Literotic asexstories – Call Me Vicki by coram,coram
In case you missed the clue, I’m a part-time party girl…
“Hooker”
Pay no attention to the interruptions. That’s Sly, my agent…
“Pimp”
Whatever. The guy that finds and vets clients for me and takes an inordinately large percentage of my earnings. He lacks class. Ignore him.
“Watch it!”
“I thought we had agreed on the terms,” I said. “Don’t forget, in real life I have a real job for a real law firm. You can at least fake some iota of respect.” He just grinned.
Anyway, as I was saying before the unwarranted interruptions, call me Vicki. That’ll do for now.
I thought you might be interested in listening to me reminisce, from time to time, about my more interesting clients. Full disclosure, though: I’ll leave out the embarrassing parts and just talk about the ones I enjoyed and would like to share with you.
A bit of background, first.
I met Sly when a few college friends and I went pub crawling in the Village. Without going into details, we did a few things with Sly and his buddies that could have gotten us into a lot of trouble. A few weeks later Sly confronted me with damning evidence and told me what his ‘fee’ for ‘losing’ the evidence would be. Some would call it blackmail. Well, in any case, the price was way beyond what I could afford and yet keep it secret. So Sly generously offered me the opportunity to work it off. I just had to service him and a few paying clients he found for me. Long story short, after a few weeks and some interesting adventures I found I was pretty good at this stuff and actually enjoyed the work. Sly, who at first mocked me as an uptight spoiled “princess”, reluctantly had developed respect for me, or at least for my talents. (He still calls me Princess, but the pejorative connotation is gone.) Eventually my debt was paid off, but then he casually asked if I might want to continue the partnership. Surprising both of us, I said yes. So, I keep my day job, but my nights are often fun, always interesting, and Sly and I have been doing quite well these last weeks. But I’m not about to quit my day job. Can’t do this forever, you know.
Anyway, one night a week or so ago, after a rather pleasant session, when the satisfied client had left and Sly and I were distributing our (my) earnings, Sly said, “Princess, I got something unusual for you, if you’re interested. The money’s real good.”
“When you ask me that way,” I said, “it usually means something I’m not gonna like.”
“Aww, Princess, have I ever pushed you into doing something you didn’t eventually enjoy? Look, you gotta be willing to explore if we’re ever gonna make big bucks.”
“I don’t need to make ‘big bucks’,” I said. “You do. I have a job. But okay, for laughs, what’s the job?”
“That’s my girl.” Sly said with a disgustingly ingratiating smile.
“First of all, this is an outcall job.”
“You mean I go to the client’s place? Right away I don’t like it. Too risky. Up to now you’ve always been here or at least in the next room. What if he’s some kind of nut? Why should I risk my cute little ass now?”
“You let me worry about your cute little ass. I’ve checked the guy out,” Sly assured me. “The setup sounds legit. And I made damn sure knows that if anything happens to you, I’m your insurance policy.” Sly managed to put a lot of menace in his voice. He’s a pretty big guy and has had a rough life. I guess I wouldn’t want to get on his bad side. So okay so far.
“Besides,” he added, “maybe it’s time we took the training wheels off.”
“All right. No promises, but I’m listening.”
“Okay. Seems that this guy married this gorgeous piece, but she won’t put out for him, at least not the way he wants her too. What he wants from you is a threesome where you work on the wife to distract her while he does her. Maybe too, you can show her how it’s done and how much fun it can be.”
“Sly,” I said, “This sounds weird. Besides, I’ve never made it with a woman. I don’t know if I want to start now. I like guys.”
“Yeah, I know. But you don’t know that you won’t like it, do you? I mean, you’ve tried a fair amount of new stuff since we’ve been together. Have you ever gotten burnt?”
“Nooo, I suppose not. Does he really think this will work? Sounds to me more like they need a therapist. But okay, anyway, I’m in. It’s his quarter. Tell me what I have to do. Oh, and before we go any further, tell me how much this is going to bring in. It’d better be good.”
He told me.
It was.
Two nights later, dressed demurely (on the outside, at least), I took a cab uptown to the address Sly had given me. It was quite a place. Gorgeous brownstone in the upper East sixties. Lots of brass, wood, and big windows. After a minute or two while they presumably scoped me out through the doorbell camera, the front door was opened by a very handsome guy in his mid-forties, dressed in an expensive silk robe. That, at least, was promising. He looked me over very carefully. I apparently passed muster because he smiled and invited me in.
We passed through a spectacular living room and into the bedroom. Along the way the man asked, “I assume you know why you’re here?”
“I’m told that you want me to help your wife get over her inhibitions. Am I correct?”
“Good,” he said. “I didn’t trust your pimp to get everything straight. Okay, let me introduce your subject.”
Well, “subject” is not what I would like to be called by my husband (if ever I have one), and God help him if he did, but it wasn’t my job to straighten my clients out on political correctness.
In the bedroom his wife was waiting, seated in a comfortable chair beside an enormous bed replete with pillows of various sizes. She looked very nervous. She stood up to greet me. I could immediately see why the guy married her. She was beautiful! The strange thing was that for the first time in my life I found myself appraising a woman not as competition, but as a man might. She had long, lustrous dark hair, gathered over her left shoulder, accentuating the swell of her breasts. She was wearing a diaphanous nightgown which only came down to her hips. She was naked below that. Her long legs ended in slippers with low heels that accentuated the curves of her calves. She had a very trim waist over wide, sensuous hips. Her breasts, unsupported by a bra, pushed delightfully against the fabric of her negligee, clinging to her nipples. They looked firm. I couldn’t help but imagine how they would feel in my hands. Jesus, I was getting hot! This was really weird.
The husband made the introductions, and then, with a “Let’s get started, shall we?” he proceeded to undress me. He moved slowly and sensuously, being careful not to get between me and the wife. I watched her eyes widen as he slid my blouse off and undid my bra from behind, letting it fall, dramatically revealing my breasts. Standing close behind me he cupped my breasts in his hands and tweaked my nipples into hardness. I let the wife see that I was enjoying it. (I was. No faking needed.) She stared at my breasts as if she’d never seen breasts before. He undid my skirt and let it drop around my feet. He began to stroke my pussy through my black nylon panties. His wife watched in utter fascination, listening as my breathing increased, watching the growing dark patch of moistness between my legs. God, if he didn’t stop soon, I was going to cum in front of everyone!
But he knew what he was doing. He smiled at his wife and led me over to the bed. I lay back, my head and back supported on some of the pillows. Under the watchful eye of his wife, he arranged my arms and my hair in an attractive way. Then he slipped off my panties and spread my legs. He cupped my pussy again. This time I couldn’t stifle a soft moan.
“Now, Irene, you try it,” he said. His wife, who up to now seemed frozen, started to pull back. He gently took her hand and led her over to the bed and put her hand on my pussy. It felt strange, having a woman touch me there, but her hand was warm, and the fact that it was trembling a little was quite pleasant.
“There, darling,” he said. “She’s yours to explore. Go ahead. Kiss her breasts. Put your mouth on her pussy and taste her.”
Gradually Irene seemed to be warming to the idea. I was anticipating a pretty good session, since I figured that if anyone would know the best spots on a woman it would be another woman. But then, as Irene fumbled at my vagina in a very tentative way, I remembered that it was actually men who had taught me more about my body than I had ever myself known. I’d had a couple of clients who had taken great pride in their ability to play my body like a fine violin. In the afterglow I had hated to take money from them. Sly, needless to say, had no such trouble.
So, I helped Irene a little. I guided her hand on my pussy, showing her how to massage it. I showed her fingers to my clit, and moaned when she squeezed it to let her know she was doing great. In fact, she actually was getting more and more confident in her moves. She climbed on the bed. Her husband took her head from behind and guided it to my pussy. She very tentatively began to lick me. Her tongue accidentally caressed my hardening clit and I involuntarily groaned and sighed. Her tongue slid into my wet vagina, tasting me. Her confidence growing by the second, she grasped my hips and lifted me into her face. She took my clit into her mouth and sucked on it and the world went away for a long time.
Through a very pleasant haze I heard the rustle of clothes as the husband undressed. One look at his distended cock let me know that he too had been enjoying the proceedings. That reminded me of why I was getting paid, though, and that I had better tend to my job and not lose myself in pleasant distraction.
I gently grasped Irene’s head and guided her up to my breasts. She affixed herself to my left nipple and sucked on it while I stroked her hair and moaned softly. That left her kneeling between my legs, her lovely ass provocatively lifted into the air. Hubby didn’t need a second invitation.
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