"And he goes in between her legs on all fours like some submissive lap-dog, his tongue hanging out, his dick hanging down. I mean, he's good at it. When it comes to lip-service he knows what to do, he has a well-educated tongue, I made sure of that early in our marriage. And you can tell she appreciates it. But what's even stranger is that she yacks on about business to me as she lies there with him giving her vigorous head...
"And I'm sucked in there by sexual gravitation, drawn inexorably beneath the arch of her thighs into that yawning singularity. Her cunt is flesh-pink and moist, a hungrily flexing tunnel in a nest of coarse curling black tentacles, a deliquescence of warm dissolving softness closing in around my tongue, tiny rippling muscles gripping. Memories blur beyond this point, coming at me in a storm of moist tongue-penetrations deep-sliding, her legs coming in around my shoulders, clamping me in there tight, her furred mound rasping like velcro on my chin. It's not true that all vaginas are alike. They're not. They each have distinct aromas. Different textures on your taste-buds, some richer, some sweeter, some with more, some with less moisture flooding out to greet the eager lap of your tongue, blending with the drool of your saliva. Some protect their secrets in tight grooves of crinkled flesh, others yawn and gape, overwhelming you, intoxicating you, drawing you deeper inside in voracious tides of slip-slithery coral-tinted fleshiness... Marietta is like that, awesome, like I'm drowning in her, lubricating that clit-bud with my tongue, slow, then faster, lick-lick-lickity-lick, my finger-tips teasing the glittering orifice beneath with gradual rhythmic insertions... until the first orgasm hits her, and it spreads to engulf me in quivering shock-waves that won't let go, pulse-squeezing around my trapped tongue, rip-tides gushing in my face, closer β more intimate, more a part of the intensity she's experiencing than even she is..."
"The sounds he's making, the slurpy-slurp noises, are a little distracting, but she contrives not to draw attention to it. Only the way she bites her lip, her altered breathing, the undulations of her stomach give her away. Until β as it subsides, it occurs to her that he's so good, and she's monopolising him, why don't I try some? Naturally I can't admit I've already been on the receiving end of that talented tongue. I feel odd, embarrassed, yet I can't deny the eerie eroticism is a turn-on. I hurriedly undress, take her place on the bed, he comes in to lick me, just as enthusiastically. While she goes into her shoulder-bag and produces this massive vibrator. 'They do so like to stick things into us, and it's so satisfying to return the favour' she smiles, lightly greasing it with her manicured finger. She moves round behind him and just... slides it in. All the way. He groans hot breath into my pussy as she impales him, but he doesn't pause. 'He likes it' she announces. 'Look at him, he's so hard he's nearly exploding. I've a suspicion he's had this done to him before, like he's been helping out at some boys-only parties.' And he was. I've seldom seen him so stiff, so red, so engorged. Bobbing and straining, swaying and quivering as she works that big vibrator in and out of his rectum, until he begins coming in great wild spurts across the duvet, and she laughs and applauds each pulse. Things just get crazier after that..."
"There's no actual genital penetration. Just oral. On my part. Until my tongue is rasped raw, my chin sticky-moist with vaginal juices, and the taste still there β catching at the back of my throat the following morning, the faint musky perfume still there as I wake. But oddly, while I'm doing it, it feels like it's not me. It's a role. A performance. That's what liberates me. But afterwards, when we get home, me and Sandie are both so sexed-up we have the best fuck we've ever had. It was amazing, for both of us..."
"And needless to say, Marietta is well-impressed. The result is she phones me later from Cologne. We'd failed to get the design contract. That's a bummer. But β oh, she's scheduled to return later that month as part of a delegation to liaise with other clients. And do I have the address of that 'male escort'? It doesn't take me long to work through the logistics of it. 'Oral Sex: For Fun & Profit'. I set it up. He agrees to do it. Naturally. Of course, I don't tell him there'll be four of them in the delegation! But word of mouth is a powerful thing. And recommendation soon brings in other requests for his 'services'. And soon I'm setting up a web-site, 'BONA ESCORTS', and we're now making more than I ever did from the design studio. I'm thinking of taking on more escorts. Providing they're capable of guaranteeing the satisfaction-level I've become used to from Julian. Stallions to a man, tall, dark, handsome, athletic, hung like the Gardens of Babylon, and so good in bed that any woman lucky enough to have sex with them would be well-advised to wear a crash-helmet when the time comes to get it on. Oh yes, and a tongue like a lizard. I'll be doing the auditions. And our marriage? that's stronger than ever..."
You see the problem here? Wonderful material. But β like, Huh, how do you deliver that on day-time TV, on 'The Jude & Ritchie Show'? Ritchie says "ExposΓ©? Human interest? They're just words. Just words."
Maybe. But I sit here now, sucking my biro slow and contemplatively. Replaying the interview tape second-by-second, voices coming through my ear-stud, yet again. Where do Julian and Sandie fit into the show's spectrum? Perhaps they don't. Meanwhile, I find myself penning the mobile number for 'BONA ESCORTS' on my post-it pad. Going over each number carefully, retracing each number over and over... my tongue slurping out from the side of my mouth, mmm, mmm, thinking thoughts I shouldn't be thinking... like I woke up one morning with the ability to speak fluent Cantonese.
BY TRISTAN TROTSKY