It's What You Wanted Isn't It?

Chapter 1

Have you done much speed dating? It's dumb really. But at least you get to meet women who want to meet men. That's something isn't it? I presumed that at least some of them would want what I wanted, but this turned out a bit tricky.

When Sheila left me, she said it was because 'All you want is sex!'. I ask you. What did she think a man wants from a woman? Why are we made differently? To be honest, Sheila wasn't the only one, just the last in a relatively long line of women who'd walked out on me. Some were open about the reason, others made lame excuses. But I bet it was the same for all of them. 'All you want me for is sex.' Er, that would be 'Yes!'

Sure I want sex. Lots of it. All the time. It's how I'm made. I don't hide it.

So anyway, these experiences had made me wary. No more chasing after time wasters. When I went speed dating, I had my spiel all ready. A couple of minutes of small talk then, if I fancied her, straight to the point:-

"D'you like sex?"

You'd be amazed what happens when you come right out with it. Some of them actually blush. I didn't get my face slapped but I'm sure I would have in a different environment. You'd think it was a crime asking a woman whether she likes sex. As though I was about to rape her, or something.

Exactly the opposite is the case. I couldn't rape a woman if I wanted to, which, of course, I don't. I'm just looking for a female who likes sex. Like any guy. What's so damn odd about that?

Once I ran into a woman who didn't react as though she was confronted by a rank pervert.

"Sure," she said. "Who doesn't?"

I thought I'd finally struck oil, until she continued,

"But not with you, you bastard!"

Hey! That's not fair. I'm not a bastard. I'm a nice guy. Honest. I do know how to treat a woman, and sex for me is not a one-way street. If she's not into it, I'm not into it. That's why I ask. I'm not interested in women who aren't 'into it', who regard sex as some kind of bargaining tool. 'You get laid if I get....' whatever they want, about which they're rarely explicit.

There's a speed dating venue close to where I work. They have sessions most evenings and I attend them all. I keep expecting to hear 'A complaint has been made...', or words to that effect, but never did. Maybe women are simply too embarrassed to relate what I'd said. Whatever, the organizers, only too willing to take my money, probably ignore complaints. I just wish they'd find some women who want what I want. They must be out there.

I know what you're thinking. 'The only place you're likely to find the woman you're looking for is in a bar.' Right? Well you'd be wrong. I should know. There's a bar on the corner of the block, right next to the speed dating venue. I'm there most nights. So I know, see.

Women in bars fall into three categories. One sits down, orders her drink, gets out her cell and starts yattering. You can wait for her to stop until they erect an Eifel Tower in Paris, Texas! Two is looking for a shoulder to cry on. Oh, there's plenty of those, and possibly one or two 'ripe for the picking', if you get my meaning. But that's not me. I'm not a predator out to take advantage of a woman who's emotionally upset. I'm not a predator at all. I just would like to meet a woman who wants what I do -- sex. No complications, just sex.

If you're wondering about type three, those would be looking for a quick quid pro quo, and that is something I'm not into. Is a woman who does sex for money in it because she likes sex, or wants money? Even if both, it's another example of that damn trade off. You get sex if I get....? The only ending to that sentence I'm interested in is 'sex', period!

I'd almost given up when I ran into Angela.

Chapter 2

I spotted her right away. Tall, slender, long legs under a loose skirt, bare ankles, high-heeled shoes. There's usually one catches my eye. But Angela was an eye-catcher par excellence. It was not only her appearance but the way she moved, not flirtatious, but with a sense of assurance, no attempt to mask her femininity. Quite different from most women who attend speed dating sessions. They're either nervous and show it, or are nervous and overcompensate by being 'busy'.

Well, to cut to the chase, I didn't bother using my line on any of the others. Just bided my time until I got my five minutes with Angela. I must have been nervous myself because the encounter went something like this.

"Hi!" Smile.

"Hi!" Smile

Awkward silence.

"Do you like sex?"

I mean, I usually hold it back until around the four minute mark. So the frosty silence that follows doesn't last too long. Maybe I had a premonition that Angela would be different. Well, I'll credit myself with that, even if it isn't true.

A faint smile crossed her features. She did not reply, just looked at me, not aggressive, staring, shocked, or anything like that. She just looked me straight in the eye. Ok. I'll admit it. That made me nervous.

The silence went on. It became clear she was not going to break it.

"Er... Are you going to say something? Or are we done?" I said, eventually.

"I'm waiting for your next line," she responded, evenly.

Cheez!

"Er.. Well. Ok! It's this. I'm not much into speed-dating stuff....Y'know, marking cards, an' all."

I waited to see whether she would respond. She did not. Just kept looking me in the eye, expectantly.

"So, well, if you're interested, I'll be in the bar on the corner after the session. It's quite nice. They have booths. We can talk there.... If you're interested."

I suppose by now my nervousness was palpable. She was so calm. It was as if every guy she'd met asked her whether she liked sex. After a brief pause, she said,

"What's your name?"

"It's ...er .... it's on the card."

"I thought you're not into cards, an' all?" she said, mocking me playfully with my own words.

"I mean your real name," she continued.

"Er... Ron," I stammered. The card said 'James'.

"Well, Ron," the woman turned Goddess opposite me said,

"Are you good at sex?"

"Er.. Well, Yes! I suppose so."

"Suppose so?" Angela repeated. "That's not encouraging."

I found my cojones.

"Ok. Yes. I'm damn good."

"For me, or for you?"

"For both of us."

Brief pause.

"D'you mind if the woman takes the lead?"

"Not at all!" I said, hastily. Then, looking around,

"Maybe we could discuss this in the bar? More private."

"But you started it, Ron," she continued, making no attempt to lower her voice. "Why not here? Are you embarrassed?"

"Er... No!" I lied.

"So if a woman asks you to do things for her, things she likes, things that turn her on, that'd be ok with you?"

"Hell, Yes!" I replied. "Whatever. Give and take, that's the name of the game."

Her look turned a shade quizzical then. I held gaze. It wasn't easy. Blonde hair, blue eyes, penetrating. She was truly gorgeous.

I'm not short on the looks side myself. And that's not bravado, or immodest. I've never had a problem getting dates. At college I had to fend them off. In the office, too, I could have any woman I want. They all make their 'availability' clear. But I know that scenario all too well. They'll do sex all right, but only for a while. Then out comes the quid pro quo, and pretty soon that's all that's left. I tell them the honest truth.

'But I'm not looking for a relationship. What's wrong with just having sex?'

If they'd believe it and act on it, that would be one thing. But they don't, and there's one thing I can't stand is a woman crying. I'm a sucker for this. When it comes to it, I just can't manage to 'dump' a woman. So the damn thing drags on and on and on until she finally gets the message and dumps me. A week's 'not even very good' sex followed by three months of emotional torment. No thanks. Been there, done that -- all too often.

"So, to be clear, Ron," Angela was saying. "You're here looking for a sex partner. Not a relationship, just sex."

"Yes!" I replied. "And don't get me wrong. I'm not talking about a one-night stand."

"I bet you'd take one, though," she said, seductively, "if it was on offer."

The question threw me, I'll admit. But, hey, when you can be honest with a woman, be honest. That's what I think.

"Erm ... Well, Yes! I suppose I would," I managed.

"D'you like sex with two women, Ron?" Angela continued. "Or many?"

"Erm... I've not tried that, actually. But sure, I'm game for anything."

A sudden thought.

"But not with other guys," I added hastily. "I'm sure I wouldn't like that."

She did not react to this, either way.

Time was running out.

"So, do we meet in the bar?" I asked. "On the corner. Out of here, turn left. 'Joe's place', they call it."

She seemed to consider.

"Who knows?" she replied, airily, as the buzzer went.

You'll believe that the remainder of the session was a blur. I have no idea how I got through it, thinking only of her. One thing's for sure. I did not ask any other woman whether she 'liked sex'. Hell, what if one of them said 'Yes!'.

Finally, the session ended. I looked around anxiously but did not see her in the crowd.

I waited for her in Joe's. The entire evening, trying desperately to stay sober.

I failed, but it didn't matter.

She did not show.

Chapter 3

When I said I was at 'Joe's place' most nights', I wasn't lying. It was conveniently located close to my apartment. I could get tanked and not wonder how I was going to get home. Now I'd met my dream girl, I was for sure going to be there, every night. Until. Until when?

As it turned out, until the following Friday. The bar was almost full, but the stool next to me was free because I'd just brushed off a hooker. Onto this now slid the slight figure of a young girl. Woman, girl, where d'you draw the line? The bartender thought girl, because he asked for ID. So, ok. Legal to drink. Legal to ...!

Hey! I'm not a predator, honest. But when a guy is sitting at a bar and a girl slides onto the next stool, he's curious, right? So, Yes! The odd glance. At first, the girl did not seem to notice. She did not take out a cell phone. She did not seem disturbed, and she did not have the look of a hooker. (Though who can tell these days?) She did look quite nice, though.

I worked through the catalogue, seeking an appropriate line. The direct approach, as it were, was blocked because of the crowd. Hey, I don't mind getting my face slapped when it's only Joe and a couple of guys watching. But in a crowded bar, that's different.

As it turned out, I needn't have bothered working on a line because, after a while, the girl turned to me and said,

"Are you Ron?"

"Yes!" I replied. "How did you know that?"

"I'm good at guessing," the girl said, looking at me full face.

A fresh face, no make-up. Bare arms, a top through which nipples were strongly suggested. Small tits, no bra? She wore jeans, tight.

My eye was still affixed on the nipples when she said, quietly, but firmly enough,

"You like sex, then?"

An inner voice warned 'hooker', but it didn't quite figure. Caution, though. That was my line, after all. Where had she got that from?

"Sure," I replied. "Who doesn't?"

"So drink up," said the girl, draining whatever concoction Joe had served her and looking at me expectantly.

I hesitated.

"What's the matter? Cold feet?"

"No! It's just...?"

"Just what?"

"Well ...?"

"OK. So I'm leaving. You follow, or you don't. Your choice."

She slid off the stool and began to fight the crowd.

I can't help it. I like slim women, even if they are a tad on the skinny side. Quickly, I drained my glass, and followed.

Outside, the girl had hailed a cab, which was drawing up.

"Hey!" she said as I appeared at her side, "Great."

In the cab, feeling uncomfortable and still not sure, I began,

"D'you mind if I ask...."

"Mandy," she replied.

"So...er...?"

"What, er?"

"Er...Don't take this the wrong way, but are you... are you ... er...?"

"Hey! Is that what I look like?"

"No! No!" I said, hastily and entirely honestly.

"So why me?" I ventured, after a somewhat awkward silence.

She turned to me then, that youthful face, full lips.

"You look like a good fuck," she said, calmly.

O-kay!

Mandy did not encourage conversation and I couldn't think of anything to say. 'Where're we going?' seemed just too lame.

"I don't talk much," Mandy said, eventually.

"That's ok."

Of course, I was examining her body as discretely as I could. And liking what I was seeing. She leaned forward for an instant and I got a quick look down her top. Neat tits, and Yes! Nipples nice and stiff. Her hips were quite wide, pressing against the cloth of her jeans. I recalled once meeting a model. She was skinny, too. I'd heard somewhere that the camera added pounds. Just a fleeting thought. You know, the way they cross your mind when you're in the back of a cab with a girl who looks like she could be a model and has just told you that you 'look like a good fuck'!

The cab drew up outside an apartment complex. I was ready. Overtipped, naturally. Not that Mandy noticed. She was halfway down the path before I was out of the cab. I hastened after her.

She held the door. I entered. In the elevator, Mandy made the first move that was overtly sexual. She grabbed my balls.

"Hope you've got something in there," she said, squeezing hard and pressing those stiff nipples into my chest.

"May be a bit rusty," I recall saying.

She looked up at me and it was then that I recognized the sensuality in her eyes.

"We'll work it out," she said.

I'd assumed she'd meant 'we two' so it was quite a surprise when the door opened to her knock revealing the utterly naked body of a second young woman, who looked me up and down even faster than I could reciprocate.

"Hey, not bad," said this apparition, as my eye gravitated past her pert breasts to a pubis that gleamed in the dim light.

"Hope you're in form," she continued. "We're all aching for it."

All!?

They were five. Clones in body, the only attribute that varied was hair color. Two blondes, two brunettes and one redhead.

This is about all my eye took in as I was led by my shirt sleeves into an adjacent room, my clothes were stripped off and I was propelled backwards onto a bed. I was so taken aback it was some time before I decided I must have died and gone to heaven.

One girl, a brunette, had laid her head on my stomach and drawn my half erect cock into her mouth. Another sucked my balls in and out of hers. A third straddled me and Oohed! and Aahed! as my tongue explored moist pussy lips, the fourth and fifth squatted on either side, directing my fingers, first one, then two, into vaginas that quivered in anticipation.

Which was Mandy, and what the others called themselves, I cared not. Five young, nubile girls? You'll understand why I thought it was a dream.

I was not too busy exploring cunt with my tongue and lips to register that the mouth on my cock had been replaced by a vagina, which engaged my cock to the hilt, then moved up and down, first quarter cock, then half, then three quarters, with regularity. Dimly, my eye picked out the breasts of the girl who rode me, her rib-cage standing out as she drove down, then up, then down again with ever increasing force, pressing my groin into the mattress, then releasing, all the while, my balls held firmly behind closed lips, tongued, sucked, at once pampered and tortured.

The vagina was tight, but liquid. It slid up and down my cock almost without stimulation. But only almost.

A frenzied pounding of my groin and a muted 'Aarrrgghhh!' presaged a sudden release, followed by the engulfing of my cock in a second vagina, if anything even wetter than the first. Action resumed. A fresh cunt appeared above my face, and pressed down into it so I could scarcely breathe.

"Ugh! Ah! Shit! ....Aaaarrrrgggghhhhh!"

Again a shift. One by one, the girls slated their desire on a cock that, though not 'in practice', as it were, nevertheless held firm.

Then they began again. This time, though, the pace was steadier. Someone stuffed a pillow under my head so I could see the upper body of the girl whose cunt slid up and down my cock. Sinews strained, nipples taut, she'd raise herself up, and slide her groin across mine from side to side, arms by her side, the veins in her neck standing out as orgasm beckoned.

Then the next -- I recognized Mandy. She smiled at me coquettishly, but then went to work on her own pleasure, driving herself back and forth over me and gasping as her orgasm built.

I was into it now big time, my cock responding gradually to the silken sheaths that encased it, each one more blissful that its predecessor. And all around, those nubile forms, naked, glistening in the flickering light of candles, prominent nipples, flat stomachs, heaving in resonance, slender thighs, parted: fingers straying to stimulate luscious cunt lips....

I have no idea how many times they went 'around' before the pollen was at fever pitch. My cock was on fire, about to explode, but not quite. I can't recall ever a state of such arousal. My body shook uncontrollably, my limbs twitched, my head rocked back and forth on its pillow, my eyes glazed over.

And they knew. Not an instant too soon, my cock was free, cool suddenly. A hand tugged on my balls, another grasped my cock and squeezed. Oh, they made me wait, wait.... Oh! The devils, the fiends... Oh, Oh, Agh! Ugh. OhShit.....!

AAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHH!

It felt like pints.

When I came to, I was lying on the bed in the form of a star, the girls on their haunches in a semicircle. They looked like the angels they assuredly were.

"Not bad," one of the girls said.

'Not bad,' I recall thinking. What would she describe as 'damn good'?

I had no time to reflect on this because two girls had moved forward and begun to lick my nipples. A third laid her head on my stomach and slid my limp cock into her mouth, then out, then in. A fourth began to lick my ball bag, and a fifth.... well this time, as her groin descended over my mouth, she faced the other way. My tongue lapped greedily at a clit that peeked out from its hood.

At intervals, the girls rotated positions and I got to taste cunt after cunt, each one unique, each with its 'hot-spots', which were made known to me by the way each girl positioned herself.

How many times they went around I do not know. This was not determined by a clock, but by the state of my cock, which gradually resumed the state of grace. This was tested -- serious sucking and massaging of the shaft -- until some signal indicated 'ready', and mouth was replaced by vagina. But this time, the other way around. I looked up at a long, lithe backbone, squared shoulders. And there was no mistaking that the mouth that sucked from time to time on my balls was obviously engaged elsewhere as well.

Oohs, and Aahs preceded fresh orgasms that went on and on... and on! I began to wonder how many times a girl could orgasm in a single session. This I was not about to find out because they were still going strong when I felt the pollen rising a second time. Again, the girls recognized it, but this time there was no hand. Instead, a tap on the shoulder made me aware of Mandy, who lay beside me, her legs wide apart.

It was a struggle. I'd been on my back so long. But with help, I edged into position, plunged my cock into Mandy's open cunt and began to fuck. She held my gaze as I drove her into the bed, harder, deeper, lost in my own desire, but also reading hers.

OhShit! OhShit! Agh! Ugh! Agh! Agh!

I pumped into her until every drop was expelled. I swear she came too, but I honestly was past caring. I fell onto her prone body, pressing her into the bed even as my rump continued to propel my cock in and out of her, until this, too, died on me.