Chapter 10
***
Humans are an extraordinary species in a myriad of ways, but one thing that stands out is our incredibly diverse range of attitudes, desires and preferences when it comes to sex. I'm not saying that monkeys, or camels or sparrows don't have a bit of fun in the sack (although it seems unlikely to me), it's just that sex for 99% of the animal world is, well, kind of 'vanilla', if you know what I mean. For most creatures there's an interminable amount of flirting and foreplay, following by a quick 'wham, bam, thank you m'am'. In some cases that's the end of it, for the rest of their lives! And in a worst-case scenario the female then eats her mate, which always struck me as rather drastic, especially for him. I'm all in favour of getting my rocks off but if I knew it was a literal 'once-in-a-lifetime' experience I'd probably be a bit more selective!
As it was, I was now entertaining about 20 different women over the course of an average month. Some weekly, some monthly and the occasional ad-hoc appointment (NB: this a technical term for "when my husband is out of town"!) What started as an intriguing, fun and care-free way of making a bit of extra cash had become a steady career.
Most of my ladies were quite lovely, and my 'magic hands' made it very easy to satisfy them. In some cases, I just gave them a straight Swedish Massage. Others liked me to use my fingers and hands to bring them to a satisfying happy ending. There was plenty of oral action and shagging of course, but it didn't bother me if they didn't want full-on sex. My attitude has always been 'whatever floats your boat.' I'm pretty easy-going.
But there were just a small number of clients whose demands were more complex. Amanda Clay was one of those.
I'd been seeing Mandy right from the start. She was married but her husband was something in sales so travelled extensively. He clearly made a small fortune. The house was a large detached Georgian affair set in several acres. Mandy herself was a lady of leisure or perhaps 'lady of pleasure' might have been more appropriate. I'd crossed paths with her gardener a couple of times, a mid-twenties, ripped and rather dashing young man. He'd be leaving just as arrived and he'd grin and nod as we passed on the drive. Given Mandy's flushed state when I entered the house, It seemed very unlikely that my massage was the first bit of 'personal treatment' she'd had that day!
For the first couple of weeks, I just gave her a Swedish massage. She squirmed and cooed under my hands like most women do and she clearly enjoyed it. But with hindsight she must have been testing the waters a bit. We chatted while I worked and she would describe her lifestyle. They were fortunate enough to have quite a few 'helpers' around the house, as she called them. There was the gardener of course, plus a cleaner, personal trainer, mobile hairdresser and chef. And it sounded like they were all youngish, and male. I guess I was being added to her cohort of personal servants (aka: harem perhaps? LOL)
"Your massages are wonderful," she said around the third or fourth week. "I've never experienced anything like it."
"Thank you," I replied meekly. "It's a pleasure to do it."
"Oh, that's certainly true!" she replied, winking. I blushed a little. Then she hesitated. "And do you offer anything else?"
I knew exactly where she was going, of course, but decided to tease her a little.
"Not sure what you mean?" I said, pausing for effect. "My gardening skills are pretty shite."
She stared at me, momentarily confused. I grinned and leaned a little closer, whispering. "Unless it's your lady garden that needs cultivating."
Her eyes sparkled. "I think we're going to get on just fine," she laughed.
I guess this was my first true experience of what you'd define as nymphomania. She was ravenous. Once the ice had been broken, every massage would end with a vigorous shag, often in several positions. She especially liked it doggy-style and would bend over the end of the massage couch, her pert little derriere ripe and inviting. She'd turn her head towards me and give me her big, watery come-on eyes. "Do whatever you want," she'd moan. So naturally I did, grabbing her hips and ploughing her cunt until I shot my load into her pussy or over her arse cheeks.
Occasionally she'd usher me out of the house after our session. "Need to get ready for my personal trainer," she"d say breathlessly. "He's due any minute." I doubted very much that he was booked for a short cardio session and some stretching exercises, although I guess that depends on which parts of her deliciously sexy body were being stretched. It amused me that the PT would probably be pounding a hole that I'd already stretched and filled 20 minutes ago. But then it occurred to me that maybe I'd also had sloppy seconds from one of her other 'helpers' earlier in the day. She's fucking insatiable, I thought with a wry smile.
We were mid-massage one afternoon, chatting as usual.
"Rick," she started hesitantly after a short pause. "I wonder if you'd like to explore a little?"
