Women Need Orgasms Too

This is my entry in the 2019 Halloween Contest, so please vote if you read it.

This tongue in cheek romance is about a young man with a unique talent to pleasure women, and the special woman he falls for, and who tests his talent in new ways.

I am sure a few typos snuck past my numerous proof readings, so let's just call those Trick or Treat for the neatniks out there.

Comments are really welcomed, as they help me refine my newly found writing compulsion.

=+=+=+=+=+=+=+=

"My name is David Tereyll, and I am an addict."

"That is a joke...maybe."

"I am addicted to women's faces...when they orgasm."

"And I can make women orgasm, typically multiple times...before intercourse."

"How, you may ask, did I get this proficient?"

"The punch line is practice, practice...Practice."

"Plus my mother."

"Okay, stop right there! My mother and I never had intercourse...a lot else, yes, but not that. Mom was still a bit conservative on that one issue. You are, of course, curious. Since I am being open with you, here is the simple truth."

"Mom is a prostitute. But please, think of her better, as she is really a talented, sophisticated, intelligent, sensual, and quite beautiful escort. And she taught me, after I graduated High School, nearly everything she knows about how to please a woman. Most of it was firsthand knowledge, so to speak. Some of her best customers are women, so mom has a broad base of knowledge."

"It also helps that, and I am trying to be modest here, women often tell me that I am handsome, gorgeous, a hunk, delectable, luscious, and...well, other such superlatives that conjure up images of a drooling women's lips pronouncing. I got my looks from my mom, of course, and my dad...whoever he is, as that goes back to a time before mom was a pro. She was just a slut then, but it put her on the path for a highly successful career, and produced a decent trust fund for me."

"So, did I follow in her footsteps? Maybe at the amateur level, but I actually wanted to an engineer. Civil engineer, specifically, which is how I got the job at Jacobsen-Snyder Construction. I hope I still have that job tomorrow, given the sated look of Mrs. Snyder an hour ago, after she had dragged me into her bedroom. With any luck, she will be discreet, and her screams will not have carried that far."

"Really, with her Halloween costume, I had no idea who she was, other than probably an attractive woman under that Minnie Mouse outfit, and one who was begging me to "give her the works." It was only when we were done that she told me who she was. Maybe if she had taken her off her mask, I could have stopped her. Though, with that look in her eyes and the growl in her voice, maybe not."

"Or, the whole situation could have been avoided if Mrs. Snyder had not been told by Jeanine, from the mailroom, what I did to her...well, for her...after she dragged me off the moment I walked in the door tonight. Frankly, I think Jeanine was waiting in ambush for me."

"She was," her lovely voice acknowledged, "she told me. That, and more. Go on, please."

"Sorry, I digressed into the present issue."

She said politely, "Quite an understandable concern, I would say, your job."

"So, only child that I am, and somewhat shy as I was, high school was so-so. I wouldn't talk about my parents, for the obvious reasons. Mom encouraged me to bring girls home for my entertainment, or their's, depending on your point of view."

"However, mom's client schedule was always in flux. Therefore, I didn't want to be explaining to my date, whom it was that was making the loud noises in the next room, especially since a good number of mom's clients were fathers of girls at my school, plus a few mothers. Mom really mined those PTA meetings for new clients."

"Thus the sporadic dates that I had, usually finished at drive-ins, the dark corners of mall parking lots, in her parent's pool house, and once in, yes, the cemetery. The Howard mausoleum was quite roomy. But not, yet, having mom's guidance, I was only a 'Part A goes in Part B, and repeat' kind of guy. I was the big notch in a lot of girls' bed posts, but not often a repeat date."

"Then, off to college I go, armed with mom's ammunition, to be 'God's Gift To Women', except I really do not know how to approach women. Give me one minute with them naked, and they are eating out of my hand...or eating...well, you know."

With a smirk and a rising inflection, she said, "I do."

"So, initially, I am a book worm, nerd, study hog, or whatever, pumping out 'A' grades. Then along comes Sheila Frederick. She has the hots for me, blinders for anyone else, and the patience of a gnat. I was only able to put her off until the following Friday. My roommate was gone for that weekend."

"It was the first outing for David the Giant Killer, with his mom-trained skills. I still had more to learn, in my mind. In Sheila's mind, I think I was her god, for that is just about all she said for the day and half she was in my bed. She tried to keep tabs on the number of orgasms, but lost track at 19. And my floor RA brought me 8 complaints for noise. Really, on a Friday & Saturday? Some of those guys were certainly serious students."

"Now, Sheila could have just been a fun weekend, as she had a really nice...never mind...and then I could go back to studying. But she goes back and alerts her whole Alpha Phi sorority. The next Monday, I have an A-Phi girl on each arm and several trailing behind, as I go from class to class. They are all craving my attention, and pleading that I come to their party on Friday."

"That was not hard to agree to. Even after I had agreed, I had at least two A-Phi escorts to every class, and some of those girls really wanted to give me a view of their...assets. It is not an understatement to say that I was stunned when I found out the party was 23 nude girls, and just me, for the entertainment. I think I got through 5 on Friday, 10 on Saturday, and the final 8 on Sunday, while I fended off repeat customers, except Sheila."

She calmly asked, "And that was the start...of your 'addiction'?"

"They were the first 23 faces in my mental collection. There was Sheila's 19+ orgasms that first time, and at least an average of 4 per A-Phi girl over the following weekend, so I was already at a count of 110+ memories of those faces at the peak of their pleasure, and in less than 10 days."

"Then the word really got around. I certainly had to struggle to find time to study. Every sorority had a 'David' night or weekend, and David had ever sorority. The goody-goody sorority usually did a toga party, and the other sororities generally were simply bikini, topless, or just naked parties. Whole weekends were lost between girls legs, and my 'collection' grew by leaps and bounds."

"There were some girls on campus that ran away when the just saw me. I was informed they were virgins. Too bad, I could have put any of them 'into orbit', and they still would have been virgins when I was done. There was one virgin, Cindy, who didn't run, and she finally called it 'quits' after 9 explosions, which is what they were for that cute blonde."

"I had a lot of repeat requests, but I had so many new options, that I went with 'new' to bulk up the collection. Some of those were local mothers of the girls that got wind of my skills. The mothers were probably the most physically tiring, as they had so much pent up sexual energy, they never wanted to stop."

"I have no idea what the final count was when I graduated, but I got an all-female standing ovation at the diploma ceremony. Some of the girls looked oddly at their mothers, when their moms were standing, applauding, and even whistling. I made sure not to meet any eyes."

"Smart," she said.

"However, post-college life has been quite different. I moved to take this job, and I had no reputation when I got here. As much as I missed the new faces of pleasured women, I was actually enjoying having some free time. And I found that I had had woman chasing me for so long at school, that I had never developed the skills just to walk up to woman, cold, so to speak, and strike up a conversation."

"So, now, I was pursued by Lilly, in accounting, and she has apparently been spreading the word, to an unknown degree. Jeanine seems to be the first, but I have noticed some very odd women's smiles in the office recently, and some are married, so I am expecting to be pursued soon. I am just not sure I want to get back into that life, again."

"But I have never had any real 'relationships', so I might be referred to as a 'dating virgin', and don't really understand what it would be like to tie my life to one woman."

"I came to this party to try to actually 'meet' women, but that may not be possible much longer the way the 'native drums' seem to 'beating' among the women. Except you."

She said, with a nice smile, "Yes, except me. Your tall, court jester might be in high demand, quite soon."

"So, here I am at this party, two women more in my collection tonight, so far, and I see you with Jeanine, Missy, and Camille. Jeanine was doing her animated narration, and Missy and Camille kept looking my way with coy smiles."

She chuckled, "And you did a good job of fending off Missy's and Camille's determined advances. You even turned down their offer of a threesome. Such control! And am I to believe that was all just so you could meet me, David?"

"Strange, but true," I said, with a big smile, "So, I approach this really petite French maid, with the wickedly luscious, long, wavy coppered-colored hair, and delightful freckles trickling out from under her mask, and then I see those mesmerizing green eyes, and I know I made the right choice."

"Seems your skills at approaching a woman are improving, rapidly," she replies, with a single blink of those green eyes.

"I gave her my best greeting line, hoping to draw her into my web." I smirked.

"If that line you used was your best, then you do need to work on your approach. I gave you a pass on that one, because what Jeanine had said certainly had my curiosity, as to who would be behind this 'Stud-of-the-Century' appellation," she said, a bit coolly, "and that 'draw her into my web'? Dump that, too."

"Okay, noted," I continued, a bit cautiously, "Well, I found this maid extremely appealing, but oddly, even to me, I wasn't visualizing her face as if I was pleasuring her. It was something unknown to me; a desire to just see her smile, to want to see her eyes simply see me, and to hope she would let me stay in her company to know more of how her face expressed regular conversation."

"Oddly sincere emotions," she said, "but effectively appealing."

"Then..." I started to say.

"THEN," she interrupted, "This little maid rocks you back on your heels, by challenging you to tell me the whole story behind this 'stud' notoriety and your interest in me. Nothing held back, or you would be history! If you were fearful, you did not show it, and you were very clever and humorous in your response."

"Whew!" I exclaimed.

"I would think so," she said, "and you are probably thankful that we are in a private corner.

"Yes! And now, can I have some name to call you by?" was my anxious question.

"Since I am in uniform, let's try 'Yvette'," she replied.

"Then, the $64,000 dollar question, as my mom would say," and I swallowed, "Is, what is the lovely Yvette's thoughts about what my answer contained?"

"Yvette is thinking. Please give her a moment,"

"First of all," Yvette started, "You are quite attractive. Maybe a bit too pretty, but that is not a real issue. While your history since high school seems to have stunted your broader social education, surprisingly, I do not detect an inflated ego, and can, almost, admire your dedication to women's pleasure, and the skill you apparently possess. I cannot deny the appeal of experiencing your skills."

"The 'however' is," Yvette continued, "It makes me wonder how you are at accepting pleasure, and I am not talking about an ambitious blow job, but actually being able to submit to the tender attentions of a woman, privately. Your motivation is one area of caution, as well. While your actions are neither shallow, nor solely self-serving, it still makes me curious as to where this benevolent passion will lead. It also makes me wonder on your perspective on a 'sharing' relationship."

"That's some heavy sh ...stuff," I said.

"Indeed," Yvette said, "but your 'extensive' sexual activities are not something a young woman, such as myself, can simply set aside, only to focus on a genuine smile, intense eyes, and a resonant voice."

"I have those?" I asked, happily.

"Ah...more ego than I had detected; vanity be thy name...but not more than I can accept," Yvette said, with a charming chuckle.

I had to laugh, briefly, at that chuckle, combined with the subtle humor. Plus there was my nervous thrill of hope, when she said 'accept' at the end.

"Add a hearty laugh to the list of pleasant surprises from this complex man. Now, as you have been so busy tonight with your efforts as 'God's Gift to Women', which makes a good acronym of 'GGTW', have you had any time to get a drink?"

"Not yet" I smiled awkwardly, while I mentally winced at her reminding me of my prior GGTW activities with other women this evening. The contrast is that I delighted at her mentioning drinks, as it implied I would be in her company a bit longer.

"Then let the tall jester part the masses for his dainty maid companion," she said, with a lilting charm."

I was enchanted in the way she spoke, and quickly responded to her request, leading her through the crowded rooms, to the dining room where the drinks were set out. "What is your choice, Yvette?" I asked.

"The Smirnoff Ice Green Apple, please," she said, with her usual wisp of formality.

I chose the Fat Tire Ale, removed the caps of both, and handed her chosen drink to her.

I almost choked on that first swallow of Fat Tire, when Mrs. Snyder stepped up next to Yvette.

"Shay, honey, I didn't see you come in!" Mrs. Snyder chimed.

"Hi Mom! No problem. I understand how caught up you can get attending your guests." Yvette (Shay?) smirked.

Now I really did choke. I grabbed a cocktail napkin and covered my mouth as I looked to see two pairs of masked, mischievous eyes, above enigmatic smiles, focused on me. Too late to sink under the table!

"Shannon!" Mrs. Snider chirped, "What have you been doing with this talented young man? Have you given him

the

tour

of the house, yet?

Frozen as I was, I still noted the odd inflection Mrs. Snyder used for the word "

the tour

".

"No, mom" Yvette/Shay/Shannon, said, "I have not followed that family tradition, as of yet. We have been involved in quite a prodigious discussion. I think you would find it exceptionally interesting, if you have not yet conversed with him, already!"

"David, do not let Shannon intimidate you with her Harvard education," Mrs. Snyder chuckled, "And no, honey, we were only able to exchange a few words earlier, as there was just so much going on!"

"Why, David!" Yvette, et al, smirked, "What has embarrassed you so?"

I swallowed a couple times, cleared my throat, and rather squeakily replied, "My remembrance of your mother's warm greeting, just came back to me!"

"Well, Mrs. Snyder said, "I need to mingle with my other guests. You two have fun, and Shay, make sure you give him the

full tour

, as he is

quite

an appreciative guest."

Mrs. Snyder walked away wearing her socially perfect smile. And I was suddenly trying to erase the memories of Yvette/Shannon's mother in the throes of ecstasy. It didn't work.

I looked at the restrained smirk on Yvette's face, and croaked, "Your Mother?!"

"I think we can say your job is safe, David," and a big grin spread on her face.

"Shit!" I whispered.

"I would say that word is incorrect, given the situation you just survived. However, it is an understandable utterance, given your relief," Yvette smirked.

"Harvard, huh?" I muttered.

"Shit, yeah!" Yvette said, with a silly grin.

"So, Yvette...?? I asked.

"Shannon Beersdale," she said, "most call me 'Shay'. And yes, I have heard all the alcohol-related jokes. The answer to your curious expression is that Samuel Snyder is mother's second husband. My father died 'in congress' with mother, which may not be a surprise, to you."

"Talk about having my world turned upside down!" I exclaimed.

"How about we go sit on the back porch and we let you catch your breath?!" Shay chortled.

"Lead on," I said cheerfully, though I felt like I was in a fog.

We went through the family room, but before I got out the porch doors, a slurring Little Bo Peep, grabbed my arm. She was clearly past her 'innocent' years. "Davthid, can woo, Please, spare a flew minutes, flor a private conversthation!?"

As I peeled her challenging grip off my arm, I said, "Sorry, I think I have already found all the company that I desire this evening."

"You shure, Davthid?" she said, as she started to lift the center of her long dress, "Cuz, I hath zum wool that would Really thlike to meet thyou!"

I quickly stopped her hand/dress before it reached the point of no return, memory wise. "Thanks" I said, "but I don't need a 'Bo Peep' at your wool to know I am already with the right woman."

My clever idiom was lost on her sloshing mind, and as she wandered away, I could hear her say, "ThWhy me!? I thought every manth wanted Bo Peep's assth!"

Shay smiled cheerfully, "Appears your fame is reaching new heights."

"I think that may be new lows," I grumbled, "Now, is this antiquated porch swing apparatus worthy of having this maid's posterior addressing it?"

"Don't try to out-Harvard me," she laughed sharply.

Her laugh resonated through me, and clung to my mind as something that needed to be heard, long, and often. The realization of how it had affected me, drew me into a long pause that I was unaware of.

"Come back soon," she politely prodded, as she sat down.

"Uh...sorry," I replied, "just lost in thought for a moment," as I sat to the left of her, with a few inches between us.

"Would that be more of your bawdy story to tell?" she teased.

"Far from it," I said.

"How far?" she replied, and I recognized both the playful retort, and the gentle, prodding intent.

Why I was nervous, I was not quite sure, but I knew this was a moment for me to establish my interest. "About as far away as you are."

I actually seemed to have caught her off guard with that remark. Her answer thrilled me.

She slid over, eliminating the space between us, and put her hand on top of mine, as I had mine on top of my jester-covered legs, palm down, to absorb the clamminess.

"Not far at all, now, is it?" Shay said, as she started to rock us in the swing.

Feeling high-school shy all over again, as her hip and leg touched mine, I reached for an easy response, "Couldn't get any closer."

"Oh, I think you know we could," she said, with that lilt she had down perfectly, and she wrapped her fingers around mine.

I just looked at my hand, somehow stunned at seeing that small hand on top of mine, and to watch those lovely red painted nails disappear under my fingers, though her small hands couldn't get too far under.

How could I feel like this? I had savored the ultimate intimacy with hundreds of females, in their naked glory, including her mother this very evening. And Shay had intimated that I would get the same "Tour". Why would I tremble at the simple touch of her hand, while I was fully clothed, and with an array of kings, prisoners, ghouls, Bo Peep's, et al, just on the other side of the window, over our shoulders?

"Am I losing you, again?" she queried, cheerfully.