On the Prowl

Life is good. I have several women friends that fit my dick and at least one waiting in the wings. I am flush with pussy. Best of all, there were no threats from dates, boyfriends or husbands. I have a little sideline gig that gives me even more pussy and finds new pussy for me. Dara has a stable of friends and models that she rotates through her studio. I've met most of them but honestly, there're more women than one man can handle. I know many of them are getting it elsewhere so they don't use me to satisfy all their needs, thank God. Others are attached and get most of their lovin' from significant others. Me? I don't have a significant other. I just have one that I'm obsessed with but can only have her infrequently, Sam. Until then, it's pussy, pussy and more pussy.

The dives I hang out in are glad that I'm oversubscribed with safe pussy. I'm now a model citizen. There's no drama anymore when George is in the house. My dance card is full. Now, I'm actually a preferred customer. Gone are the bad ole days, in with the new, out with the old.

I just rolled into Sonny's after fucking four women for Dara. Fortunately I only had to cum once. My options are many. I could hook up with any of the women I've done that hang at Sonny's, I could call any number of friendlies or I could revert to my old form and try to take someone away from someone else. I win those about half the time. Those aren't bad odds considering the prize.

I'm running a little late tonight so I ordered a steak and fries. I'm pulling on a beer when a shadow falls over me. I tense and get ready to pop whoever it is when a woman's voice says, "May I join you?" What is this? Are women picking me up, now? The last time that happened I met Dara, Julie and Ann Marie. That was a good thing. What will this be?

"Sure, sit down. Should I order you dinner, a drink?" A very attractive woman, very well put together and turned out walks out from behind me into view as I make the offers.

"A drink would be nice, vodka martini, thanks." I signal Jody to take an order and turn my attention to my latest prospect. As she sits down I notice the jewelry, clothing and presentation before I realize she's probably ten years older than me, a very nice forty-year old woman, very nice, indeed.

"What brings you out on a night like this? More specifically, what brings you to my table?"

"Oh, I had an open evening and thought I'd check this place out. Some friends have been here and had a good time. I thought I'd try my luck."

"How lucky do you want to get?"

"Slow down, Tiger. We haven't even met, yet. I'm Elizabeth. My friends call me Becky."

"Nice to meet you, Becky. Is that all right, calling you Becky?"

"Sure it is. And, you are ....?"

"George. George Hayes. Ah, here we go, a vodka martini for Becky and dinner for me. This is a little awkward, me eating and you not. Should I send this back and we just talk?"

"Oh, no, George. You go right ahead and eat. I'll do most of the talking." Huh?

"I must say you look awfully familiar. Do I look familiar to you? Perhaps we went to school or worked together. Maybe it's a social group we both belong to? Whatever it is, I've seen you before."

"Well, I'm not from the area so running into each other going back a couple of years isn't likely. My social group consists of my friends and me. I don't go in for that organized and structured stuff. How about you? Do you?" I could care less about her interests. I'm trying to eat here and the longer I can keep her talking about herself the better chance I have of finishing my dinner.

"No. I can't say that I get involved in that stuff any more than I have to. Let me tell you a little about myself. Maybe that'll ring some bells. I own a store in the high-end mall across town. Perhaps you've heard of it, The Galleria? I sell clothing for professional women and evening wear, accessories and leather goods, too. It's pretty much a boutique (?) that sells knockoffs of couture (?) designs. What separates me from my competitors is the uniqueness of the goods and their quality. My customers can save 60% off couture prices and get something so close to the real thing that only an expert could tell the difference. In addition, I sell traditional pieces of much higher quality than is available elsewhere. The only way you could match it is if you had your clothes custom made."

"Not likely that we've met. Wait a minute. I deliver a lot of merchandise to stores around town. I'm familiar with The Galleria. I get out there a couple of times a week. Maybe that's the connection?"

"No. I know all my delivery people. You're not one of them. Say, you wouldn't be on television or anything like that, would you?"

"No. I don't think so. I'm not pretty enough. I think you just have me confused with someone else. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll get back to my dinner."

"No. That's all right. I don't mind." What does it take to get through to this woman? I could give a shit less about her store and mistaking me for someone else. Oh, Lady, please, please just go away. I've got serious business here, dinner and getting laid.

"I know, I've seen you on television or in a magazine! Right! Are you important or an entertainer?"

"Becky, I go out of my way to be unimportant. Every time I pop up on someone's radar bad things happen. I have the scars and bruises to prove it."

"How about the Internet? I use it all the time at work and home. Do you work in advertising? You know, like modeling?" Huh? I'm just going to sit here and let this run its course. I don't need my Dara connection found out!

"No."

"Well, now I'm sure of it. I've seen you on the Internet. I just can't remember where." She leans back sipping her martini while studying me and twirling her olive. She alternates between heavy concentration and coming out of it and giving me a smile showing perfect Hollywood teeth.

All of a sudden she stops and her eyes get wide while slowly putting her drink on the table. Shit. Here it comes. She murmurs something so quietly I can't make it out. It sounds like my name. "George. George. GEORGE! Oh, my God! You're Georgie Boy, aren't you? Oh, my God!"

This doesn't sound good. "Who's Georgie Boy?"

"Isn't that your stage or professional name, Georgie Boy? Don't deny it. I'm one of your biggest fans. You know what I like the most about you? It's the care and consideration you give your partners. Always, making sure they get off before you do. Always, showering them with affection, even when you're pounding the shit out of them. Oh, my God!

"Tell me, how much of that is real and how much is for the camera? I've always wondered how you guys in the business do that. I mean, most of my partners don't have a clue and are done before I even get there. You would think a woman my age would know how to find someone that knows about this stuff. Tell me, are you available for private sessions?"

"Are you a cop?"

"Hah, you've got to be kidding. Of course, not! Well, are you?"

"Am I what?"

"Available?"

"Listen, Becky. You must have me confused with someone else. I'm sorry I can't help you. But to answer your question, yes, I'm available, available to women I find attractive.

(Well, that's almost true. My dial-a-nurse, Tamara raked me over the coals. She's just a little older than this one here, not near as attractive but oh my, the woman can fuck. I had something to prove. She accused me of having a short fuse. You know, getting off too soon, before she got off. I had to show her that I was made of sterner stuff. After all, I had to defend the white race from stereotypes. It fucking near killed me to hold off cumming with all her wild shit. She was happy when we were done but claimed it could have been a fluke. Rematches continue to prove her wrong. She has become a very valued friend that always has good advice for me when I ask for it. I think she's taken me on as a project.)

"Do you find me attractive?" Here we go, a tried and true feminine trap! If I say 'Yes' she's going to want me to fuck her. If I say no I'm going to offend her. I guess I have to answer the bigger question first; do I want to fuck her? I don't know a whole lot about women a generation older than me. Tam is really my only experience and she could not be more different than this woman. I mean, they're in a different part of their lifecycle. Maybe their needs are different. Maybe their preferences are different. Maybe their strength and energy are different. I have to believe their skill levels are higher. Hmmm, that has possibilities. Tam certainly knows some shit. Maybe this woman can teach me a thing or two. I doubt it, but you never know.

"Yes, I'm very attracted to you. I'm also curious."

"Good, you should be. You've no idea what you'd be getting into with me."

Just exactly does that mean? At times like this I always consult my most trusted advisor, my dick. He says me that he's curious, too, and that there's only way to find out what she's talking about. 'Oh, yeah, go for it. I'm starting to feel the need for some strange stuff. Here, let me give you some encouragement.' I'm getting a hard on. I know what that means. When he's awake he leads, I follow.

"And, how would I find out?"

"We could spend some time here getting to know each other better. You know, dance and rub up against each other, getting ourselves all hot and bothered without being able to do anything about it, or we could cut to the chase and go somewhere where we could do as we please. Which one sounds best to you?"

This is one aggressive, confident chick. No games played here. Maybe that's the older woman's way. God knows Tam does as she pleases. I'll call and raise, "I think we should go where you feel most comfortable and we can fuck the night away."

She didn't hesitate. "Okay, let's finish our drinks. If we're going to spend the night together we should slow down a little. Let's spend a few minutes getting to know each other better. I might even tell you the secrets to my heart or, if you prefer, my pussy. I'll start. Do you like anal sex? You see I like my ass played with, and if we're going to be fucking each other I want you to know what my expectations are right up front. (My dick is telegraphing its eagerness to burrow into her bottom; my hard on firmed up at her expectations.) I'm being a little provocative on purpose. I'm not normally so but then, its not every day I meet a porn star. I'm trying to show you the sluts you fuck in those pictures have nothing over me. I like to think of myself as an experienced slut. A MILF, if you will." (For those of you out there that are clueless, a MILF is a 'Mommy I'd Like to Fuck."

"I'm up for that."

"I hope so."

I followed her home. She was chattering away like a Mad Hatter on her phone most of the way. Who the fuck did she have to talk to that was so important it couldn't wait at a time like this? We passed the guard shack as we drove into her neighborhood. She must have told the guard I was with her because he waived me through.

We pulled up to her house and into her garage. There were two other cars in there. Was she married? Oh, no. I'm falling out of practice fighting pissed-off husbands. Is this where this is leading?

She got out of her car as the garage door closed and waived me over to her as she opened a door into the house. We walked into the kitchen to find a bunch of women milling around with drinks. Their ages ranged from twenty-something to maybe fifty. (I didn't count them but came to find out later there were seven. The number fluctuated while I was there so it was seven, plus or minus.)

They were dressed in everything from sweats to business casual. All glowed with health and wellbeing that comes from living privileged lives. These were pampered women. When we walked in they all turned and cheered, "Georgie. Georgie. Georgie." It was more a chant than a cheer. What the fuck was going on here?

"You'll have to excuse me, Georgie for this excess. As we were driving here I called some friends to meets us. When I told them I had you, Georgie Boy the porn star in tow they couldn't wait to meet you.

"Georgia, why don't you get Georgie something to drink while I change. Ladies, I have delivered as promised." Huh? She bowed to their applause, turned and walked out of the kitchen. The women quickly surrounded me. They were either chattering among themselves or at me. Occasionally I would understand a question and try to answer it. Thankfully, Georgia delivered and I quickly began anesthetizing myself. Georgia kept me primed.

It wasn't long before they were putting their hands on me. One thing led to another and I had someone rubbing up against my back and another at my side. I was sinking into a well of sensory overload.

Next thing you know someone has her hand wrapped around my dick. 'Oh, yeah, that's what I'm talking about.' That's my dick egging me on.

Becky returned. I almost didn't recognize her. She's dressed in leather, head to foot. Her pants are skintight riding on her hips. She's got leather boots on with those platform soles and impossibly long heels. They lace up to her knees. She's got a leather vest that shows a lot of boobs. A lot. She's wearing gloves that go above her elbows and no fingers. It's all for looks and effect. Her hair has been brushed, combed out and pulled back into a tight ponytail tied off with leather lace. Her makeup is theater dramatic, with lots of extravagant color and shading. Kind of kinky but I can deal with that. What's that hanging off her belt? Is that a riding crop? What's that other thing? It looks like a stick. Huh? What the fuck?

"All right, Ladies. It's time to take Georgie to my gym." They gathered around me and pushed and pulled until I was moving in the direction of the hive that surrounded me. They weren't angry bees, more like excited bees.

We went down to a lower level that looked the size of a large apartment. Maybe that's what it was. Off to the side was a double door, the kind with the glass and muttons. Kind of like a French door but indoor. Becky marched up and dramatically swung them open. I can see a lot of mirrors and exercise equipment, and some stuff that doesn't look familiar although I can guess what they're for. Oh, shit. What've I got myself into this time?

"Mindy, you and Janice bind Georgie to St. Peter's Cross. We'll start with him right side up. Georgie, let's have a little cooperation here. We can do this one of two ways: easy or hard. Either way, you're going to be bound hand and foot to the cross. Smart boy. Georgia, check the bindings. I don't want him flopping around while we work him. I only want him hurt the way we've planned. Remember, no surprises." She only wants to hurt me the way they've planned? Oh, my God. I think I'm starting to loose my breath. I can't breathe. Help. Oh, God help me, pleeeeeeaaaassse.

"All right, Georgie let me tell you what this is all about. Georgia has a friend from the wrong side of town that likes to take her to biker bars. I guess you can only take so much of 'Show us your tits' before it wears thin. So, a week or so ago she puts her foot down and they go to Sonny's, instead. Not an upscale place by any means but at least no one's asking to see her tits. Too bad, because I can tell you they are beautiful. Beautiful. But you'll find that out soon enough.

"Anyway, guess who she sees at Sonny's, none other than one of our favorite porn stars, Georgie Boy? That's right, you. She found out you were a regular from the bartender, Harry. Know him? When she told me I got us all together and planned out this evening. We hope you'll enjoy it. There is a catch, or two. First, not all of us are strict heteros. Some of us like it both ways, and there are one or two that are gay. Your mission, should you accept it, and I really think you don't have much choice because the only way we're letting you out of here is after you've: 1) gotten each of us off, and 2) gotten yourself off with each of us. Unless you're superman, you're going to be here a while. You aren't are you?"

"Aren't what?"

"Superman, of course."

"No, I'm not superman. Not even close."

"Well, its up to you."

"First I thought we'd warm everyone up. Ladies, drop your drawers." Some shed all their clothes while others left bottoms or tops on. I'm guessing the lesbians were the ones with both bottoms and tops on. Becky ditched her vest and pants, after some trouble, and put her boots back on. She only had boots and gloves on. I gotta tell ya, she looked hot. Hell, they all looked hot. 'Oh, boy, oh, boy, oh, boy.' That's my dick talking, again. He's getting excited at all this pussy and ass and licking his chops. I've got a partial erection. "Look, Ladies. He likes what he sees. For myself, I like what I see. Before we start there's something I want to give you." She takes something out of her boot and shakes it out. For all the world it looks and sounds like a strip of Velcro. She comes up to me, real close so that my dick is poking into her pussy. If it wasn't for those boots I'd be poking her stomach. She reaches up and puts the strap around my neck. Then she kisses me on both cheeks making sure she's mashing her tits into my chest before backing away. "As long as you wear that torc you're my slave and will do as I command. Is that understood?" It was. "Look ladies, we've our very own Dying Gaul. Let us grant him his last wish, to be fucked to death!" A cheer went up. I didn't join in. Neither did my dick. Whatever life was left in him faded. I was a limp dick once more.

Then Becky put a blindfold on me, mashing her tits all the while. I gotta admit she's got some very nice tits. I especially like those large buttons she has for nipples and the pebbly areola around them. I could get off just loving them. Maybe later.

All of a sudden I feel something unfamiliar, like a piece of cloth folded over several times to give it weight rubbing on me. The hubbub quieted down. All I could hear were the occasional clinking of ice cubes as some of the women took pulls on their drinks. Meanwhile, the rubbing continues. After a while it's becoming soothing and slowly, oh, so slowly, erotic. My dick's starting to show up, again, more rubbing and then a pat or two, and then its back to the rubbing. "OW." What the fuck was that? Then more rubbing and patting, sonofabitch, there's some more of that stinging shit. Is someone hitting me? Right inside my thigh, awfully damn close to my little buddy, there it is, again! The Fuck?

Now it's being dragged over my balls, with a little rub there. Oh, God. Don't sting me there! Now it's slapping my dick from the side, up and down, up and down, slap, slap, slap. No pain to speak of, just a real funky way to jerk me. My dick likes it and is agreeing with Becky. I must be the biggest jerk alive. She's using that riding crop to fuck with me! Damn. I'm being beaten, again, by a fucking woman, no less!

Uh oh. She's rubbing and patting my stomach. Do I tense up or relax? Which way will hurt the least? I'm going with relax. OH FUCK! Wrong choice. Goddamn, that hurts. Fuck me. She's playing a Buddy Rich solo below my belly button. Uh oh, she's finishing her cover. There's a cymbal crash at the end. FUUUCK MEEE. Goddamn, that hurts big time. What the fuck's this? My dick is getting real hard and it's standing proud. Fuck. I hope she doesn't think I like this shit.

"All right, Ladies, now for the best part. Mindy and Janice, release the Gaul and turn him around. Bind him tight!" It's starting all over, again. First, the back. God, I hate this. Fucking pervert. Now she's going south. She's spending a lot of time there. Rubbing the crack of my ass, up and down. Up and down. Now, my balls. Oh fuck, no. Please don't hit me there. It feels good now but she can wipe that all away with one shot. Just one little short shot to jerk me, bitch. Now it's the ass. Oh, I know I'm going to pay this time. She's a fucking man-eater. Oh, my ass is singing. This doesn't feel good at all. Huh? Do I feel what I'm feeling? This is hot and hot. It's hot like it hurts, and hot like I'm getting aroused. This isn't too bad. I could almost get to like this, but not really.