Brandy's Ranch Ch. 02

The good news was that by the end of the session Keira's tears were gone. With growing interest, she watched Dean patiently working. Had he not been so focused on his subject he might have noted the increasing look of determination on her face. He might have even noticed that she went into the bathroom to change her panties.

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WEDNESDAY EVENING: Plan into action

Fortunately, Joe's truck was parked in a secluded spot. It took several tries that afternoon before he could get the frazzled and frightened diplomat through steps in driving that were second nature to others. That done, Joe went with Jessica to be made up as Negrin. When they returned to the standby pleasure pod, Dean was genuinely impressed with the resemblance.

"Time to swap clothes, gentlemen," Dean directed.

"Careful with those pants!" the diplomat snorted. He was standing in his boxers while Joe was trying on the expensive, lux-brand-name slacks.

"He wasn't so touchy when I pulled them off him in San Francisco," Keira was heard to mutter. And then she swung her legs off the bed and approached Dean.

"You won't have to use Chrysta to double for me." She paused for her words to sink in. "I'll go out there with Mr. Martinez."

"You don't have to do it."

"I want to. I want to." Without waiting for a reply, Keira snatched some clothes from her bag and headed for the bathroom, turning for a moment to issue what sounded like a directive.

"Just don't let Don Juan leave before I'm out there with Mr. Martinez. Let him see what's going to happen!"

Joe raised an eyebrow, but Dean motioned for him to stay quiet. Phrases about "a woman scorned" were coming to his fertile mind and now he was aware that Keira had given up on being the sexy plaything of the veteran diplomatic cocksman. He wondered how assertive she was going to be.

Chrysta entered the room, expecting to swap clothes with the intern. Instead, she found herself waiting with the others - waiting for Keira.

It did not take long for the angry intern to squeeze into the tight Tanga swimwear and the white, lacy cover-up jacket that she had brought for the eyes of Señor Negrin. She emerged from the bathroom, catching all eyes in the process. The diplomat scowled. Joe Martinez smiled. Chrysta looked her up and down enviously. Dean looked her over with increasing interest.

"C'mon, Chrysta, let's both give 'em a show!" Keira took Chrysta - who brightened up - on one arm and Joe on the other. Señor Negrin scowled again.

"Exhibitionist! I'm disgusted." He affected an air of disdain. But he watched.

His eyes grew bigger. Well, actually it was not just his eyes that grew bigger as Joe Martinez' work-worn hands found the straps on Keira's swimwear easy to slip off. Dean began to wonder if he would have trouble getting the transfixed diplomat moving. The decoy part of his plan was working, though, as he noticed the late day sunlight reflecting off of camera lenses.

Perhaps it was Chrysta's delicate tracing of Keira's curves, or maybe it was when Keira and Joe tore off Chrysta's clothing. Or it was when old Joe showed experienced deftness in caressing Keira's breasts. Or probably, it was when the two young women bracketed Joe and nuzzled their nude curves against him from each side as they splashed together in the warm water. Whatever point they had reached, it was the last straw for Señor Negrin.

"Disgusting! No sense of shame!" he blatted out as he turned toward the truck. He stalled the engine on the first try, and angrily let the clutch snap in on the second. Gravel pelted the nearest pleasure pod and then the diplomat vanished in a cloud of oily exhaust. To Dean's relief, the camera lens reflections continued to focus on the impromptu sex show, indicating that the diplomat likely was not being followed.

The frolicking trio forsook their warm bath and happily dried each others' glistening bodies with the fluffy towels that Brandy kept stocked near the water's edge. Then they helped each other dress (Joe had to go back in the water to fish out a couple of items that had come off last). Dean had to admit to himself that he was a bit jealous of Joe. Chrysta was about Keira's age and now was offering to teach her some tricks, with Joe as the beneficiary. And, Dean thought, Joe's wisdom might be part of the attraction of intellectual Chrysta for the older man.

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WEDNESDAY NIGHT: All the nudes that fit the prints

Jessica's pod was decorated with her watercolors: scenes of the Sierras and a couple of impressionistic nudes that Dean recognized as self-portraits of Brandy's most artistic sex worker. And, the biggest surprise, an almost nude sketch of our friend Chloe!

"She asked me to pose for her photo series, so I asked her to pose for me," she explained. "I'll use that sketch to paint a watercolor. But, let me get your attention," she giggled. Dean realized that he had been staring wistfully at the sketch.

Jessica was well-dressed in a shirt blouse and skirt combination that set off her dark skin, with lots of buttons. She fingered each as she undid herself before his penetrating eyes. Dean had heard that Jessica had been married for a while and he was reminded of his instructor at the School for Sexual Expression. She had explained that one of the pleasures of taking married women was that they dressed so well for their sexual rendezvous. Of course, said his instructor, it would feel great to frolic on a first date with a woman who insisted that she never had "done it" so quickly before. A graduate of this program would come to consider that normal. But a sensitive graduate of this program, male or lesbian, would appreciate the anticipation and thought that the married woman put into extra-curricular love-making as an event. That had certainly become Dean's experience.

Anticipation is what Dean felt as Jessica's skirt fell to the floor. As their eyes locked in the pre-coital gaze, neither of them even noticed that the television was still on. Jessica had been watching 'The Price is Right'. She was somewhere between Chrysta and Jennifer in age, but like all of Brandy's stable, she kept in timeless shape. As his old instructor had suggested, her lingerie was exquisite. Some of the bordello's workers favored traditionally garish colors. With the 1950's back in style, blazing red panties stretching over blond curls to some even seemed trendy. Jessica's flowered print bra and panties complemented her African-American skin tones in a much more sophisticated way.

Enjoying his reaction, Jessica leaned forward to allow Dean's fingers to deftly unclip her bra. His experienced hands slid around her sides and onto her swelling breasts to tease them, tantalizing her, promising her more than the usual grabby married customer.

Instead of relying on hypnosis, Dean had made fulfilling foreplay his choice, trying the technique of David Shade. Partly, that was because feeling herself gliding into hot, wet ecstasy appealed to her artistic spirit. Partly because age was catching up with Dean. It felt delicious - the gentle tugging as she fingered his swelling manhood - the moist kisses - the thrills that coursed through her body as he adroitly fingered her. He loved the challenging strong curls that framed her pink invitation to pleasure. And it was easy to imagine her in missionary style, with those curls clutching at his own. But Dean had a different plan for Jessica. They lay entwined until her legs had to spread open for the deep vaginal orgasms she now demanded. Dean ordered her to her knees.

Her dark curves wiggled glowing black ivory invitingly in front of him. She barely was conscious by the time he slipped into her, but prepared with deep orgasms, Dean's powerful reach into Jessica's innermost pleasure centers jolted her awake. Or perhaps it was the playful slap on her rump. She felt him leaning over her, capturing her breasts with his experienced hands. She still remembers longing for him not to have been wearing a condom, wanting this special man's semen to fill her needs, but all she recalls from after that is sharing the explosion with him.

According to stereotypes, Dean should then have fallen asleep, perhaps snoring. But, as was usually the case when he had tightly focused his energy on juicy sex, Jessica dropped into a deep slumber first. It was then that he noticed that the tv was still on. A cable news anchor was reaching the bottom end of her half-hour, time for the junkiest stories. (Despite, Dean supposed, having run teasers on them throughout the evening.)

DIPLOMATIC RELATIONS!~~~! "Was Don Juan Negrin, the Ecuazeulan Consul General from San Francisco on a sex junket to Reno?" Well, the story finally - to Dean's amusement - stated that he had appeared from his Reno hotel room all alone to speak at a development conference. And his spokeswoman "Carlita" issued a statement from the consulate assuring that he had the Ecuazeulan people's warm support in spite of the bare lies spreading with nakedly false photos. The story they had milked for hours had gone limp without reaching a climax.

HOT TIME IN NEVADA SMALL TOWN!~~~! "What's up in Xxxxxxx County? Exclusive pictures show sex orgy on the lake!" They saved the best for last, thought Dean. Extremely long telephoto lenses produced shimmering, hard to make out, images of today's nude frolics. Whenever the image tightened up, it was fuzzed by pixilization. All the while, the anchor made double entendre remarks, while continuing her shocked tone. Then a commercial followed, appropriately for an erection-enhancer. Dean wondered how much new demand the outraged publicity would bring to Brandy's Ranch. Or were the viewers just expected to masturbate with these thoughts in their darkened living rooms?

The retired government agent smiled and then joined Jessica in deep slumber, their bodies touching intimately. He could fill out the on-line survey in the morning.

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THURSDAY EVENING: Class Act

It was Chrysta's turn. Dean wondered if she might feel short-changed after all the attention he had already given to the other women, but it seemed that the exciting events of the last couple of days had washed away any other thoughts. She was pleased that Dean was impressed with her library, which covered a broad range of topics. The Kama Sutra was represented, as well as Japanese pillow books and the hottest literary novels. There were some collector edition copies of Playboy with the great literature that so many of her customers had forgotten to read in them. Matt Bai's truthful book about the rise of sex scandals was on the bedside table. Beneath it was an old high school sex ed textbook. Dean pulled it out.

"Ohhh," she laughed. "That's just a prop! Just give me a minute," she whispered in a conspiratorial tone. She grabbed some clothing out of the closet and slipped into the bathroom. Dean was puzzled; picked out more titles and kept browsing.

Chrysta stepped back into the room. She was dressed in a porn director's idea of a sex ed teacher: black-rimmed glasses, a prep school monogram on the unbuttoned blazer, her bare curves beneath its maroon cloth leading to those 1950's red panties. They even had cute ruffles discretely placed. She was fingering a ruler, sliding it slowly upward.

"Are you a good boy? Or a naughty boy? Let me see if they warn girls about you in here." She flipped open the sex ed book.

Dean laughed. She carried it off so well, he forgot about some minor aches and pains and began to feel like his old self.

"It doesn't hurt, does it? Can we do it before curfew? All the other girls are doing it!" They teased each other with school days phrases. Chrysta confessed that she wanted Brandy to get an old Cadillac with a big back seat for customers who wanted to relive their youth. Dean was amused, although he had to admit having never tried that, always being too much of a romantic and wanting a beautiful setting without time limits, at the least a place where both could stretch out.

"It's time for your final exam, Dean!" Chrysta adopted her classroom tone again. Dean concluded that hypnotically smoothing the way was unnecessary, as she eagerly snapped her passion red panties down over her firm rump.

"I'm up for it!" was all he could get out before she pressed into him on tiptoes so her lusting sex lips could close around the hardness in his slacks. Her heat sent a clear signal; his manhood was not in doubt as she deftly stretched his briefs to disentangle it. Giggling, she reached for the ruler and played at measuring his rising statement of interest.

"You're not hypnotizing me, are you? This ruler isn't long enough!" That wasn't true exactly, so they both giggled this time and she dropped the ruler. Turning to the bedside table, she picked out a condom.

"Now will you demonstrate that you've been paying attention in class?" With practiced fingers, the retired agent ripped the foil open and then stopped for a moment. He squeezed a glistening drop of precum on a finger and caressed each of Chrysta's firmly outhrust nipples, enjoying the s-h-h-hiver that coursed through her petite body. Then he slipped into the condom. Chrysta stood before him nude, except for the comical black glasses. Calmly, she removed them and took Dean's hand and placed it over her vagina.

Dean's steady hand cradled her warming sex and then he began to move his fingers. Chrysta tossed the phony glasses aside and looked up starry-eyed. He could feel and see her body chemistry at work now, flooding her logical brain with tantalizing yearnings, perhaps feeding her thoughts from the pillow books. She danced away from him and twirled onto the bed.

"Dean!" she gasped, unused to foreplay from the customers. "I want your dick in me now." She wiggled her pelvis eagerly. But he lay down beside her, pinning her arms down. Leaning over, he sucked her small, but well-shaped breast closest and his hand extended his control of her vagina. His long index finger stroked her deepest spots until she forgot that his hard erection was still tightly held in her hand. Orgasms began to cascade as Dean ordered her to intense pleasure, all the while holding her arms down.

"Oh, God, my pussy..." she started to blurt out something between breaths, and then she squirted her sex juice up and beyond anything she had experienced before. A cold shiver passed through her and her entire body seemed ready to resonate like a tuning fork.

And it did.

"NOW, you're ready to fuck." Dean laughed as she struggled to speak. Her eyes were glazed over, but she could feel him releasing her, feel his hands gliding gently between her thighs, feel her own instincts at his touch without thought spreading her legs wide.

"You mean that was just foreplay?" The man who had just given her the most primeval pleasure said nothing as he rolled a luxury-brand condom over his hard staff. She shivered again, perhaps chilled, perhaps anticipating.

He slid between her legs, scissors-style, and then went easily into her. Her wet curls danced with his, tangoed, tangled, but could not snare his powerful thrusting. Deep, deeper and then she had no choice but to come again and again.

Chrysta did not remember anything after that. In the morning, she awoke with the bright Nevada sun glaring in. Dean, nude, his penis relaxed in the morning chill, was typing an entry on the computer. A little annoyed at its slow response, he read the on-line form aloud. Finally it was ready.

"Submit!" he barked at the screen and punched the return key. Chrysta giggled.

"I already did!" And she giggled again until Dean, his excitement beginning to lift, slid back in bed beside her.

"This one won't go on your permanent record," he teased.

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FRIDAY NOON: Dean 'helps' in the kitchen

Brandy was off doing some management function, so it was just Dean, Joe and Rick for lunch. It was interesting to learn from Rick about Brandy's planning for a new added-value activity. She could use their help in trying it out, he explained. It would be sort of a 'toga party' with a special aphrodisiac dinner. Rosemary Salazar had been studying old - really old - recipes and experimenting with updating them.

Rick recruited the two men to help him move furniture around to make room for some bean bag chairs and low tables. Rather than being bright, 1970's colors, these were what might have been Roman pastels. They chatted a bit as they worked and Dean learned that Joe had noticed Rosemary's apparent interest. It was not hard work with the three of them cooperating, so it was easy to banter, but Dean joked that Chloe and I, invited, but delayed in getting there, were ducking work.

"I'll call Professor Williams, and see if they're ready to come," he offered. He headed through the kitchen to find Brandy to get my phone number. And literally bumped into Rosemary.

It was not an unpleasant experience, cushioned as it were by her well-endowed figure. As they both apologized to each other, an idea popped into Dean's always active mind.

"May I talk with you for a minute?"

"Well, for a minute," she laughed. And then she tried to tease, but trailed off anxiously: "You're not going to try to hypnotize me, like I heard you do with the other women..."

"I'm not going to try," Dean agreed, reaching out his hand for a handshake. A handshake induction that left her standing in a trance in front of him.

Calmly he conditioned her with pleasant thoughts, dredging up his rusty Spanish to remind her of good times in her past. And, as he expected, learning of her serious interest in Joe Martinez. And, not surprising, of her having buried those thoughts on the assumption that she could not compete with Brandy's professionals.

"As you prepare dinner this afternoon, it will be easy for you to think of Joe. Have you thought of how much Brandy's girls like him?"

"Yes. They say he is a bull in bed, but a kind bull." She shivered.

"You can imagine being in bed with him."

"Yes."

Dean learned that Rosemary had experienced loss twice in her love life - the death in Vietnam of her school days love and then the lung cancer death of her husband. She had shielded herself and what Dean determined was her powerful emotional and sexual needs by becoming mistress of her kitchen, a sort of dom in white starched cotton.

"You can imagine many orgasms with Joe," Dean continued.

"Yes."

"You can imagine waking up with him and fixing him breakfast." Dean could not resist smiling.

"Yes, si!"

"When he kisses you, all of these feelings will come naturally."

"Yes."

"So powerfully that you will not worry about who else is in the room."

And then he eased her out of the trance with pleasant images of her prospects with Joe.

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FRIDAY AFTERNOON: Menu foreplay

Actually, it was an unexpected invitation and I had to finish up one of my fraternity+sorority seminars first. It was as always satisfying to see students at the conclusion of one of my sessions who were enjoying adult pleasures after a single glass of wine, taking their time to savor each other's bodies, and with no thought of drunken abuse. As word circulated, women entered this particular frat house with eager anticipation. I left them paired off and hurried in a rental car to Brandy's Ranch. Chloe was already there.

"I've been in the kitchen with Rosemary. She let me photograph her inner sanctum while she worked. She even recruited a couple of Brandy's girls to help."

"What's for dinner?" I had just nibbled some snacks at the frat house, so was honestly wondering.