The Sidecar Tales 02 - Jane

Susan was on her knees in a flash, taking my cock-head into her mouth, and starting to suck on it, while fingering Jane's pussy and clit with her left hand. I couldn't help it, due to the change in intense stimulation, and, shouting aloud, I came hard ... into Susan's mouth. And she kept right on sucking, swallowing my jism, and then working over my slowly softening shaft and cock-head, until I was completely soft and retreated into about a one-inch length.

I fell back on the bed, and it was Susan who freed Jane from the swing. They both fell to the bed on either side of us. Susan kept drilling Jane, and fingering her pussy, to keep the orgasms going, while Jane kept up her speech and language.

Therapy was never like this, I concluded.

We rested for an hour or so. I was concerned that Susan had other commitments, but she just shushed me, and we dozed away another hour. By the time she had to leave, it was two o'clock in the afternoon. Susan was floored when I made it clear I was paying her for three hours of therapy, and tried to protest. I simply told her that the sex was, and always would be, free, but the speech stimulation—even performed naked and drooling pussy juice—was a professional service. So she walked out of our suite of rooms a few hundred dollars richer, and shaking her head.

Jane and I spent the next several hours alternately giggling, working on speech and language exercises, and cuddling in each other's arms. In the evening, we sought a nice diner and a movie. Just your typical older guy and his little Asian fuck-buddy girl-friend. The next day, I took my Plain Jane (who wasn't plain) out for a drive around the local area, and she and I stayed away all of the day, doing not much, and going to no-particular-place.

The following day was Friday, and Susan carded herself in to the inn, with the guest-card I'd arranged for her. Walking in the door of our rooms, she just grinned at us both, and stripped bare in a minimum of motions, as she was wearing an ankle-length trench-coat, which she just shrugged off. Revealing a nude and very hot body beneath, in high-heel 'fuck-me' leather boots.

Jane threw herself at Susan, stripping as she went. Within about three minutes, both girls were nakedly pussy-bumping on the bed. Jane's language improved to her love-making levels, and Susan stimulated it, as the both of them delved deep in the lesbian arts of fucking.

Sometime later, I found Susan in the sex-swing, which was re-adjusted to fit her size to my cock-height, and I was inside her, thrusting hard but slowly.

Grinning, I said, "Fuck me like a slut." Susan, puffy aureoles and nipples standing out, and clit distended, groaned with pleasure, and half-whispered, half-spoke, said, "How about I fuck you like a ho? I was one, once."

Powering into her body, I raised my eyebrow.

She gasped out, in-between thrusts and gasps, and occasional cums, "I was OK in school, until the last year of my Master's, when my grant was closed out. I didn't have enough money for my apartment, bare living, and school. So I called up an 'escort' service, and, that night, they had a 'date' with a guy who wanted a very tall girl. We had a nice date, including dinner, and then we had a lot of really good sex, after which he took me to breakfast. I made more on that 'date' than I made all week at my former fast-food place, and I could still go to class in the daytime."

"After that, I 'dated' about three times a week, and learned a lot about fucking, sucking, and some of the real odd things that some guys like. I also learned to love sex—no love or anything like that—just plain fucking. Then, after a few weeks, I was assigned a 'date' with a wealthy woman, and I discovered I was bi. I 'escorted' over a hundred men and some women over that semester and the next, and also for my Clinical Fellowship Year in speech pathology, working for an out-and-out sadistic lesbian boss. Fuck me deep, you stud. Harder, HARDER!"

"But," she went on, as I continued to drive my cock deeply into her clit-distended body, "when I wouldn't submit to her in the clinic's office, after hours, she deliberately ruined my professional reputation all over my state. She must have pulled in twenty years of 'favors' and 'skeletons-in-the-closet,' 'cause I was persona non grata everywhere in that state. I had my degree, and my professional certification, but couldn't get a license to practice. Oh, God, you feel sooo good in there, ahhh, I'm cumming ..."

"So," she finished, "I had to move here, get a license and try to set myself up as an itinerant therapist, working the nursing-home circuit. But I ran into the feminist-lesbian speech pathology clique here, too, which left me either private practice, fast-food, or whoring myself out again. There's a lot of good money in 'escorting', its true, but there's also disease, police corruption, organized crime, possibility for blackmail, violence, sadism and drugs, too, and I wanted a future, which escorting and whoring doesn't have. Damn, man, you're really good. Ahhh, you're such a fucking machine. Cum into me. Come on man, squirt a creampie into my ho's pussy, right now. Come on, fuck me, I'm a whore, your whore, fuck my whore's cunt, FUCK ME right now!"

Swinging in the bedroom, she looked down at my shaft, as I fucked her faster, working toward my own orgasm, and said, "So, when you both called, I was on my last legs, and now I have a real speech practice, with an income, and I can pay the rent. I can be a slut and give it away and I can fuck you like the bi-slut I am, 'cause I like it. I want you inside my body. Damn-it, fuck me, I'M A SLUT! Fuck me good, I'm cummming again ..."

I shot my load deep into Susan's body. Then, trembling, I got her out of the swing, and into bed, where Jane was waiting, and the two of them cuddled each other, while simultaneously displaying Jane's pussy and Susan's dark-nippled tits to my gaze.

Later, lying in bed, my Jane painfully and slowly admitted what I already knew ... that, in the month she was on the street, she'd fucked for food and money, too, which was where the blanket had come from.

Rising to the occasion, I had my Plain Jane Park on top of me, making her squeal with orgasm, as I told her in words of one syllable that I didn't care what she'd done, or who she'd done it with, just as long as I was in her now, and I could take care of her. Then Susan did speech and language exercises with Jane, as I slowly and deliberately thrust into her for as long as I could, before filling her with my sperm.

Susan stayed with us that evening ... and had breakfast with us the next morning. Sausage patties and waffles, made with eggnog, and raspberry syrup, as I recall. Over breakfast, she doodled her ideas on what a good speech pathology private practice would have to have, and sighed over how long it would take to save enough to get a loan.

Grinning, I told her to submit a grant request to the Widdershins Foundation. About twenty-four hours later, when it 'funded' the establishment of a speech and language clinic, Sharon and Jane were both surprised.

I don't think that either of them realized that I was the Widdershins Foundation.

We toured likely spots for a house-and-office combination, and found one, going for a distressed sale on foreclosure. A couple of slutty sex-filled weeks, and Susan had her house upstairs, with kitchen downstairs and the clinic and office occupying half the remaining space. Another couple of weeks to organize, move in, and get supplies, get signage put up, get insurance, etc.; all the things needed to start and run a small business.

All this time, Sharon continued to stimulate my Plain Jane Park in speech and language, and her speech usage slowly continued to improve.

One day, as we were rather more than half-way through the clinic set-up process, Sharon suddenly proposed that Jane come live with her, for something like 24-hour a day speech stimulation, and also for very frequent sex stimulation, too. Before I could object, Sharon gave me a set of keys to the front and back doors. When Jane pleaded (shades of a set-up deal, I thought), I 'gave in.'

Inside of an hour, Jane was packed and moved, including the sex-swing and some toys. I sighed, as I knew that the girl-loving side of Jane's make-up was gaining strength, and that I'd have to move on, soon.

Wrong!

About seven o'clock that night, I got an angry call from my little Asian sex-kitten. I was informed that, "I should get my ass shit, damn, fuck, no, damn-it, over her, right now, no fuckin' waiting and bring my fuckin' cock!" I showed up at Sharon's home office in under half an hour, and was met with giggling-rage, as Jane grabbed me as the back door closed, and pulled me into the back stairwell that led to the second floor of the house. She was stripping as she started up the stairs, and pulled my hard cock out as we reached the hall entrance. Within two minutes, she'd mounted me, and fucked herself into her first orgasm, and told me, "You think you gave me to a new girl friend. Well, you did, but I want my Tom Cattus dick, too, and I'm gonna get it, hard and deep. You got that, mister little Asian slut lover."

I got it, as she fucked herself into a half-dozen more orgasms, while I tried to keep up with her thrusting and twisting.

Suddenly, I was looking at her through a set of tanned, lightly freckled legs. Looking up, I saw Sharon staring down at me, her vision partly blocked by her set of boobs, capped by distended dark nipples.

"You got enough, girl-friend," she said, "so get off and let me at him."

Jane pulled off, and rolled to one side, to watch, as Susan impaled herself on my still-hard cock, and started a slow up and down stroke. She said, "Well, Mr. Widdershins, what do you think of your grant recipient now. You like the way she feels inside? Like the sight of her real sensitive nude boobies dangling just over your mouth? You like her 'escort-trained' hip action, huh, Mr. Widdershins, that'll milk your cock dry in a few minutes?"

Oh, God, I was busted!

She grinned, working her ho-knowledgeable hips in a tight circle while still working herself up and down, and said, "I've got a MS degree, and that meant a thesis, so I can do book and journal research with the best. I checked out the Widdershins Foundation in the online Foundations Directory, and what did I find? The chairman of the Widdershins corporation was one Thomas Cattus. The head of donations was Thomas Cattus, too."

"So, Mister CEO and head of donations, I just want you to know that I've accepted the grant from your foundation to start my clinic and practice. I've hired your Plain Jane Park out from under you, 'cause we've figured out how to get her to speak, so she's my scheduler, receptionist and she's a whiz at bookkeeping. But, now, I'll bet you're getting close to cumming, 'cause I'm really good at what I do, and that's doing speech pathology and fucking girls and guys."

"So I'll take your money for the speech clinic and for Jane's therapy, but what I'm doing to you, and what Jane just did for you, that's always gonna be free. You got that? Free. Where your swelling cock is right now is free. My tits in your hands are free. My mouth for your penis, that's free. My ass, if you want it, that's free too. Jane's pussy, tits, ass and mouth, too. No money. No favors. No strings. No conditions. Open access. Free. Forever."

She finished, as her hips finally tripped my switch, and I screamed, groaned, and lurched up, trying to lift her body off the floor, as I came into her, pulsing and pulsing. She held her posture, head thrown back, and giggling, laughing and orgasming, breasts bouncing over her chest, all at the same time.

Jame watched, and giggled, and told me they'd share out my penis, between bouts of pleasuring each other.

Somehow, I managed to crawl to the bedroom, and the both of them, working together, heaved me into the king-sized bed, where I passed out in a post-sex fug.

In the morning, I managed to drag myself to the bathroom, to relieve my overfull bladder, and then get dressed. Well, if a breechclout and belt, plus sock-slippers is dressed, then I was. I stumbled downstairs, and was met with Jane, who had coffee, juice and a very rich waffle ready for me.

Jane waited until I ate—inhaled the food, more likely—and then simply said, "Hi, Tom. Kiss me real good, before I go to work for Sharon."

I'd kissed her, very thoroughly, and she'd left for the clinic part of the house, when I suddenly noted that my aphasic little sex-kitten had spoken in a complete sentence, without any obscenities. I listened in amazement, as she answered the phone, made initial appointments, collected a couple of checks, handled plastic and did receptionist work. None of it demanding, but all requiring a good grasp of business and professional English.

I knew therapy didn't act that fast, so what the merry hell was going on?

I did note that, every few minutes, Jane jerked, and then sighed, and her back arched a little, pointing her tits out more.

Mostly, though, I dozed and rested, upstairs in the living quarters.

At about five in the afternoon, I got a call from Sharon, to come downstairs. Jane was just finishing up the basic bookkeeping, and I was still wondering how she was able to handle the language-aspect of her job, given the aphasia she had when not sexually stimulated.

Sharon laughed gently, and said, "Look, Tom, I take more of an engineer's viewpoint then a lot of my other speech people. This is not a 'high-touchy-feely' therapy need. I use what works, and to hell with the consequences. Our Plain Jane Park can speak, read, write, use a computer, do books and be a receptionist, as long as she's having sex, right?"

I nodded, 'yes'.

"So," she went on, "what she needed was to be kept at a 'low-simmer' of sex stimulation. So I just bought her one of those wireless vaginal and clitoris stimulators. Then I had a friend—you haven't met him, but he's good at electronics, and can lap pussy like a champ—make up a little controller. So Jane gets a little jolt to the clit and a buzz to the pussy, every few minutes. It's random, so she never quite knows how intense, how long or when the stimulation is coming from."

She pointed at Jane, who was just closing out the last of the daily books. Jane jumped a little, and then closed her eyes and rocked back and forth for a few seconds, and gasping a little. Then she relaxed, and, looking right at Sharon and me, grinned.

Sharon finished, saying, "There is a wireless transmission station at all four corners of the house, downstairs here, so she can be stimulated no matter where she is. So she has pretty good language, all day. Now, there are a couple of side-effects. We agreed to turn the stimulation off at five o'clock, every day, and she gets to take the little 'C-shaped thing out' and lay it aside. I get to wash and clean it, because of the second side-effect."

"Look, it's five o'clock. Here, Thomas Cattus, stud-fucker of helpless little Asian sex-kittens, is the other side-effect, which is her reward for constant sexual stimulation all day long."

Looking directly at us, Jane pulled up her short skirt, reached into her body, and pulled out a bright-red rubberized, c-shaped stimulator, and put it on her desk. Then, in two quick motions, she ripped off her skirt and flipped up and off her top. No bra or panties for this girl. Under her clothes was the black lace, armless-backless-crotchless-sheer-semi-transparent cat-suit.

With an inarticulate cry, my Jane Park literally launched herself over at me, and started tearing at my minimal clothing. Gasping, she pushed me over on my back, so that I fell to the floor, hard cock waving at the ceiling and jammed her lithe body onto said cock, ramming the entire thick 8½" penis deep into her pussy. Then she set up a ferocious rocking, twisting, thrusting dance, and proceeded to start cumming about every minute. Sharon rapidly stripped, and then began mauling Jane's pointed tits with her hot hands.

Over the squealing, snarling sounds that Jane was making, force-fucking my cock, Sharon giggled loudly, saying, "Because she's been stimulated all day long, she just has to have a lot of fucking and cum a lot, every working day. Ummmm, nice tits, I just love feeling out a hottie's tits. Do you love feeling out a hottie's tits, Tom. Mine are free, why don't you grab them and pull and twist, so I can cum and squirt all over you."

I don't know how long I lasted, while these two hotties worked on my body, hands, cock, and on my mind, but I finally shot load after load after load of jism into a hot female body. Opening my eyes, I saw that my partially hard cock was still buried ... inside Susan's pussy. When did that change take place?

Later that night, after the pressure-cooker dinner I prepared, I watched my two bi-sexual lovers pleasure each other, while begging me to help them into different positions, and finger them while they bumped pussy.

At night, before drifting off to sleep, I was sandwiched between the two women. Jane said, sleepily, "It is still hard ... to make the fuckin' right words ... I love you and your big cock ... when you go, I will miss you ... when you come back, I'll fuck you deep and hard ... you won't even have to damn all fuckin' ask."

Susan said, from the other side of us, "I'll keep on doing speech work with Jane. We'll be lovers, too. When you come back, I'll welcome you with my lips, and my arms and my pussy ... and my eyes, as I watch you fuck your Plain Jane Park."