"Cherry-Pie; with extra napkins." I breathed luridly into the receiver of my wireless phone as I paced back and forth through my lonely, sparse, and untidy apartment.
That was the code word for two prostitutes. I had to have an extra one this time. As long as you were content to never, ever be in the limelight, there were certain perks that came with working for an agency that didn't exist with billion- dollar budgets. The number that I dialed, the extension that I used, and a series of code-words could get me a great many luxuries through illicit back channels and covert cut-outs. That was how 'The Agency' operated, multiple layers of secrecy and misdirection with cover-stories, fall-guys, and 'clean-up crews'every step of the way.
I didn't know where the women would come from, didn't need to know; just as they would never be able to ferret out the identity of those hiring them. This was an opportunity that I had never availed myself of before; I had always maintained notions of higher motives, always tried to picture myself as a pure creature of reason and intellect that had risen above base animal needs. Until now.
Until I worked out a way to counter the alien super-hormone that was burning in my blood; I had to have an outlet for release. My penis had doubled in size in one month, and I could feel the weight of my balls; and it was growing difficult to remember what it felt like to actually have a limp dick.
Only elastic sweat-pants could be comfortable now, with my raging ten-inches of hardened manmeat thrusting boldly at all hours of the day and night. I had ripped my home computer out of the wall in disgust, internet porn had failed me; I just couldn't jack-off fast enough, couldn't get enough stimulation to REALLY cum. However much I tried, it always felt like I had much too much cum left over. And I'd tried a variety of hookers. So I had to up the ante.
Well, despite the painful distraction of my bull-cock pressing against my pants, I had still been able to get a little work done; and had forwarded some data, and recommendations for further experiments to the Review Board.
If I really delivered, if I continued to produce useful discoveries of practical application, then the unseen masters that controlled 'The Agency' would have no problem arranging multiple prostitutes every night sent to my address. It would continue to be set up through illicit channels of dark secrecy that I didn't need to understand.
I brooded for a few tense minutes. Suspecting that my report, and preliminary findings would be enough to satisfy the Board. I had of course, omitted any admission of sexual contact with the alien research subjects. But it was enough for an early report. I gripped my throbbing cock, knowing what I needed; but daring not to take that step. I would not allow the creatures; the shifters to touch me again. I had dubbed them Polymimeticus gynotrophia, and had to try and banish their memory, try not to think of them as women, tried not to remember the bliss of a blowjob from a woman who can grow three tongues on demand!
My hips bucked, and my ten-inches of steely cock throbbed as I grunted in frustration.
BRRZZZZTT
But that was the doorbell, and with alacrity that surprised even me, I leapt to open it.
The first was a shorter girl in skin-tight leopard skin spandex with a leather jacket over her upper body, but opened in the middle to reveal a Victoria's Secret push-up she was wearing as a top. Her hair was a neat, bright red chin- length bob that was probably a wig. She had sunglasses that changed color as the lighting shifted.
Her partner was a taller girl with a noticeably wide ass barely contained in blue vinyl short-shorts and nylons that exposed and enhanced her long svelte legs down to her red high-heels. She had a fishnet tanktop that covered a pink bikini that scantily covered her D-cup boobs. Her hair was dyed orange with black, horizontal stripes.
"The Lady or the Tiger; And I picked the ladies..." I breathed with a grin. The red-head paused as she stared pointedly at my gigantic cock tenting my sweat pants before speaking in a Brooklyn accent.
"What we was told was th- " I was on her, my lips pressed to hers and my hands down her skirt, with another hand on her partner's ass.
**********
I didn't appreciate their clothes for long, but I was a man in conflict - I could not decide between the redhead's boobs ( close to a Double-D) Or the taller girl's ass (To make a rapper whistle.) I was new at this and not quite sure of the best way to handle two women at once.
Sprawling upon the couch, (too horny to bother dragging them to my bed) I battered my way into the taller gal's pussy while trying to bury my face in the chest of her red-headed partner.
But admittedly, it was rather awkward to pound one pussy, while trying to wallow in the cleavage of the next girl. The two whores yelped as I changed positions. The Taller one with the tiger-striped hair; I still wasn't done with her pussy, so I hugged her close to me, crushingly tight, so I could wrap my legs around her, thrust into the hot core between her thighs, and lock my legs in place around her ass. But this still left arm length for me to caress and grope her red-headed partner.
They were seasoned professionals, but I could tell that in spite of that, I was getting to them. I bottomed out Tiger-lady just shy of my maximum length, and I could see her eyes bulging, never before had she been filled so deeply, so completely.
"He's... huge... beyond huge... so hard! So deep!!" wailed the tall prostitute as my rod burrowed deeper, amidst slickening trails of girlcum. I grasped the redhead also, pinching, teasing, twisting nipples.
Soon enough, my pumping meat was so slickened, so aroused that it seemed as though my pelvis pumped into the panting whore of its own accord.
"Why don't I get up and dance for you, stud?" said the Brooklyn-accented pro with the red wig. And she did. She thrust, and teased, and began to slide off her bra-top bit by tantalizing bit. She was truly a pro - probably a stripper in her last gig. But when she bent over, began to wiggle and jiggle her ass at me, I seemed to lose control; a red haze of roaring lust descended over me; and I knew that even if my intellect wished it; my body was so aroused that I could not stop pumping, thrusting, rutting into the tiger-haired girl with the wide hips.
She must have felt it; my manmeat was so rigid, so inflamed, so powerful that the condom ruptured within her. But from the way she was shaking as my wayward thighs jack-hammered her moist womanhood; she could not muster up the will to resist any more than I could; we had both been captured by the furies of my alien-powered sex-drive.
While one stripper danced, I plowed the pussy of the other. I did not fuck until I reached climax; I kept blasting away at her stretched portal until the woman beneath me grew limp with exhaustion; I had lost track of how many times she had cum; my pelvis slick with female juices. I too had - and had been cumming. But something was wrong. I would cum, and get almost no relief; Dry heaves. Short Draws. Some strange element was missing. My exertions seemed to do very little to quench my manic hunger.
It was all too soon that the tiger-haired whore lay utterly limp; barely breathing, exhausted beyond tolerance. Disappointed, I arose, barely remembered to reapply an intact condom, and leapt upon her partner, who at the moment was staring in disbelief; as if she had never seen a male of my explosive potency.
