Ghostly Persuasion

Now virile I may be, and my spirit is forever willing, but there is a limit. My flesh just isn't up to the task of training all three at the same time. However my nubile novices may see me, I'm hardly Superman. And even his battery loses its charge and needs refreshing (it's unfair that a woman's rarely needs replenishing). So, as you can see, I've got a problem. No, don't tell me, I'm sure you'd do a good job, but you're there and I'm here and I've got to find the answer. I think it is time I again consulted my friend Hap again. Excuse me while I give him a call.

Well once more Hap has come up trumps. His suggestion is that I take the girls to his place - the 'Ride 'Em Hard Ranch' that, in his father's time only produced beef but which he's taken into the service sector by providing facilities for tired (and horny) executives to recharge their batteries. They get to ride his horses by day, and his women by night.

He promises to organize an erudite erection or two to assist me further the girls' erotic education. And, when they are sufficiently adept, recommend a number of suitable clients who would be delighted to have a gallop with (or on) them. Which would also help defray any costs since those lucky beneficiaries will be expected to show their appreciation with a substantial present or two.

He says he'll do it out of friendship. I'm not sure, this could be an expensive free lunch. But even if I do have to find a pound of flesh I have more to gain than to lose so, as I'm sure you will agree, this must be my next step - if I can sell it to the family Frow. Gathering my strength, I stagger downstairs to make my pitch to The Widow.

'Mother Frow, Matilda,' I say. 'I've dispatched your delinquent ghost, I've initiated the girls. Now you have another problem. They've become nookie nuts, determined to make up for lost time and extend their experience.'

'I thought that might happen,' she says, 'it runs in the family, my mother could never get enough cock.'

'And what about you?'

'Even before old Frow died the locals used to help out, since he never could fully cope - he retired to his grave trying to satisfy me. Since then the neighbours have been most supportive of my needs.'

'You'll see the problem then. If he couldn't keep one Frow female satisfied how can I hope to content, let alone educate, all three.'

'Yes, it is a pity, Robbie. I was hoping you would assist them develop their shagging expertise. Maybe I'm over indulgent but I can't stand by and see them starved of one of life's necessities. Who do you suggest we get to assist you? The local lads are pathetic wimps - not worthy of my gals.'

'Well how about a trip away.'

'How would that help?'

'I've got a friend who would welcome us,' I say, and then proceed to make a pitch any sales manager would be proud of.

'Well maybe, I'll have to discuss it with the girls,' she says. 'They're out right now so I'll have to let you know tonight.'

It is late afternoon when I'm roused by the door once more nearly parting company with its hinges and my protégés bound in.

'Come on lazybones, time for action.'

All three being naked there's no doubt as to the type of activity they have in mind. Even if I so wanted six hands are not to be denied, and in no time I'm as naked as they are, my partially restored libido raising my tool to half mast.

'To the shower. Hope lead Uncle Robbie.'

Arses undulating seductively they head out of my room and strut off down the corridor. Hope, I assume it's Hope, grabbing my pleasure plunger and pulling me after her.

With the house predating indoor plumbing the bathroom has been converted from an extra bedroom. Large, it is dominated by an iron, claw-foot, tub big enough for all four of us, but the girls have their eyes set on the new power-shower. They pull me into their midst, immediately below the steamy spray of hot water and suddenly six soft hands are stroking and soaping me. Wet boobs rub my chest and harden my nipples while lower down soapy fingers compete to soothe my rapturing rod. As their hands wash me the girls are also enjoying what is clearly a well practised pleasure, crushing pussies against thighs while teasing and tormenting tits. Finally my contenting cock proves it hasn't suffered total exhaustion by rising to attention and starting to throb.

'Okay, he's ready. I'm first.'

'It's not fair, Faith. You're always first.' That must be Charity.

'Stop! Whoa! I can only take one of you,' I tell them. 'Draw lots or something.'

'Don't be a spoil sport, we all need stuffing.'

'Sorry, Hope. No can do. Fill the tub and I'll tell you an instructive tale as we soak.'

Two soft mounds pillow me as I lean back in the old iron bath - Charity I think. Hope is kneeling beside me where my fingers can explore her boobs. Faith, nestles between my legs stroking my expectant erection. 'What's this all about then?'

'Watch, and I will show you.' Grasping her hips I pull Faith up onto me, then lower her so that she is impaled on my indefatigable member. 'Ride me,' I say.

Obediently she bounces jauntily up and down, her boobs joggling joyfully against my palms. I must admit that even for a man of my experience the accompanying oohs and aahs from Hope and squawks from Charity make this a new variation. Not that it lasts long, in less time than it takes to put you in the picture Faith is trumpeting my proficiency with, 'I'm cumming, I'm cumming, I can't wait, ohhh . . . oooh!'

I give her a moment or three to come down from her blissful firmament then say, 'Hope change places with Faith.' From which you will gather that my industrious skewer is proving slow to yield it's customary harvest. I'm mortified, this is the first time I've had to publicly admit failing to fill a pussy. Hope asks if she can help but nature is against me. I suppose I must accept that ageing gracefully will hamper my devotion to the cause. At least it provides the girls with an apt example of a stud's need for recovery time.

'But Uncle Robbie,' Charity protests, 'what are we to do? We need more cock than that.'

'Hasn't your mother told you about the trip I'm planning for all of us?'

'She did say something, but it was all rather vague.'

'Oh! Well it's like this,' I proceed to paint a glowing picture of Hap's establishment and the bountiful amounts of shagging they will get. I am obviously as proficient at telling tales as formerly filling female fissures since they immediately rush excitedly off to pack, leaving not a single roving hand to massage me dry.

Ah! well, you can't always get the timing right. Anyway excuse me while I get organized, I'll not forget to let you know what transpires.

Howdy all. I'm Robbie's friend Hap, or to be more formal 'Happy Shafter of the Ride 'Em Hard Ranch'. Not that we use hot iron on our women anymore but, as the name says, we make a virtue of riding them often and energetically.

Do I really need to tell you about the place? I think not, the TV documentary they screened last fall said it all; it was in the same series as the one on Hugh Hefner. You didn't see it? Well it showed what an up front sort of guy I am, coming from good old fashioned stock that don't hold much with this new fangled women's lib.

Now I gather Robbie promised to keep you abreast of his progress with the Frow girls. Well I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad tidings but he's not going to make it since he's been felled by a bad case of stress brought on by overwork. Not that I'm surprised - he's always been far too conscientious - even for a dedicated pussy hound who lives for his craft.

You know he really puts some effort into satisfying the freshers he trains which, as you can imagine, means there are now a myriad of working girls around the land who go all misty eyed when you mention him. After all it's not every procurer who can leave his protégés with happy memories of the way they were broken-in and prepared for their careers in public service. Chance to meet him again and I swear every last one of them would once more be wet and panting to open her thighs for him.

Anyway, after receiving my invitation he quickly got Matilda Frow and the girls organized and down to the airport and on to the aircraft. As he told me later, it was quite a flight - claimed he hadn't been so pressurized since he was attached to the White House liaising over the provision of pussy for - no, that's a state secret, lips are sealed, you'll just have to use your imagination.

However, the girls thought it was great - all those guys trying to hit on them. Not that one can blame the dudes. The ample assets on Robbie's jewels were inevitably a magnet for a multitude of long lusting looks (and not just from the men). Fortunately most everyone seemed to think Robbie was their doting daddy. Another first he reckons since, though he's spread his seed around a bit, he maintains that he can't lay claim to any young Robbies or Robertas - still I guess there has to be one or two lurking somewhere in the concrete jungle. Anywise, he put on a stern parent act, which discouraged the wolves. (Reckons he's also found a talent for acting. Says what a time of self discovery his pearls brought him.)

However, once airborne he just had to suffer since he couldn't squelch the fly boys, who spent more time chatting up the girls and offering to enroll them into the mile high club than in driving the machine. The bumps and yaws that had most fastening their seat belts showed how hard the drivers tried to get their legs over, but fortunately - he concluded - the confining space of the cockpit limited them to some heavy groping.

Anyway deliverance eventually arrives and so did they. I have to admit when I saw his treasures I felt my eyes widened and my jaw drop. 'You've hit the jackpot this time Robbie,' I told him. And indeed he had. He's recruited some great frails in his time but none to match the Frow trio.

And The Widow! Well Robbie likes them young but I like them with some mileage on the clock and at the sight of her my trousers tented. One of the girls - I reckoned later that it was Hope - noticed the bulge and said, ''Oo, look - he likes us. Shall we help him?'

So I whipped my Stetson off and lowered it to hide my hard-on while Matilda Frow admonished, 'Whoa, girls! Age has its privileges, I'm claiming this one.'

This Happy was only too happy to agree with her.

Now I keep a set of stretch wheels for the occasional use of VIPs (Vigorously Inserting Pricks), which Robbie often borrows to dazzle new recruits with notions of grandeur, and to suggest the opulence that could be their's in return for following his sage counsel. The girls reaction when they set eyes on it was most gratifying and they were all aboard with the speed of a newly landed sailors entering ladies of leisure. Umming and ahhring they checked every hidey hole for goodies, while Robbie and I helped the driver stow the bags - only a few since there was little point in their bringing a load of fripperies when they would mostly be spending their days, not to mention their nights, cavorting in a state of nature.

As we started down the road to the ranch Robbie enquired who I'd lined up to help break-in the girls. 'Happen my two youngest are home on shore leave in a coupla days. We'll start with them.' I told him. 'That's together with you and me, Robbie. Once the boys go back to their ship I've another jockey or two in mind - well hung, well behaved, with deep pockets.' I gave the girls a smile, 'You can rest content, darlings. Around these parts you'll never have to look far for a competent rider to give you some solid exercise.'

'Oh, goody,' says Faith (at least I reckon it was Faith).

There was silence for a mile or more then Matilda Frow pipes up, 'You just got the two boys Mr. Shafter?'

'Call me Happy.' I say. 'Got me three lads is all. Randy Shafter's my eldest, he helps with running the round heels. Though he's not like me - he don't believe in mixing business with pleasure - 'cos he got himself the dearest little woman you ever did meet. She knows to keep him so busy between the sheets he don't think of straying. Why, when he's not working at the business then he's working at her.

'In any case, no way there's enough proper work for all three on the ranch so the youngest two, why they thought to see a bit of the world before deciding what to do and joined the navy. When it comes to gals they're real connoisseurs, or should it be 'cunni sailors'?'

'And what are they called?'

'Hardy Shafter. He be my youngest - named him from the ranch. The middle one, his dam insisted he be called Merrivale. It being the name of the town where she says we made him. Most calls him Merry Shafter.'

'And their mother, what's her name?'

'Ain't no one mother. Each got their own. Three boys, five kids with the girls, five different dams. Man's a success when he spreads his seed around.'

'And I see you prefer riding bareback.' Matilda Frow observed.

'Sure, that's the fashion in these parts,' I told her. 'Can't get the full feel with it wrapped up like a wounded warrior - reckon if a filly don't want what I'm giving, why she can always take the pill.'

'I'll make sure the girls bear that in mind,' she said.

I don't think Robbie liked the way the talk was going for he interrupted, 'Say, Happy you got enough cabins for us to have one each?'

'Not using the cabins, Robbie. Remember that idea I had of a theme park? Well it's nearly finished and I reckon you can do me a good deed by testing the facilities.'

'I recall you saying something. You were going to move an old frontier township.'

'Yeah, found this derelict place down Texas way. Just bought up a few main buildings and had them re-erected on the far side of the ranch for clients who want a different vacation. Got me the hotel, the whore house of course, the stables and the jail. I'll maybe add the church later. Going to have the stable lads in wranglers livery and the girls dress up as old time whores. Me? I've always fancied wearing a sheriff's badge.'

'Sounds a bit Spartan,' he said.

'Nah, I fit-up the rooms with all mod cons.' I winked at Mother Frow. 'Was going to put your girls in the whore house, but reckon as you might want to be together, so I'll let you-all test the hotel.'

The girls are listening intently. 'When we going to meet your sons Mr. Shafter?' Charity asks.

'I dun told your ma, call me "Happy". Anywise I thought to organize a pool party to welcome the boys back. Day after tomorrow.'

'Who else you inviting?' Robbie asked.

'Hadn't thought, but probably keep it to the boys and us here. Makes for even numbers - four cocks and four cunts - so no-one has to go without.

Suddenly we are on the old gravel track that really needs a SUV - one day I'll have it graded. The limo struggles a little but fortunately it's only a few hundred yards and then we are in my own township.

I may have added indoor plumbing but it retains the deserted looks and feel of a left over from gold rush days; unloved and uncared-for - the quintessential set of many a Hollywood western with gun fights between prospectors over gold claims or card games. Doubtless many an old timer breathed his last in the hotel or the whore house, when the ho's used their womanly artifices to bilk his gold from him just as fast as he could pan it. Take it from one who knows, the working girl was just the same then as now.

I soon have them settled in their rooms and showering off the journey's detritus. Leaving Robbie to organize the girls I garaged our transport, ran a quick check on business, then decided to get acquainted with the Widow as soon as possible.

When she bade me enter her room she had already stripped down to her underwear - of the type I favour I was pleased to see - and was sitting on the edge of the bed.

'At last,' she said. 'That shower looks a bit temperamental. Do you think you could help me with it.'

Suffice to say I also felt the need for a shower, but I guess you don't need any instruction on how to wash a woman so I will get on. I'll just say it was a great start to a relationship and left us rather exhausted.

We were lying on the bed gently building up for a rematch when there was a commotion; the door burst open and the girls rushed in, undressed for action but obviously distraught.

Matilda briskly quietened them down enough to make a bit of sense and we learned that poor Robbie had taken a turn. Together the girls had gone to his room for a quickie (or three) and found him totally unable to service them.

I had tried to advise Robbie to slow down, since none of us is getting any younger, but he was proud of his reputation - in my opinion well earned - as the number one deflowerer in the land. Well his efforts had finally taken their toll and he had succumbed to what he had long feared - that most unspeakable event to befall any man - he couldn't get it up. Try as he might he was bereft of the energy to enjoy even one of his treasures - the arms of Morpheus beckoned louder than the thighs of any of his bonny bimbos.

Totally ashamed, he immediately converted to euthanasia and begged us to put him out of his misery. Fortunately the condition didn't last long and after a good night's sleep he recovered enough to give Faith a tutorial. After this he attempted to claim he was back to normal, but it soon became apparent that for some time to come he would only be able to manage an occasional gallop with one or other of the girls.

All this has left him in the depths of despair and he has forcefully made his wishes known - has written what they call a living will. If ever again he lose the inclination, or the ability, to screw, he is to be immediately put out of his misery. As he says you wouldn't do any less for a rabid dog - well he certainly wouldn't.

The girls? Well they wandered woebegone until Robbie generously persuaded them to continue their education with me and my boys.

Anyway I am pleased to report that although they weren't that happy balling Randy, Merry and I - they kept comparing us to their Uncle Robbie, and finding us wanting - we rose to the occasion (frequently and with great pleasure), finishing the project Robbie had so considerately started, and helped them graduate as more than competent courtesans.

So that's where we are now. Robbie is on the mend and is planning to fly up country to look for suitable premises for the superior establishment he first envisaged. He'll probably get round to giving you the details when it is a going concern. I'll say farewell. Just remember the two cardinal rules of the man-about-town; "keep it up" and "use it or lose it".

Hi there, Matilda Frow checking in. Being a bit preoccupied right now Robbie has asked me to let you know how the project is progressing.

Well I can proudly report that having finished their training my girls are now worthy practitioners of our oldest and most venerable profession.

Of course it took a while to get them set up in our capital city but now we are established Robbie has entrusted me with the day to day running of the undertaking, as well as arranging for me to turn the odd trick or two for those who prefer the guiding hand of experience. Which is why I'm installed in this sumptuous new office while Robbie is in the penthouse either reclining in a comfortable armchair or using his luxury divan to interview new recruits.

One glance at the appointments book and you will see that Robbie's original aim was inspired and how entitled he is to take satisfaction in a job well done. Each of the girls is booked solid for the foreseeable future. Moreover I am having to restrain them from taking on too many engagements; they may love servicing all those politicians but are risking an early burn out. In any case I've learnt that restricting their services keeps the price high and so diverts in our direction a fair part of the major parties' campaign funds.