I work as a saleswoman for a company that markets adult products. The pay is low, the travel constant and the hours unsociable. But it's all I can get at the moment. Mostly it's parties or fundraisers I go to, usually held in someone's home. The fundraisers are nearly always mixed events. Although I sell more this way, I don't look forward to them. One of the 'benefits' of this job is supposed to be meeting people. But there's little pleasure going into a room where the guys all feel compelled to make grubby comments and innuendos and the women all laugh in an embarrassed way wishing they were elsewhere. And some guy always comments on my looks or what I'm wearing or wants to give me advice about how to use one of the products or calls for a demonstration. It makes me feel like the money I've earned is barely worth the effort.
Much better are the parties. The ones I get on my job sheet are mostly all women parties – hen nights, engagement showers, that kind of thing. The lines I use for the different products don't sound smutty and the atmosphere is much more relaxed. Women aren't bashful about speaking out when there are no men around, and they're not worried about being misunderstood. They also say things about their husbands or boyfriends that they would never say if they were in the room. There is much more laughter and although I don't sell as much, I hand around my card before I go and quite often there are phone calls and sales that way.
Which is how I came to have a very raunchy afternoon late this summer. You may think that a woman in my line of work would have lots of opportunity for a bit of fun. Well only if your idea of fun is half-drunk guys trying to grope you or propositioning you as you fill orders and pack up. In fact, working constantly with 'marital aids' and 'sex toys' tends to de-sensitise you and it's only when you see them through other people's eyes that you can be reminded that they are things intended to give erotic pleasure.
I was at an engagement party one evening. There were around twenty women all getting into the champagne and dancing to some music. I went through the usual routine and they had a bit of fun with some of the novelty items. The bride-to-be was in her late 20s and made a humorous display of fellating a chocolate dildo. There was the usual interest in the leather gear but before long I could sense they were getting bored. I handed round my cards, packed up the travel case and headed home.
The next afternoon as I was on the way to another function I got a call on my cell phone. The woman introduced herself as Monica from the day before. As she described herself, I quickly remembered her. She was 30ish with pale skin and dark hair cut in a pageboy look. Very striking, with good dress sense that showed off her trim body. She had been fairly quiet at the party but I had noticed her because she had seemed more attentive than the others and because she had large dark sexy eyes and large pouty lips.
On the phone she said she would be interested in looking through some of the samples in more detail and making some purchases. We made an appointment for the next day and I jotted down her address. It was some distance and I hoped that I would make a big enough sale to justify the trip.
Early the next afternoon I knocked on the door of a small newly-built house in a commuter suburb. Monica answered looking as well groomed as I remembered and ushered me into the living room. She had coffee ready and poured it as I opened the travel case. Most phone enquiries are about the S/M items that we stock, so I had a good selection of those with me together with specialist catalogues. But Monica showed little interest in those.
I asked her what she was interested in seeing and she sat back on the couch, sipped her coffee and said that maybe I could advise her. She told me that she and her husband had a good sex life (don't they all say that?) and that they had an uninhibited relationship (ho hum) where they discussed sexual matters openly (yawn). Well, she had long known that there was a time in her husband's life before she met him when he had experimented with bisexuality (uh oh). Although it had been years before, he had recently started talking about it in terms of a sexual fantasy.
Monica continued on saying she could see what he was leading up to and didn't like the idea of her husband looking for sex with another guy. Although they had tried most things she didn't like that idea at all.
She was quite nervous talking so openly to a stranger and even though I encouraged her with smiles and nods, it wasn't getting any easier for her. She stood up and said she needed a glass of wine.
While she fussed about in the kitchen, I looked at a row of framed photographs on the bookcase – wedding photos, holiday snaps and so on. Monica's husband was quite a hunk.
She came back in with two glasses of chilled white wine and, even though I make it a rule not to drink on the job, I accepted a glass hoping it would put her at ease. I asked her how I could help. She said that her husband's fantasy involved him in a submissive role.
By this time I had had enough of the coy way she was talking. 'You mean he wants to be screwed in the butt?' I asked, and smiled gently to show I was not being nasty. Monica nodded quickly and took a gulp of her wine. But the ice was broken and she was able to talk freely.
Apparently he had always encouraged her to play with his arse and she had no problem with fingering his butt and rubbing his prostate while giving him a blow job. And so long as he washed thoroughly, she was prepared to rim him on occasion as part of their foreplay. Afterall, he certainly returned the favour and it was a bit of a turn on for her that he would lick her butt for long minutes. But they rarely progressed to anal sex – she was willing enough but he didn't seem to have much interest beyond tonguing and sucking her shute.
As Monica talked I was aware of a breakdown of the normal barriers between people who had only just met. I would not expect a stranger to confide in me in this way, but it somehow felt natural enough and a warmth was building between us. We were talking like old friends who had long been sharing secrets.
She continued saying that she had concluded that her husband's fixation on things anal was based on his desire to get bum fucked; and she was concerned that he would start cruising some gay beat and do something stupid or get himself in trouble. Not to mention that she didn't like the idea of him getting involved with some guy. At this point she stopped, put a hand on my forearm, and spent a couple of minutes assuring me that she wasn't the jealous type and that they had experimented with swinging and threesomes. It was just that anything he did should be with her consent, and he hadn't even tried to talk to her about it.
She got up and took our glasses to the kitchen for a refill. When she returned she sat close to me on the couch, our knees touching, and told me that her plan was to buy a strap-on dildo and give him what he wanted herself. I had a sudden vision of Monica naked with a black leather harness strapped around her pale waist and between her buttocks, a rubber cock hanging heavily from her groin. I took a gulp of the wine to cool my suddenly hot face then told her I had a few in the sample case she could look at and a number more in the catalogue.
I felt a bit flustered as I unpacked the case and took out a couple of harnesses – one black leather with studs and the other a more dainty red version – and a range of dildos. Monica went straight for the black harness and stood holding it as I complimented her selection and showed her how to fit the dildos in and the raised patch on the inside that presses against the woman's parts. She got the idea quickly and didn't hesitate in selecting a large nine inch black life-like tool (catalogue number AM8447/9B – we move quite a lot of these beauties), running her fingers up and down the 'veins' and around the ridges of the 'glans', a reflective smile on her face. 'Yes, I think this will do nicely,' she cooed and put her selection on the coffee table together with some lubricant and, after a pause, a small black leather flogger.
We sat back on the couch and resumed talking. I asked Monica how she planned to bring up the subject with her husband. She wasn't sure so I suggested that she do it as a role play. She liked the idea and we amused ourselves thinking up ideas, giggling like school girls. We decided that it should be something along the lines of a dominant/submissive theme with Monica pretending to be a tough butch guy. Our glasses were empty again and Monica refilled them. Returning from the kitchen she announced that she thought there would be a better chance of things working out if she rehearsed it all and would I mind playing the part of her husband. I agreed readily enough. She said she needed to dress for the part and I sipped my wine while she went to the bedroom to change.
She came out wearing jeans and a checked shirt, her hair tied back and lipstick removed. She strutted around talking in a deep voice and we both broke up laughing. It was obvious that wouldn't work and, after a bit of thought, we agreed to it with her being a dom mistress that her husband was going to see. She scooted off to change again and, after quite some time, came back in dressed in a tight black top with a deep scoop neck, short black skirt, and black stockings and pumps. Her hair was down again and she had lots of vivid lipstick and eye shadow on. She'd put on a push-up bra and the tops of her breasts looked plump in the neck of her top. Her pale skin was striking in this get up and her dark eyes positively smouldered. I felt weak in the pit of my stomach and Monica asked me if anything was wrong. I stammered that she looked pretty amazing and she gave me a long look.
She sat beside me and reached for her wine. Her skirt rode up to reveal her garter belt and the touch of her stockinged knee against my thigh made my mouth go dry. We talked about how to proceed and basically agreed that Monica needed to get into the role right from the start and not deviate from it. I would do my best to give the kind of responses a submissive guy would make.
'Right,' said Monica decisively. 'You go out of the room and knock on the door. I'll call you in and we'll go from there.' I went out to the hallway, took a couple of deep breaths, then knocked on the door frame. 'Come in,' Monica said imperiously. I walked in and stood before her. 'Well, well, what have we here?' she said, looking up at me from the couch.
'Please ma'am,' I said in a little voice. I wasn't sure what else to say and anyway my eyes were drawn to her cleavage and my mouth went dry again. She watched me staring at her for a long moment then stood up and walked around me.
'You're certainly an insolent little boy,' she said in a demeaning tone. 'Pretty and girlish and insolent.' She stopped in front of me and, hand on hips, said 'By the time I've finished with you, sissy boy, you won't be so smug.' She seemed taller and more substantial and had a natural severity about her. 'Now strip!' she commanded. I hesitated wondering an instant if she expected me to act out this part as well. 'Strip!' she said harshly, dispelling my doubts, 'Or it will be worse for you!' I unbuttoned my blouse, shrugged it off, and unzipped my skirt, letting it fall around my ankles. I was very self-conscious as Monica looked me up and down. I carry some extra pounds, especially on the hips and my backside is larger than I'd want. Plus my thighs need toning. 'So the sissy boy wears women's underclothing! What other nasty little things do you do? Huh? Speak up!' I wasn't sure what to say and stood there dumbly. 'Do you put on lipstick and make up?' she demanded.
'Uh yes.' I mumbled.
'And do you put on false eyelashes?'
