The Institute of Hedonism

"Lena..." I started, then I let out a long, deep breath. My fingers were still wet from her, so I reached out and grazed her left hip with my right wrist.

"Lena." I was deep inside a mist-shrouded place of our own making in which I could breath out nothing but her name or I would break the spell.

"I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable, I had to let you know how I feel; what you are doing to me," she stated. "But before we go on, and actually go back to the massage instead of foreplay, I have to know something."

"Anything!"

"How did you end up choosing me?"

I was confused. I was still dazed by the glancing touch of her opening, by the warm pungent taste of her love juice.

"Umm... the company website. I looked for... frankly, girls I found attractive, in addition to high ratings and lots of experience."

"How many girls came up?" she asked.

"About six."

Lena sighed again. "There are 35 to 40 masseuses working at any one time. Somebody made sure that I came up, and that you had less of a selection."

"But who? Why?!"

Lena leaned over me and kissed me. It was a surprise-- it was a soft, loving kiss. "Oh you dear sweet man. Someone wants you to not only stay here, but also to accept our lifestyle completely: nudity, sensuality, the pursuit of beauty and pleasure."

I only hesitated a moment. "Samantha."

"You ARE as bright as you are cute. She has psychosexual personality tests on all of us. She knew we would find each other irresistible. You're right: I'm your carrot on the stick."

* * *

Lena told me her story after she had firmly pressed my tummy, flipped me over and was working out the kinks in my neck, my shoulders and my back.

She had started out wanting so much to be a physical therapist to help other people in pain. When she really looked into it and discovered how many years of her life she would have to give up at university, she sat down and cried in her room for half a day.

She became a massage therapist instead, working for a highly-regarded physical therapist who often treated well-known athletes for sports injuries.

Lena told me that some men were "unbelievable." They would hint that they wanted "happy endings," they would ask why she didn't work nude. So one day, she did.

Lena never charged extra for the spectacular view she provided. Her boss never found out, and in fact, praised her work. Her boss was amazed that the men she worked on not only never missed a therapy session but seemed eager to schedule their next appointment.

One day, a world famous athlete came in. Lena was in awe-- but of course kept her clothes on. Until the end of the massage, as he got up and put on his robe, he said: "I thought you worked naked."

Lena nearly fainted. He assured her that he would never tell, but that she should know that some men were openly bragging about their "sexy nude masseuse."

Then he asked her to take off all her clothes for him. Lena knew that she had no choice. She was so afraid that he was going to simply push her down on the massage table and take her, but she stripped down anyway and stood there, nude and shaking.

He inspected her body, thoroughly. He had her lift up her breasts and then he turned her around and personally opened up her buttocks. He turned her back around and smiled when he saw how naturally open Lena's body already was to him down below.

"I won't need to really open you up much here," he told her, grinning. "Just keep standing there like a good girl, and your evaluation will be over in no time!"

Lena was helpless and numb. Who and what was he 'evaluating' her for?

He knelt in front of her and she instinctively opened her legs for him, his eyes being at the level of her pouty mound; her gaping vulva.

He used two fingers of one hand to push in fairly hard where her inner lips began to flagrantly bulge out. With the other hand he used two fingers to pull and to play with her equally bulging slippery nub. Lena tried to stay still but she was helplessly grinding and pushing her lower self into him.

Then he simply cupped his hand between her soft thighs and just lightly pressed. He looked up at her; he looked deep into her eyes, waiting. She shuddered uncontrollably and she felt her body give up an unwilling sample of her hot liquid into his cupped, waiting hand.

He stood up slowly, careful not to spill a drop. He sniffed his hand first then he put his finger to his lips. "Pungent. Tangy. More of the the warm, deep-forested earth than of the sea."

He held out his finger to her and she took it into her mouth and sucked. As she took in his 6' 5" lean and muscular frame, she knew that he was an expert handler of women.

As she cleaned his fingers of her own juices she had a sudden vision that came to her unbidden:

Lena was naked, sweated, oiled and leashed by him in some kind of underground amphitheater. There were nude and unbelievably erect men, blindfolded and strapped or chained to various posts and other devices of public restraint. While a dimly lit audience cheered her on, she was to sexually service each writhing male in a very specific way.

It was a sexual obstacle course and she was already a champion.

She gasped and blinked her eyes furiously as he withdrew his fingers and wiped them off on his towel. He found and opened his wallet and took out a business card.

"This is the private number of the President of the Institute. Call her; look her up-- look us up. You'll recognize her name."

Lena was breathing so hard she thought she was going to faint. He startled her by stepping up and holding her gently and stroking her hair. She started sobbing and she didn't know why. She only knew that her life had changed: a door was opening for her and she was so afraid to enter it.

"Shh... shh," he stroked her hair and she collapsed against his powerful chest. "My sweet, soft, beautiful naked girl. You can't stay here, so we will give you a home. Do you want to find a place where you can throw away your clothes and stroll around like a naked goddess: men and women falling at your feet?"

Lena sniffed and she raised her head. This was a man who knew how to handle beautiful naked women: whether he was leading them in chains or they were melting in his powerful arms. She simply blinked away her tears and nodded yes.

* * *

By now, Lena had advanced to the location of her last hands-on treatment: my buttocks. She spread me open, she teased my opening, and she ended by kissing each cheek.

"Look at you!" she exclaimed. "My little story affected you... largely."

"Lena..." I couldn't stop breathing out her name. "I just can't get enough of you."

Then I felt her climbing up on the table. She lowered her body down; her smooth right leg between my own hairy legs. She embraced my entire body with her full weight. I tried to twist my head toward her but she warned I would "wreck my neck." Lena kissed that neck as she tried to snuggle her full naked self into my skin.

"I love three women, and..." I couldn't find a way to complete that statement... not yet.

"Let me, as you Americans say, get out my tiny little violin," Lena said. "That's so sad: that you have that much love to give, and that so many love you right back."

"I'm an idiot," I declared.

"A gorgeous idiot," she agreed, kissing my cheek. "But, let me finish my massage in my own special way, otherwise, I will be on overtime."

I felt her lift herself up and sensed that she was doing the plank over me. Then I felt her lightly brushing the back of my head, my neck, my shoulders. Lena was brushing me with her naked breasts.

My entire body, every inch of my skin, was deliciously tingling in anticipation. The indescribable feel of her overwhelming softness, combined with those unexpectedly hard little buttons all over me...

When she reached my buttocks I parted my thighs but she gave me a playful slap. Then I knew what she was doing. I felt her squeezing her twin mounds tightly together and pushing them down and in between: first, over my ticklish sac, then over the glans of my poky cock.

Lena rubbed back and forth and her every movement was bringing me to new heights until I warned her that I just couldn't stand it anymore.

She squeezed herself out and eased herself off of me. She ran the tips of her fingers all over my body and I moaned in blissful pleasure.

"We have to hurry if we are to take our showers." She sounded nervous.

I flipped over and sat up. I motioned for her to sit next to me and I wrapped one arm around her as she rested her head on my shoulder.

"We don't have much time-- I am still on the clock! Until She approves, I could be disciplined."

I had my own sudden vision. "The amphitheater?" I asked. "You: oiled and leashed?"

"The amphitheater and the expert girl-handlers-- that's their highest level of entertainment!" Lena moaned. "Their discipline is much worse than that!"

I kissed her hard. I stood up and pushed her down on the table.

"No, please!" She was crying now. "I want you so much but there is no time!"

I saw the digital clock on the wall behind me. "Six minutes," I informed her. "We're both ready to explode, then we'll take a quick shower together."

I climbed on top of her and she parted her legs. I shook my head and I pushed my right knee up into her hot open pinkness. She gasped and I felt both sets of engorged lips straining around me, trying to pull me in.

She started bucking up and down, grinding herself against me. Her love tunnel had transformed itself into a warm wet chamber to tightly welcome any man-flesh in the vicinity and she was far beyond any concept of decency or self-control.

I leaned over her and I positioned my wildly thrashing penis against her breasts. Lena felt me instantly and now both her upper and lower body were twisting against me.

Neither one of us could hold back. She came hard and pulsating waves of her sticky hot white honey flooded over my leg. I gave up and I screamed her name and my own milky stream arced high over her body and struck her face: her eyes, her cheek, her chin.

I saw her instantly open her mouth and I knew that this was a woman who had been specially trained to seek out cum and take it into every orifice without waste. I was so enraptured and so intrigued by this incredible creature of girl-flesh writhing beneath me that I could not imagine life without her.

I helped her up, looking at and damning the digital clock on the wall. I took her by the hand and led her into her shower. Lena stood there and let me do everything-- quickly. I covered her with body wash and rinsed it off in an instant. I only got clean tangentially, by standing in the hot spray and in the splashes of soapy water from her own body.

I toweled her off and she seemed to come back to life and returned the favor. I glanced at the wall-- two minutes, I told her.

Lena put her hand on my chest. "If She releases me, if all agree, I will be your 'Amant nu,' your naked lover. I cannot only massage you... I can't! Instead, I will come to you wherever and whenever you want me. I will wear the red scarf which means I am giving up to be paid to be with my lover-- we are all trained in the art of love but we are not whores!"

I smiled as I noticed that her 'French detective" patois had returned. Lena must have become so used to it, she unconsciously lapsed into it when she was getting emotional.

One minute. She kissed me. There were tears in her eyes again. "We must be out," she said. "Both doors must open and close."

Lena went to her door and it slid open. I stood in my open door. The light in the corridor behind her was yellowish; suddenly I wanted to see her naked in the sun. I wanted her to hike with me into the foothills and find a rambling stream. I wanted to pound her sweet body into the earth next to that stream until her cries of passion made the birds fly away in terror.

"This must not be the last time I see you!" she declared. She took one determined step and the door closed. I stepped out into the hallway. I was back in what passed for reality. There were occasional naked people passing by; they must have nodded and smiled at me.

I stared at the door. "I love you Lena," I declared to it. "I cannot imagine never seeing you again."

As I walked away I wondered why my eyes were stinging. It was that damned body wash. And it was so hot in here. By the time I got back to the changing rooms I had almost convinced myself that that was true.

* * *

Samantha made her announcement within a week after Lena. Purely a coincidence, I'm sure. I was nearing my one-year anniversary at the Institute, I would coming off probation, (I never knew I was on it), and I would be made Director of our Creative Team.

When Sam told me she was taking me on a tour of my new digs-- the eighth floor-- she told me to "dress light." I groaned. What I had heard was true: the eighth floor was nudity required.

I wore nothing but a t-shirt and shorts; Sam wore a sundress. She used her keycard for access to 8, and when the elevator doors opened, we were in an anteroom with both men's and women's clothing hung on hooks.

We watched each other undress. There was a part of me that still couldn't believe how much I wanted this woman with her body at least twenty years older than mine, but it was like being with a nude Sophia Loren or a naked Raquel Welch when they were that age.

"Are you ready," the nude Samantha asked.

"As ready as I'll ever be," I mumbled.

She looked between my legs and shook her head. "You're going to be introduced to some beautiful naked women; you simply cannot walk in 'half-cocked.'"

Sam wrapped her hand around my penis and started pulling me. "Come on," she said. "I'll drop it when you're able to walk around on your own like the big man you are."

So my boss led me into what was to be my new office, to meet my new employees, one hand firmly gripped around my apparently not quite hard enough cock.

We passed a few nude men and women in the opening corridor who took in the scene and smiled. Sam stopped at the first open office area and a willowy blonde saw us coming and stood up.

Ursula, as she was introduced, defined the term 'willowy blonde.' She had shoulder-length golden blonde hair, and a sweet shy face that blushed easily every time she said something naughty.

Her breasts were delicately rounded at about 32B, with light rose little buds and barely-there matching aureole. Her cute mound looked like it wanted to hide from all the attention with two rose petal outer lips very properly closed, and just a puff of darker blonde fur that was made for sweet kisses and long-fingered caresses.

Ursula's legs were classic lean, luscious limbs that I wanted to kiss all the way up from her bare toes up to her soft but firm thighs. I was strangely picturing those bare legs in a variety of dangerously revealing skirts and dresses, nylons, heels and garter belts.

Samantha let go of my cock. "Clearly, he's in love," she told the girl, who blushed.

"Oh my god it's beautiful," she gushed in a German accent. "Is he the one? Oh my god-- can I greet him properly? Is he ready?"

Sam stared at me. "Tell her you want her to greet you, the way that she's been trained."

I could not take my eyes off this nude blonde sexual fantasy before me in the flesh.

"You can greet me anyway you want, my sweet beautiful girl!" I gasped out, my voice already husky.

Ursula got down on her knees. I noticed she had fine gold chains around her neck, on her wrists, around her waist, and on her ankles. They accentuated her nakedness... my heart was beating wildly.

Ursula put one hand under my hard cock and touched it lightly and lovingly. "I can't believe it's really him-- I can't believe you brought him right to me!" She was addressing a beaming Sam with tears in her eyes.

Then, as she no doubt had been trained, she lifted up her hazel eyes to mine and never broke from her gaze-- even as she took the thick head of my penis into her mouth and let it rest upon her tongue.

"You two have a lot in common," Samantha observed as the little naked blonde took even more of me in. "Ursula is working on our new resort in Japan-- and you both love Japanese porn. I think I'll send the two of you over there to do the initial interviews with all those blushing Asian beauties having to undress for you."

Ursula's eyes got wide. She was trying to work me slowly by only moving her head up and down on my cock, now pointed skyward. She was really trying not to use her tongue but I felt an involuntary gulp as our dirty viewing habits were exposed-- I felt it up and down my shaft.

Sam saw how close I was and advised the poor nude girl that that was more than enough of an initial greeting.

"Remember our motto," Samantha reminded Ursula as she stood up naked on wobbly legs, licking her lips.

"Hard cocks and wet cunts are creativity's playground," my nude blonde friend

responded.

Sam laughed. "Thank you for that translation! It sounds so much better in French though."

Samantha dragged me away after some delightfully naked hugs and wet kisses. "You love her legs; she worships your cock. I predict you two will work together just fine."

She led me to a set of double doors. There was a large finely furnished room with a very beautiful, very naked and very hairless lady with skin the color of fine cocoa seated behind an ornate, antique desk.

"Oh my god," she exclaimed with a lilting Jamaican accent, getting up. "Is this Him?!" She walked on over. Her body was positively chiseled... this was the most well-muscled female form I had ever seen nude. Her head was shaved but for a fine, silver stubble. Her age was indeterminate-- possibly between Sam and me.

The woman came right up to me and then felt my thighs. "Oh, the muscles," she exclaimed. "Can he stand on tippy-toe so I can feel the calves? And the cock-- ooh, some men make it dance with the muscles."

Samantha admonished her: "Now, Adjani; this man is going to be your boss in three weeks. He is not going to stand on tippy-toes and he certainly not going to make his cock dance!"

Adjani looked down at the floor-- well, sort of at the floor-- more at my penis. "Ooh," she suddenly cried out. "Ooohh..."

"What is it?" I turned to Samantha. "What's happening?"

Sam shook her head. "She's cumming; she does this all day. You think you're bad..."

I turned back to this incredible female and decided that I was not just going to stand there and watch. I went up to her-- close enough to steady her body with one hand on the small of her back. The other went between her legs where I made a cup with my open palm.

Adjani's eyes went wide, then they closed. She shuddered and did I feel it! Her thighs slammed shut on my hand, then opened again. As they opened, a torrent of her warm love juice poured out, nearly filling my palm. The whole time I was whispering: "It's alright: cum for me, my beautiful lady; cum for me."

When she was done she gasped for breath. She put a hand on my shoulder to steady herself, then she backed away.

"Look at me!" I commanded. She did. I cupped my sopping hand under my nose and inhaled. I held it just under my lips and stuck my tongue into the center.

I closed my eyes.

I could smell the warm ocean at night. I could feel the breeze swaying the trees. I could smell the sun-heated earth and sand still radiating warmth into the darkness. I saw a naked brown nymph-- a younger version of Adjani-- dancing on the beach wearing nothing but bells on her toes. A strong, powerful, towering naked man-- his skin jet-black-- danced with her, laughing. His penis was as towering as he was. He picked her up and he carried her to a sand dune and he laid her down and he parted her thighs--

I opened my eyes. Now I was gasping. Adjani turned to Samantha. "He can SEE-- you saw it. He is one of us."