The Rating Game Disaster

"Isn't she too old for me? I don't turn twenty nine until next week." I replied, somewhat non-plussed.

"I tell you what," Susan said. "Here's her number -- I'll call it right now with you here to make sure that her service hasn't been cut off. Can you meet her tomorrow for dinner? If you have no interest after meeting her, then just walk away -- I won't build up her expectations. If you like her, be frank about what deal you have in mind. Sex instruction for room, board, and entertainment."

I asked myself what I had to lose and came up with "nothing," so I said "OK."

I met Brittany for dinner at a medium priced restaurant the next night. She was easy to spot. She had flaming red hair, big tits, a big ass, and a small waist. Her face wasn't classically beautiful but it was very pleasant -- open and friendly.

I couldn't believe how quickly we hit it off. I felt an immediate connection. After dinner we took a walk in a park and sat on a bench to talk.

"I don't know how much Susan told you about why I wanted to meet you," I said.

"Not much of anything except that you were a patient of hers and that we might be able to help each other out -- although I'm not sure what she meant by that," Brittany replied. "I'm not going to work as a call girl regardless of how desperate my situation is."

"I have a proposal for you," I replied, trying to act as professional as possible. "Why don't you come live in my apartment with me; I have a two bedroom one in a nice part of the city. If you cook and do wash for me I'll support you. If we establish an intimate relationship, and I can benefit from your experience, then I'll support you for job training, or whatever else you want to do. I'll sign a contract with you saying that in exchange for cooking for me I can't evict you without giving you six weeks notice."

Brittany sat without saying anything for a good two minutes; when she finally spoke up she simply said "OK," with a big grin on her face. We shook on it. I helped her move what little stuff she had into my apartment that Saturday after we signed a simple agreement, and we both were all smiles.

A platonic relationship lasted all of two days. I had really enjoyed her company Saturday and Sunday, and it was clear that she enjoyed mine too. Monday when I came home from work she was just getting out of the shower, apparently after her daily exercise, which would account for her well-toned thighs, a feature impossible to miss. She only had a towel on.

"I didn't know you were coming home this early," she said, with eyes wide.

"I took off early to see if I could treat you to dinner, but..." I said, staring at her since the towel barely covered her crotch.

"But what?" she asked with a grin.

I got as bold as I ever have been in my life -- plus corny. "I would love to eat here, at the 'Y'," I replied, licking my lips.

Brittany let the towel drop.

My tongue was in her snatch less than thirty seconds later. One finger was inside her pussy searching for her G-spot (she had a very sensitive one), and my tongue on her clit, a minute after that. We were fucking furiously two minutes after she came down from her first orgasm. She maneuvered me so that her heels were on my shoulders while I penetrated her with my cock, and in this position I almost bottomed out in her. Her big tits swaying, and her hand periodically stroking my balls, were soon too much to take and I blasted a load into her, eliciting pleasure moans although she didn't orgasm at that time.

That began the most sexually fulfilling time of my life. She taught me everything about what a woman wants, and how a woman should work to please me. She was a fucking tigress who could get me hard in about two seconds flat, could suck the chrome off of a trailer hitch, and would do anything. She showed me how to use butt plugs and vibrators to maximum advantage and how to switch sex positions without disengaging, and the pleasures of an ass-fuck.

I cut my work hours way down, because I really wanted to spend time with Brittany. My job was such that I wasn't hurting anyone else by working less; I would just make a little less money -- but I had plenty of that after two years of nothing but work.

In the next four months I honestly don't think that a day went by that Brittany and I didn't fuck at least once. Normally we fucked twice on both Saturday and Sunday, and sometimes in the middle of the week too. I paid for her job training, gave her spending money, and she cooked when we didn't go out, and kept the apartment immaculate.

When I had my last appointment with Susan, with a sly grin she asked me "So, how are things with Brittany."

"Way, way, way over-the-top fantastic," I replied with a big grin. "We're not in love with each other, but we sure have the mutually-satisfying sex thing down pat."

Susan smiled. "I talked to Brittany on the phone yesterday. I asked her to honestly evaluate you as a sex partner on a scale of 1-10. Do you want to hear her response?"

I wasn't sure; this was a moment of truth. "Uh, yes...yes I do," I finally replied.

"Nine most of the time; ten some of the time, and never less than eight; looks like if 2+ was ever true -- and I'm not sure that it was -- those days are long gone!" Susan said, beaming.

I felt so good that I didn't know whether I wanted to laugh or cry. Finally I decided to do neither and ask some questions.

"So where do I go from here?"

"Well, what are your plans with Brittany?" Susan asked.

"She finishes job training in a month, and hopes to have her own place and a job within a month or so after that. While we both really enjoy the sex -- I'd rate her a 10 without hesitation -- and each other's company, we both realize that our relationship is not long term. What I meant is do I need any more sessions?"

"No, but there is one last thing if you are to be a complete, unequivocal success," Susan replied. Then she stared into space for a few seconds, rocked back and forth in her chair a couple of times, sighed, and looked me straight in the eye. "For the last part of your therapy, to insure that you are completely cured, you have to have sex with Ginger again. Can you manage it?" Susan inquired.

I almost lost it. That was the last thing that I expected her to say.

"Why?" I whined once I regained my composure.

"To exorcise your last demons. I'm not suggesting that you marry her again, or have a long standing relationship with her. All that I'm suggesting -- to put this crudely -- is that you fuck her brains out and see for yourself how her reaction has changed. I assure you that there will be no fake orgasm -- but you need to know for yourself otherwise there will always be doubt in your mind."

"Hmmm," was the only response that I could muster.

"Think about it. You and I are done, however, and it has been very enjoyable having you as a patient. I can tell you that I am thrilled by the results, and wish you all the best in the future," Susan said with a big grin as she stood up.

"Thank you, Susan -- you've been great; you and Nadine could not have been better," I replied, extending my hand to shake hers.

"No handshake bullshit," she laughed as she approached me and gave me a big hug. I squeezed her back.

I had a lot to think about. Since I respected Brittany as an "older woman," and this was something I sure couldn't ask my mother, I asked her opinion on Susan's last quest. "Susan's previous quest set me up with you -- which could not possibly have worked out better," I said; "but do you think the latest one is realistic."

"Sure," Brittany nonchalantly replied. "Just on the basis of sexual fulfillment alone I'd stay with you, and there is no reason she wouldn't want to see if you've changed."

"You don't think that she hates me now?"

"I can't really answer that question for you, but the point is Susan hasn't been wrong before so why not give it a try?" Brittany responded.

"Well...she lives five hundred miles away, and I wouldn't know how to break the ice," I whimpered, rubbing my hands together.

"Man up," Brittany laughed. "I'll be out of your hair in two months, you're on a month-to-month lease for your apartment, and you told me a number of times you'd like to move back to your home town. As for contacting her, my God, you were married to the woman for five years, you should know how to do that. If you have a problem, call one of her friends -- like the Sybil person who had the party that ruined your self-confidence."

I shrugged my shoulders and said "I guess."

Brittany got a diabolical smile and ran her fingers over my crotch, instantly hardening me. "Why don't you show me how you're going to fuck her comatose?"

I did. I put more energy into that fuck than any other I've ever had in my life. After first eating Brittany to two orgasms I pounded her doggy style so hard that her big tits were smacking together loud enough to sound like a crowd at an athletic event. I came so hard, while at the same time that I stuck a finger in her ass, that she did go comatose for a few seconds. When she finally recovered, after some nice aftershocks, she looked me in the eye and said "Shit, Justin, that was the best fuck of my life. I hope that she has a heavy duty chassis because if you fuck her like you did me you might kill her!"

Then Brittany passionately kissed me, and dissolved into a puddle of protoplasm, either asleep or passed out within seconds.

After Brittany's last evaluation of my performance, and thinking back again on how everything that Susan had told me and done for me was spot on, I made plans for my return to my home town and my seduction of my ex-wife.

Within two months I had a lower pressure version of my present job in my home city; I had talked to Sybil and Ashley -- after swearing them to secrecy about me contacting them -- and found out that Ginger didn't date much and was having a hard time moving on, and would likely welcome contact from me. Brittany got high recommendations from her job-training instructors and landed the perfect job for her.

I paid two months advance rent on my apartment so that Brittany would have a place to stay until she found suitable lodging after her first three months of work; I left my furniture with her since it would have been more trouble than it was worth to move it, and she had use for it. Brittany had a long list of guys interested in her so she would have no trouble hooking up with someone once I left.

A few days before I moved, Brittany and I went for a long weekend together to a resort in the mountains. We didn't get in much fishing, hiking, or sight-seeing, but we did break the bed in the room that we were staying in. We both had tears in our eyes when we parted and wished the other the best of luck.

Less than a week after I moved, through Sybil -- who still felt guilty about her part in our divorce -- I set up an "inadvertent" meeting between Ginger and I at a local mall. Sybil called me on her cellphone to tell me what store she and Ginger were going to. I "just happened" to be looking at some clothing at the front of that store when Sybil and Ginger sashayed in.

"Justin!" Sybil exclaimed, then said to Ginger, "Holy shit, Ginger, it's Justin," as she grabbed Ginger's arm and hustled over to me. I acted surprised but warm.

Ginger looked like she had seen a ghost.

I looked Ginger over from head to toe. She looked real good -- a few lines in her face, maybe she had lost five pounds, which she couldn't really afford to lose, but she looked real good!

"Hi, Ginger, hi, Sybil. Nice to see you," I said cheerfully.

"When did you get into town?" Sybil gushed; "are you just visiting?"

"I moved here just this week; I'm back in town, hopefully for good," I replied, trying to conjure a shy smile.

"Well why didn't you call us?" Sybil asked, acting a little huffy.

"I was working up the courage to do so. I especially wanted to call you, Ginger, but I was afraid of what your reaction might be -- I,...,uh, well,...I didn't know if you ever wanted to see me again," I sheepishly said.

"Well of course she did, right, Ginger?" Sybil said with a big grin.

Ginger was just standing there, looking like she wanted to say something but the words just wouldn't come out. There was a tear in her eye as she stammered "I...I...I"

Sybil put her out of her misery. "Justin why don't you take Ginger to one of the mall restaurants; we were both getting ready to eat soon anyway. Call me when you want me to pick Ginger up since we came together."

"I'll give her a ride home," I quickly said. "That is if you will let me take you to lunch, Ginger."

"OK," she weakly replied and stopped the tears that had been starting to form.

Talk about uncomfortable. The first fifty minutes that Ginger and I were together in the restaurant were the most awkward of my life. Neither of us was willing to talk about the 800 pound gorilla in the room, so we just asked general questions about how we had been, what we were doing now, things like that -- along with a number of painful pauses. Just as I was about to ask for the check Ginger blurted out "I missed you Justin. I hope that we can be friends."

"I'm not interested in being friends with you, Ginger," I said in a flat tone. Her face dropped, before I continued, "However, I am interested in dating you." She tried hard, and fairly successfully, to suppress a grin.

Then Ginger's mouth evidenced a half sneer, and she said "I don't know, you hurt me a lot by divorcing me."

I know that I flushed with anger. "Shit, I'm sorry, I thought that it was you who cheated and insulted me to your friends. I guess I remembered it wrong, huh?" With that I got up, threw two twenties on the table, and started walking away, mad at myself for having blown it, but even madder at Ginger for such an asshole comment.

By the time that I had exited the restaurant she had caught up with me. She body-checked me into a wall and before I could stop her threw her arm around my neck and started kissing me. In between kisses she moaned "I'm sorry that I drove you away," about fifteen times. I have to admit that the kisses felt good -- Ginger always was a fantastic kisser.

She finally let me up for air and said "Yes, I would like to go out on a date with you. When?"

I so wanted to say "Screw you, bitch," but that wouldn't get me in her pants; so I replied "How about Saturday night; I'll pick you up at 7:00 for dinner and dancing."

"Perfect," she smiled. "I can show you where I live when you take me home."

She squeezed my hand when I got to her apartment building -- a different one than we had lived in together. She invited me in to show me her place, but I declined.

When I picked Ginger up on Saturday it was obvious that she had gone all out to look "killer." She was perplexed when I didn't enter her apartment but just waited outside it while she put the finishing touches on, but she never said anything about it. When she did emerge I didn't recognize any of the clothes that she had on, but they showed off her exquisite body perfectly. She had just the right amount of makeup on, including eye shadow that highlighted her enchanting blue eyes. It was almost like a first date for both of us, but with someone we had known a long time.

We had a great time at dinner and dancing, including a few slow dances where I couldn't help but get hard, and I couldn't hide it from the damn vixen because she put her thigh between my legs. When I brought her home she invited me in. Here was my chance to score, bang her into an orgasmic state, and then leave her; I'm still not sure exactly why I didn't do that but I declined to enter her apartment. There was a look of real disappointment on her face; however she instantly brightened up when I asked her to go to a play with me on Tuesday night. She quickly agreed.

We went out three or four nights a week for the next three weeks. While we kissed I never went any further with her than rubbing her tits through her clothing, and was able to cleverly maneuver her hand away from my zipper in each of the numerous times she tried to stroke or expose my cock, which was always stiff around her. I also never entered her apartment.

Of course I was playing mind games with Ginger, but even though I fucked two sluts during this time, I was really starting to torture myself as much as Ginger. During this time we had never discussed the circumstances surrounding our divorce. Things came to a head when we were returning from a baseball game one Sunday afternoon. Ginger asked if we could go to a park that she and I had gone to frequently when we were married.

While we sat on our favorite bench, isolated from most of the activity in the park, Ginger laid it all out.

"Why won't you come into my apartment, Justin?"

"Because, Ginger, there might be things in there that remind me of our marriage, things I want to forget."

"You'd be surprised to find that there is nothing from our former life that is visible; all the furniture has been replaced and the photos are all hidden away."

"Oh," I replied, in fact genuinely surprised.

"Why haven't you invited me to your apartment, Justin?"

"Because it would definitely lead to sex and I don't want to disappoint you," I nonchalantly replied.

Ginger got a desperate hurt look on her face and tears welled up in her eyes. "Justin, I know that you don't want to talk about what happened to us, but I'm going to and if you try to walk away I'll hold onto you and make a scene. Love was always more important to me than sex, and I loved you, and only you; and I'm so, so sorry that I hurt you. I can't tell you how I've agonized over it. I want you to give me another chance, and I think that you're willing to since you've gone out with me more than a dozen times since your return."

"Maybe I've changed enough so that you don't want me -- maybe now I'm more interested in sex than love," I responded with an edgy tone.

"I want to find out," she cried.

"Let's go to your apartment then," I said, eliciting a big smile from Ginger.

I had gone over the scenario many times in my mind -- I visualized it just like a wide receiver visualizes the key routes he'll run in a game, or a forward visualizes how he'll drive to the basket against a certain opponent. It included what I did to Brittany to render her comatose, plus a twist.

As soon as we entered Ginger's apartment I smashed my lips into hers as I roughly removed her clothes, including tearing her panties and popping one of the hooks on her bra. While still smashing my lips into hers I picked her up by the ass cheeks and essentially drove her into her couch. Once she was sitting there I got on my knees, spread her legs, and went after her pussy with every digit, my tongue, my lips, and even my nose.

Once I had her moaning I searched for a G-spot, something that I didn't even know was real before I met Nadine so I didn't know for sure if she had one. I found a raised bundle of nerves in the roof of her pussy. I went after it with my middle finger of my right hand while sucking on her clit and manipulating one of her nipples with my left hand. Ginger orgasmed within seconds; I could be sure by the way that her body involuntarily twitched and writhed that it wasn't a fake one. Nor were the three others that followed in quick succession.

Once Ginger started begging me to let her come down from her latest orgasm I pulled her off the couch onto her hands and knees, quickly shed my clothes, and then shoved my rock hard cock up her pussy in one thrust. I fingered her asshole with one hand while pulling her hair back with the other, as I proceeded to bang the ever-loving shit out of her. She went through another orgasm before I blasted a full load into her sopping wet cunt, triggering yet another one.

The last climax rendered her comatose. Her eyes were closed, she was moaning, and her body was limp. When my cock went flaccid I pulled out of her, lifted her flopping body off of the rug, and carried her to her bed. Then I got dressed and left.