Desperately Seeking Solution

One of Andy's companions looked at him. Then looked at me; I was kneeling, naked, holding a soft cock, with cum dribbling down my chin. The companion turned back to Andy and said, "Well, why don't you get your own blowjob then? She's here and looks ready. I'll buy you one if you'd like, my treat."

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. My mind reeled. Another blowjob? Hey guys, I'm right here; maybe you should ask me first. I paused and reflected further. Then again, I've done it once, so another won't make much difference. And anyway, tonight is a special occasion; it's not like it's my career. And this way, Uncle Bob doesn't tell Dad about me stripping. And, when you think about it, it doesn't really even count as sex. It's just a blowjob. Oh, what the hell.

Andy's buddy smiled at me. "So, Starla, how much was that magnificent blowjob?"

"Um, it was $500." I had no idea if that was an unusually high amount, maybe paid just for the special one for Theo. It seemed absurdly expensive to me, but I wasn't about to complain about being overpaid.

"Cool, that's done then," Andy's buddy added without blinking. 

I looked at the man who spoke with wonder. Damn, how rich are these guys? Five hundred bucks—the amount doesn't seem to faze them. They act like it's nothing more than buying a cup of coffee. So, it looks like I'm on for another blowjob.

"Ok, sounds good," I said, smiling. I stood up, facing the two men. I ran both hands back through my hair and stretched, breasts thrusting towards them. My nipples were standing erect with arousal, which apparently captivated both men.

I walked over, guided Andy down in his chair, and went straight for his belt. I opened his fly, fished out his cock, and momentarily regarded it. It was straight, cut, rigid, and filled my hand nicely. I licked around the pink tip, cleaning off the tiny appetizer of pre-cum, then slipped the shaft into my mouth. I sucked and pumped his cock to climax in less than three minutes, enjoying the audible moans accompanying his orgasm and the unique, slightly acidic taste of his ejaculate. 

No sooner had I finished milking Andy's cum from his fast-fading erection, I saw another man standing by with his cock already out and waiting. Really? I guess Mom was right; don't start something unless you can finish it. Looks like I've added a new service to my repertoire.

I ate four more loads of old men's sperm. None of them lasted more than five minutes. I loved the varying taste, viscosity, and quantities of their cum—all unique—a veritable smorgasbord of epicurean delights. They all paid $500 and were very grateful. The money I was earning was ridiculous.

After the fourth subsequent blowjob—the sixth in all—I got up and sat on the armchair. I sighed deeply and announced that my jaw and mouth were too tired, so I was done dick-sucking for the night. 

Instead of closing down the Starla Sex Shoppe, however, evidently all I did was trigger the creativity of my patrons. 

"Well, there are other wonderful things you can do that won't affect your jaw at all," a new voice said. I looked to my side and was greeted by a large erect cock. A cock that was attached to a man standing next to my chair. I glanced up from the eye-level penis to the source of the voice. A man with snowy white hair—a bit older than most there, probably mid-sixties—smiled down at me with kind eyes. 

"What are you saying? I'm not following you," I said tiredly, thinking that jacking off men by hand sounded even more tiring. And not nearly as much fun.

"You've presented a special treasure tonight for our not-insignificant enjoyment that is designed to give incalculable pleasure, with almost no exertion on your part."  

I sat, looking confused, trying to discern what he was getting at. Slow on the uptake.

"Between your legs—your beautiful, wet, inviting vagina. Crying out to be filled with man, to give pleasure, and milk the seed of humanity from our vessels."

I looked stupidly at him for one more instant as his flowery words sunk in, and I realized what he was saying. Then I laughed in amusement at his waxing sex poetically. "Sex," I said simply. Yeah, right. You wish. 

But even as I discounted the notion, I looked at his hard cock, and for just an instant, imagined pulling it into me. My belly fluttered and I felt warmth radiate throughout my body at the thought.

He beamed. "Yes. Such a simple, eloquent word for a delightful act. I'm ready, you're ready, and I'm here. I should think—since a blowjob is $500—that for graduating to simple intercourse, something along the lines of $1500 should be reasonable."

I was stunned. Holy. Mother. Shit. That's a whole month's rent. That money plus what I've already earned tonight is like four months working at the club. These guys must be made of money to afford this. But why am I even thinking like this? I can't just have sex with a stranger—that's wrong. On so many levels. Isn't it? It must be. And that's way, way more personal than sucking a dick. I couldn't do that... I think.

"I... um, I don't know," I stammered. "That's... no, I don't think so, no... I mean, I appreciate the offer, but, well, I'm sure... I mean, I haven't thought of sex, doing sex like that before." My words were as jumbled as my thoughts. My body wasn't helping any; the idea was making me wetter, and my pussy tingled.

My mind spun again, and my emotions were confused and mixed up. I was dealing with that phenomenon a lot that night. I furrowed my brow in thought. 

This has to be crossing the line... whatever that is. But, then again, how is it morally different from a blowjob, other than a step up in intimacy and a different location? How is a blowjob worse than making a guy cum by rubbing on his lap? Am I just a whore who's going to hell, like Daddy says? Am I going down the proverbial slippery slope? Why don't I just say 'no' and be done with it? 

I glanced at Mr. Kind-eyes, who waited patiently. Hopefully. My jumbled thoughts fell into clarity. I don't just say 'no' because the idea excites me and turns me on. It's not just the money; I feel sexy and powerful knowing men want me, and I can choose to have them. Shit, I'm getting really horny.

"Hey there, relax. Are you ok?" The old man with kind eyes asked with concern, putting his hand on my shoulder and pulling me out of my mental melee. "It was just an idea; you don't have to do anything you don't want to." He smiled and added, "But I hope you want to."

I looked at him, standing with his cock now down to half-mast. Oh, poor guy, look what I've done; I spoiled his hard-on by acting like a whiny baby. These guys are all so nice; they've only been kind all night in every way. Treated me politely and made me feel beautiful, special, and wanted, not like a failure and lousy person the way my father does. Part of me wanted to reach out and restore his erection; my curiosity, arousal, and excitement pressed through my myriad feelings.

"Yes, I know, and thank you for saying that," I said. "It's just a new idea, something I hadn't considered, need to consider. So I was caught off guard."

I thought about what I'd been doing, from stripping to lap dances and blowjobs—I was sitting in a chair stark naked in front of many men, with six loads of semen in my belly. And this lovely man offered me an outrageous amount of money to let him put a little more semen in me, just in a different place. Sure, sex is a significant step up from a blowjob, but I wouldn't have to work as hard as I do sucking them. And the money will help solve all my financial problems and tide me over until I can get back on my feet with a real job without my father finding out anything. 

It's not like I'm a virgin; I've had sex loads of times. What difference would one more time make? Much more upside here, and it would be only for tonight, as a favor to Uncle Bob and to help with money. Compartmentalize and move on.

I looked up at Mr. Kind-eyes, gave a coy smile, and reached out and grasped his now nearly flaccid dick. I noted that his pubic hair was beginning to gray slightly, but not white like the hair on his head—I hadn't thought about pubes graying, but it made sense. 

"Thank you for considering my feelings," I said as I started stroking his cock, which began swelling instantly. "But yes, I think you have a marvelous idea. One mutually beneficial to us both." I smiled broader as I saw his face light up like a small boy getting a birthday present, and I grinned to myself for using old-fashioned language like he was. "So, what position would you like me in?"

Mr. Kind-eyes leaned forward, placed his hands on my shoulders, and gently pressed me back, guiding me until I leaned back in the chair. My upper body was canted back at an angle, with my pelvis near the front of the chair and my legs spread apart to the sides. My pussy was wet with arousal and anticipation—an open invitation. He reached out and ran his fingers around my labia, dipped one into my vagina just to the first knuckle, and pressed his thumb against my clit. Electric ripples of pleasure permeated my pussy and belly, causing my abs to undulate.

"Mmm, you're very wet," he said. "Ready, willing, and able." 

"Oh, yes, very ready, and oh, that feels so nice." My sexual anticipation was palpable. I wanted this—here, now, with him. Fuck the money. No, strike that; yes to the money.

Mr. Kind-eyes replaced his hand with his restored erection and smeared its tip between my labia to lubricate it. Then he lined up and gently pressed it inside me: a little in, back out slightly, then deeper in, a little back, then deep inside me until our pelvises met. I felt his fullness, and my vaginal walls quivered in greeting. Next, he started pumping all the way in and nearly out, slowly building speed. I unconsciously spread my legs more, lolled my head back, and relished the stimulation, pleasure, arousal, and excitement.

Hearing his breathing get heavier and more ragged, I refocused and looked into his eyes. He was looking alternately at my face and down at our joining, watching his cock sliding in and out of my pussy, clearly relishing the sight. 

Then, I glanced around, and realized we had attracted a small audience. About eight men were standing near us, watching. Half of them were tugging on their own erect dicks as they enjoyed our show. I squirmed with delight, knowing I was arousing them, that they got turned on seeing me naked, being fucked before their eyes.

Mr. Kind-eyes suddenly sped up, pumping hard and fast inside me, pressing my legs open to slam deeper inside my vagina. "Mm, soon," he moaned, thrusting deep and forcefully. Before I could respond, he arched his back and pressed deep; I felt his eruption of cum splashing inside me repeatedly. After he came, his cock softened quickly and plopped out of me—sooner than I had experienced with guys my age. 

He smiled dreamily and said, "Thank you, you've made my day—my year. That was really wonderful."

I stretched in languorous post-coital pleasure when another man stepped up in front of me. He was bald, with white eyebrows, fit and built with well-defined muscles, and had a very erect penis in his hand. He also looked well over sixty. He reminded me of Mr. Clean on the kitchen cleanser bottle. All he was missing was a hoop earring.

Mr. Clean smiled at me. "That was unbelievably sexy; look what you've done to my cock." He lifted his dick as if showing me something that wasn't obvious. "Can you please take care of this problem for me? You look like you're possibly ready for some more."

My mind didn't reel or whirl this time, and I wasn't shocked or confused. Instead, I briefly reflected on what I was doing and how much money I would receive just for providing a receptacle for older men's sperm. 

Fuck it; what does it even matter now? If there's a hell, my reservation has already been secured—I've sold my body for sex, and what's done is done. If I'm a whore tonight, I might as well be a well-compensated whore. And I'm not sure most whores love having sex like I do, but the money is just icing on the cake because I love this whole thing.

I regarded Mr. Clean's nice-looking, hard cock, pulsing and yearning to be inside me. I licked my lip, smiled, and said, "Welcome to my treasure box." I took two fingers and parted my labia—a clear and explicit invitation.

Mr. Clean pressed his tip to my entrance, paused, and said, "Fifteen hundred, right?"

I nodded, and he slid easily deep inside my well-lubricated vagina. I felt the warm fullness of his engorged cock stretch and slide along my rippling vaginal walls; he pressed into me until our pubes greeted each other in a sexy dance. I took a deep breath of pleasure and pushed back against his intrusion as my vagina enveloped and caressed him.

"Ah, that's so nice; it's been so long," Mr. Clean murmured. His expression was of pure ecstasy. He thrust quickly right away, and his balls tightened in less than a minute; he grunted and ejaculated in me with swelling pulses. Then, he pulled out, his cock already soft—even faster than Mr. Kind-eyes. It must be an age thing; cocks seem to go soft more quickly after cumming.

I loved the feel and idea of Mr. Clean's ejaculation inside my pussy, and I felt a tinge of loss when he pulled out, leaving my aroused sex empty. His look of bliss, however, brought a smile to my face.

I looked up and saw a line of guys queued up to fuck me; a surge of arousal radiated deep in my gut. I wanted them, wanted all of them to fill me and fuck me; I wondered how many I could take before getting sore. Morality had ceased to be a factor. Instead, I would have fun, enjoy myself, and satisfy these wonderful gentlemen. Make us all happy.

Even though all the men were over twice my age and some were nearly triple my age, I preferred them to most young guys, who were often just assholes. I loved my older men's attitude, their attention to me, their appreciation, and the fun of controlling and getting them off—of giving them sexual pleasure and satisfaction. 

I was aroused, sexually charged, wet, and reveling in pure hedonistic delight. And I would make more money than I could make in six months at the club—and more than I would have earned in ten months at my old job. 

So I accepted their offers to be fucked. Each man was polite, respectful, and relatively quick; they all grunted unintelligibly as they shot their semen inside me. I had expected older men to take much longer to cum. Maybe it had been a long time, and they were very worked up. Or I'm just that sexy, I chuckled to myself. 

Following Mr. Clean, three more men entered and came inside me as I leaned back in the chair facing them, making five total in that position. The first was jovial and talkative and complimented my boobs, body, and pussy throughout. The second was a timid-looking man—serious with concentration—who seemed fixated on my nipples, with lips and hands. Finally, the third man gave meaning to the expression "fire in his eyes;" he lifted and pressed my legs up towards my shoulders, splitting my pussy wide open, then pumped into me with unconstrained fervor. I welcomed his primal thrusts and gripped his cock with my pussy; I might have climaxed, given more time. 

My well-lubed vagina trembled with pleasure, but my legs and back needed a change. So I asked the next man that approached if he didn't mind entering from the rear—not surprisingly, he didn't mind. So I turned over and knelt on the chair, leaning forward on the cushioned chair back, my ass and pussy open and welcoming. 

Facing away from the men taking me from behind, I savored the experience of what was tantamount to being taken anonymously—the anticipation, the naughtiness, and the pleasure. Four consecutive men stepped up and entered me; I silently welcomed their cocks by arching my back or wiggling my ass rather than greeting or interacting with them. Each man waited his turn, stepped up and stroked my ass cheeks, ran his dick between my pussy lips to lube up, and humped me doggy-style until he came, pulled out, and stepped away for the next guy. 

I fantasized and played mental guessing games. Like a blind taste test with my pussy. I hungrily accepted each cock into my sopping pussy, and wondered how long the sex would last and what the man looked like. I tried to tell if the cocks were circumcised (I couldn't) and predict how close to the edge I would get or if I might even cum myself. My pussy felt the void in between cocks, and yearned to be filled again until the next entry. My pussy undulated and gripped each hard dick like a predator seizing prey. A predator that sucked the life essence from its target.

The fifth man rubbed my clit and played his thumb in and around my vagina's opening a little before entering me—I was close to cumming before he pressed his rigid cock inside. It was nice, more than someone just wanting a cum dump. I enjoyed his touch, and images of being with a lover like that made my pussy tremble with arousal. His cock filled me, and my body writhed with exquisite pleasure. Mmm, I can't believe I'm getting paid for this. I felt his semen erupt deep in my vagina as he came, groaning and holding his dick fully inside me until it softened and slipped out. I felt a trickle of wetness trace down my thigh.

"Thanks, honey, you're amazing," said the familiar voice. 

My eyes widened with recognition. Shit! My Uncle Bob. Damn him! Now my mind reeled once again, at least a bit. My Uncle Bob just fucked me. What the actual fuck? Why would he do that? 

I spun around and faced my Uncle; our eyes met. He cut off my outburst as he shook his head subtly but sharply, warning me not to say anything, not give away anything about us being related. He leaned in and whispered, "Not now; we'll talk later. You just have fun." He kissed the top of my head and moved away.

I collapsed back down on the chair. I watched Uncle Bob's retreating back, perplexed. I inhaled deeply, exhaled slowly, and tried to make sense of things.

Ok, so... I just got fucked by my goddamn Uncle. But what's done is done—just breathe, relax. It doesn't matter; he was just another old guy doing precisely what they all did. Nothing I can do about it now—compartmentalize. Deal with it later. 

Which was easier thought than done. My mind struggled with the nagging question: why didn't he tell me who he was or ask me and give me a chance to decide if I wanted to?

But I knew deep down that I would have let him if he'd asked, and then I would probably have felt some guilt. So maybe he didn't say anything before fucking with me to protect me from those concerns, to give me "plausible deniability." But why did he fuck me at all? I'm his niece, for god's sake... my dad is his older brother.

But I was oddly accepting of the situation. I even liked it on some level—it was naughty, taboo, sexy, and risky. And so very gratifying. 

Compartmentalize. Move on. I shook my head to clear my muddled thoughts.

I looked over and saw that only one more man was waiting. He had waited so long and patiently. And he was attractive: handsome, strong jaw, a tight physique, and greying at his temples. Someone I would have responded to positively under other circumstances, despite our age difference. I should make the most of this; he will certainly take my mind off my damn Uncle. This will be a nice wrap-up and end things on a high note. 

I gave the final guy my most dazzling smile. "Thanks for waiting; I appreciate it. You are last, so you can choose what position you want—front, back, sitting? What would you like?"