I looked in surprise at the email on mom's laptop. I hadn't intended to pry, but some of the words had caught my attention, in particular "Every Woman's Fantasy."
The email was from mom's younger sister. Mom, who was thirty-nine, had two sisters. The older one, Mary, was forty-one and the younger one, Susan, was thirty-seven.
Mom had always been closer to Susan. She and Susan were both blonde bombshells with big tits and big round asses. I jacked off every night fucking one or other of them in my mind. They were also blessed with lovely personalities, often rubbing my hair affectionately or giving me a playful punch. I was now nineteen, but they each had a photo of me in their bedroom holding a cup I'd won at athletics when I was sixteen. Next to the photo they each had a bottle of baby oil. They said it was because they both had dry skin, but I think it was to remind them of how they used to rub baby oil on my skin when I was injured.
Mary, the older sister, on the other hand, seemed to treat me with contempt. She was a brunette and was not as pretty as mom or Aunt Susan. She was taller and her long legs were her best feature. On the few occasions when I was not jacking off picturing the big breasts and big round asses of mom or Aunt Susan, I was imagining Aunt Mary's legs over my shoulders as I was thrusting into her.
The email was very interesting. Dad and my two uncles were drinking buddies. We all lived within half a mile of each other and the three of them seemed to spend all their time in horny discussions. They all had the same fantasy of seeing their wife having sex with another man.
One day, after a few too many drinks being consumed at a family get-together, I overheard my mom and dad and aunts and uncles talking. Surprisingly Aunt Mary suggested that she could enjoy sex with another man and mom and Aunt Susan seemed to suggest that it was not impossible for them. I was flabbergasted. I had never realized the liberality of the women.
Now, in the email I was staring at, there were details of what they were now planning. It appeared that Aunt Mary was taking things forward and that her husband, Uncle Martin, had signed up with an agency called 'Every Woman's Fantasy'. In her email to mom, Aunt Susan was saying that she couldn't believe that Aunt Mary was really going to do it.
Just then I heard mom approaching, so I quickly walked away from the screen.
I went back to my room to look up the service that 'Every Woman's Fantasy' provided. I had a number of computer screens in my room. As a 19-years-old, I had just started a course on Media and Drama. My media studies were not going so well and I didn't seem to be exceptional at the drama either. I had done a voice-over for a cartoon in which I played a gangster, which had won some plaudits. Mom had been supportive telling me how wonderful I was, but dad was not interested. I was told by the director that my voice was a younger version of a mixture of Joe Pesci and Gene Hackman. However, what I was good at was the sports. I was in the Football and Basketball teams. I was tall and pretty muscular.
As I googled 'Every Woman's Fantasy', what came up was an advert by the company.
'Wanted
Young athletic men looking to earn money in the evenings. An acting ability would be an advantage.'
I wondered what the work would entail. I could do with some extra money and I seemed to tick the boxes. I telephoned the number in the advert and, when I told them of my sporting activities, was invited for interview the next day.
The office was one of a number of businesses in the building. After finally making my way through security, I went up to a reception desk where I was told by the male clerk to go through some doors to a changing room where I should strip down to my boxers. Someone would then be taking me from that room into an adjoining interview room.
As I went to walk through the door, a young man about the same age as me and of a similar build came out passing me and looking very depressed. I gathered that he had failed the interview although he didn't seem hardly different to myself.
After changing, I only had to wait a minute before an attractive woman, about thirty, wearing a nurse's uniform, opened the door and invited me into the interview room. In the room, as well as the nurse, there was an older man in a suit. The man indicated a chair for me to sit in and I sat down feeling confused.
And I must have looked confused, because as I sat there the man looked at me and said, "Are you alright Paul?"
"Why have I had to undress?" I asked, puzzled.
The man looked exasperated as he said, "As it appears, Paul, that you haven't read any of the pre-interview introductory papers we sent you, I will explain everything."
"My name is George and I am the Chief Executive. Our company provides an exciting service to ladies who want to try out a sexual fantasy. Well, I say a service to ladies but, in reality, it is a service for the husbands who want to watch their wives having sex with another man. We only provide one type of sexual fantasy, which is the masked intruder."
"The benefit of this type of fantasy is that it keeps costs low as it's easy and cheap to set up, as the stage for the action is the wife's own bedroom. The intruder just wears a mask, provided by us, and a black shirt and black pants, provided by you."
He hurriedly added, "Your shirt and pants are tax deductibles."
He then continued, "All you are required to do is to go into the house through a door which will be unlocked. Go up the stairs and into the bedroom where the woman will be expecting you, act the part of a young hoodlum so that she can scream as if she means it, then fuck her."
I felt uncomfortable when he used the 'F' word in front of the nurse. I was also quite shocked at what I would be required to do.
I murmured nervously "What if the woman is not that attractive? What if I can't, you know?"
George suddenly said, "You're not gay, are you?"
He could see that I was immediately affronted at this illiberal
question and added hurriedly, "There's no problem if you are. It's just that I have another company I use to offer a service to the gay community."
I relaxed, "No, I'm not gay."
"You don't have to worry about not getting a boner kid. These husbands are all financially successful men, who married the best-looking women around. If they weren't that well-off, they wouldn't be able to afford my prices."
He hurriedly added, "Of course, with my payment to you of $500, you get the bulk of the money Paul, the rest of the fee barely covers my costs."
I didn't believe his assurance of his meagre profit-margin, I suspected George's fee would be in the thousands.
He continued to explain how things worked.
