I Had It All

As he kissed my neck, one of his hands crept up to caress my breast. His fingers strummed my nipples, making them jump to attention so quickly it almost hurt. I couldn't suppress a moan. Brandon had rarely touched my breast, and it felt wonderful. As my dance partner straightened up, he looked into my eyes with lust and crushed his lips to mine. I returned his kiss with passion, surprised and excited when his tongue pushed past my lips. I'd been French kissed in high school, but Brandon never would, and I'd never been kissed by anyone like this. It sent shockwaves through my body and my vagina felt like it was gushing. I moaned and moaned again. Suddenly, I felt myself lifted and we passed through a door into... a bedroom?

I didn't care. He placed me on the bed and began removing my clothes. I sprawled there for a moment, then began trying drunkenly to unbutton his shirt. He batted away my hands and seemed to instantly shed his clothes. As he climbed on the bed and took my right nipple into his mouth, I realized I was naked. As he licked and nibbled on my nipple, I felt his fingers run over my lower lips, parting them and slipping them in the moisture they found there. I had a mini-orgasm and reach out for his cock, his iron-hard cock. I felt why Brandon never referred to his dick as a cock. There was no comparison. This was hard and big. Just minutes later I was screaming through my first full orgasm as his massive organ pierced me. I don't know when I stopped screaming, but lazily, hazily, happily returned the kisses that came to me later. I was only just aware that this was not my original partner when another amazing penis began to work its magic on me. Harlequin Romances, nothing. This was so much greater. I think I might have yelled that thought out loud.

Later, I found myself on my hands and knees, with my head pushed into the pillow. I don't think I've ever been so full. No, I know I've never been so full. I began to wonder if Brandon really had a penis, because sex with him had never been like this. I think I had screamed myself out, but boy, did I ever moan.

I awoke with a hangover, but still had an afterglow radiating from my crotch. Wendy was sitting next to me on the bed, offering me water and aspirin. I squinted my eyes against the early morning light as I looked at her. "What happened?" I asked.

"Well," she said, pointing to an ashtray that held three red cigar bands, "You've earned six hundred dollars last night."

"What? What do you mean?" I looked at the ashtray, not understanding.

"This is what makes the cigar lounge work. Each member gets a number of special cigars, with special bands. The red bands entitle them to one round of straight sex. Any girl who accommodates them can exchange the bands for $250." Wendy said.

I was hung over, but I could do math. "You said six hundred. Three bands at $250 isn't $600."

Wendy leaned over and briefly kissed my lips. "You owe me a finder's fee and something for my mother's babysitting."

As I pondered that, and agreed it made sense. Then it occurred to me what we were talking about. "I'm not a whore!" I protested.

"Well, you don't have to turn in the bands." She smiled wickedly. "Then you'll just be a slut. But you earned more than a month's rent on the trailer last night. Think how quickly you could afford another car."

She smirked at me. "And you certainly seemed to have enjoyed yourself last night, yelling something about how you knew sex could be like this. Rather loudly and repeatedly, too.

"Well, if you're not going to be using these...." She finished as she reached for the bands.

"Hey, those are mine!" I protested. At least it was work I enjoyed, I thought. And the trailer wasn't Todt Hill (it wasn't even Boot Hill) but it was a home for Lily and me.

"Okay. Just remember, red for straight sex, green for anal, yellow for oral, pink for gay or lesbian, purple for group, and, beware..." Wendy shivered, "black for kink, which can be anything from a little BDSM, toy play or some really strange stuff. Always be sure to find out exactly what you've agreed to before accepting a black band."

Now it's been a year since Brandon left. I miss my house on Staten Island, I miss the maid and nanny, and I really miss the fancy meals and wines we had at those client dinners. But surprisingly, I'm happy.

I never realized just how frustrated I was with Brandon. Now I know I was his beard, as Wendy explained it and now, I know why sex with him was so unsatisfying. I hadn't known any better at the time and was dazzled by how refined and clean he was. And that lovely smell.

Well, I found that one of the other girls at the lounge smelled the same. Wouldn't you know it, my husband had been wearing a woman's perfume, one apparently designed to attract men.

Well, I'm a simple country girl from Nowhere, Arkansas, and my appetite for sex is now more than satisfied. I've found that I can live without the wine and the exotic food and the fancy digs, but I think I'd die if I had to go back to the frustrating sexual existence my marriage provided me.

And, I've gotten quite a collection of bands over the past year, in all colors. Even black, although I've turned down most of those. A little bondage and whipping I can take; toy play can be fun; and I'll even tongue a clean rectum or don a strap-on to do a little pegging; but I don't have any desire to see how big an object I can take, be fisted or anything that involves real hurt, including auto-erotica.

Some people are just sick. But I'm just little ole Emma Gouch, from Nowhere, Arkansas, Todt Hill and lately of Marty's cigar lounge.