Surviving the Pandemic

“Surviving the Pandemic”

Sitting at my kitchen table, I was staring at a stack of envelopes; some marked “PAST DUE,” others marked “FINAL NOTICE,” all in bright red. I knew I was in financial trouble and had no idea how I’d find my way out. “Fucking Pandemic,” I thought. Tears began to flow from my eyes as I gathered the bills and placed them with last month’s version of the same bad news.

My name is Penelope Barnes. I was born in Harrow, UK, a small suburb outside London, in June 1978 and lived a normal English childhood until the summer of 1987 when my mother passed away after battling breast cancer for nearly a year. The following spring, my dad informed me that he had taken a transfer with his employer and that we would be moving to Australia.

Sixty days later, with all my most precious belongings packed in two suitcases and a large steamer trunk, we boarded a flight to the other side of the world. You can imagine how anxious I was, a ten-year-old proper British girl, instantly transported to the world of Koalas, Kangaroos, Wallabies, Tasmanian Devils, and Wombats, not to mention someplace called “The OutBack.”

Dad settled into his new job, leaving me to deal with the giggles and strange looks at school myself. Somehow, I made it through the next eight years and graduated from high school just before my nineteenth birthday. On my birthday, Dad sat me down and tried his best to explain “The Birds and Bee’s of life, something I’d been dealing with alone since I reached the end of puberty. I thought it odd that he hadn’t noticed the signs before, my breasts grew to a healthy 36 DD, and I taught myself how to use feminine products when I began getting my period. He did, however, warn me about men and how many would do or say anything to get into my panties, something that I’d learn about firsthand in the following couple of years.

I took a job working at a small general store while hoping to attend the local community college, but somehow those plans were put aside. During that time, I met Gwen, a lovely girl whose Australian accent confirmed she was a life-long Aussie. We became dear friends and remain close to this day. Gwen knew her way around men, often teasing them religiously, but occasionally, when one caught her fancy, she’d give in to their advances.

Every so often, a rugged-looking thirty-something cowboy would come in to re-stock his supplies. From his appearance, I assumed he knew his way around The OutBack. He was friendly enough and had a way of speaking that put me at ease. I asked Gwen about him, and she told me she knew him and that he could be a lot of fun to be with. I figured by that; she meant he’d be a great lover. I followed Gwen’s lead and began teasing Hugh when he visited the store. I’d give him ample opportunities to look down my blouse and made sure to smile as sexily as I could after he’d stolen a glimpse of my succulent 36 DD tits. Like clockwork, his visits would always be late on Friday afternoon, and after several weeks he asked me if I’d like to go out with him. I, of course, agreed, and after I got off work, we took a rather long walk into the bush.

Hugh was gentle, considerate, and said all the right things to put me at ease. As the sun set that Friday night, he kissed me for the first time, a tender, loving kiss which caused butterflies of anticipation to be released in the pit of my stomach. While his kiss lingered, I placed my hand on his and drew it up to my chest, basically permitting him to caress what he’d only gazed at before. As he gently fondled my tits, I moved one hand to his loins, and I touched a fully erect dick for the first time. Even though his jeans and underwear, I could feel his firmness, and I knew that before the night ended, I wanted to feel his rock-hard cock in my hand.

He broke our loving kiss and asked, “Are you sure about this, Penelope?”

I was never surer about anything and answered his question by squeezing his hard cock with my delicate hand.

Hugh’s throaty moan confirmed that he got my message. As I stroked him through his pants, he removed my blouse and bra and began kissing my sensitive tits and nipples. It seemed like an eternity but was more likely a few minutes until he had lifted my skirt and drew my panties down my legs. I wanted him, and he wanted me. Somehow Hugh was able to undo his pants and released his throbbing cock from its cotton prison. It pressed against my thigh, and I instantly reached for it circling his pulsing erection with my hand. I remember to this day what it felt like, searingly hot, with smooth as silk flesh and a flaring bump that circled his shaft just below the head. I discovered that night just how sensitive a man’s corona is.

“Take me,” I urged, wanting to feel his wonderful cock slip inside me.

He moved with incredible slowness, his throbbing cock head spreading my labia open, and I again pleaded, “God, I want you inside.”

I gave him the gift of my virginity that night; the pain of his rock-hard cock stretching my hymen was quickly replaced with the incredible sensation of having a man’s cock fully embedded in my tight pussy. In my mind, the final step from naïve adolescences to an empowered woman was to feel his hot seed coating the walls of my cunt. As his balls pumped me full, I realized my fate was sealed. The sensation of his lava hot, thick creamy cum would be something I’d crave from that night on, a feeling that would cause problems in the future.

Over the next few months, Hugh’s visits to the general store became more frequent, and he became my sexual tutor. Showing me the almost endless positions for enjoying vaginal sex, demonstrating the mind-bending art of cunnilingual stimulation, and of course, training me to become a master of fellatio. His was the first man seed I’d ever tasted, and from that first savory load of thick creamy cum I’d forever be a connoisseur of what a man’s balls provide.

Of course, I kept Gwen up to date on my newfound sexual prowess, and when the evening air became cooler, she offered to have me meet Hugh at her place. I have to admit that making love on a comfortable bed far outweighs being fucked outdoors on the ground. The first few times we fucked at Gwen’s, she pretty much left us to enjoy one-on-one sex, but after a couple of weeks, she suggested that she join our party. Hugh immediately agreed.

Gwen is two years older than me and has a firm body. Her tits, while smaller than mine, seem to accentuate her form, and when aroused, her nipples harden into tiny nubs at the center of pink areolas. She wears her dark hair short, almost spikey, highlighting her high cheekbones and full pouty lips.

I recall one sweltering fuck session when I had mounted Gwen sixty-nine and was lavishing her swollen cunt with my mouth, and Hugh was pounding me from behind with his rock-hard cock. Rather than filling my hot wet cunt with his seed, when he climaxed, he pulled out and shot ropes of thick cum on my sphincter and swollen labia; it ran from my loins and splashed onto Gwen’s face. It was a scorching scene, and I immediately turned and began slurping his thick cum from her face. That was the first time I’d ever shared my lover’s cum load with another woman.

Hugh’s cock is five inches when fully erect, big enough to fill me entirely but not long enough to pierce my throat when I take him fully inside my mouth. You can imagine my surprise when Hugh and I arrived at Gwen’s one Friday night to find one of her suitors reclined naked and hard on the bed. His mammoth cock rising eight inches above his loins, thick and gnarly with a bulbous head and broad flaring corona. Gwen giggled and then said, “Let’s suck some cock.”

She mounted him sixty-nine, and I followed suit, settling down on Hugh’s body. As I pleasured my man, I paid particular attention to Gwen’s oral technique. As she sucked his enormous cock to half shaft, her salvia glands kicked in, and in a matter of minutes, his entire shaft and balls were coated with her thick spit. Little by little, his cock shaft disappeared between her wet lips. I noticed her stomach lurch as his bulbous cock head stretched her throat open. I recall his harsh throaty moan just before he encouraged her, saying, “Swallow all of it.”

In a moment, her slippery lips surrounded his thick shaft at the base, and her nose nuzzled into his thick curly pubic hair. She was deep throating his huge cock, and he loved it. I did the same with Hugh, taking his cock fully in my mouth until my lips circled him just above the base of his shaft. I provided him with every oral pleasure except the sensation of being deep in my throat. Hugh’s cock exploded, filling my mouth with rope after thick rope of his sweet tasting cum. I swallow every drop his balls produced. As I let his cock slip from my mouth, I turned my attention back to Gwen and her lover’s pulsing cock. His hands moved to the back of her head, and he pressed her mouth roughly down on his huge cock. He was about to explode, and I knew his cum would be shot directly into her stomach. In total amazement, I watched as he climaxed, filling her so completely that some of his thick cum shot out of her nose. It was a sight I’ll remember forever.

We fucked for hours that night, and as I hugged Gwen good-night, I whispered in her ear, “Teach me to deepthroat.”

My training began the first Friday that Hugh remained out of town. “I’ll call Paul,” Gwen said when I called to let her know I was solo that night.

Gwen escorted me into the bedroom, and like the first night, Paul was reclined naked on the bed. But unlike that first time, his huge cock lay flaccid on his abdomen. Paul’s limp cock was the same size as Hugh’s rock-hard cock, but the bulbous head and flaring corona looked enormous compared to what I had become accustomed to. “I want you to feel his cock harden in your mouth,” Gwen remarked.

I stripped and mounted him sixty-nine; his fingers slid up my thighs and between my labia. “Take him in your mouth, Penny,” Gwen instructed.

As I lifted his flaccid cock from his flesh, I could feel the difference in both girth and weight to Hugh’s cock.

“Slide your lips down to the base,” Gwen said.

I stretched my lips open and forced his thick cock head inside, it slipped across my moist tongue, and as my nose touched his pubic hair, his cock head bumped against the tight ring of flesh at the back of my mouth.

“He’s going to swell, and you’ll gag,” Gwen warned, and then added, “when you gag, don’t lift off, just try to relax, and you’ll learn to control your muscles.”

Swell was putting it mildly. Paul’s cock reacted to my wet mouth and grew thicker and longer by the second. I gagged several times and tried my best not to lift my mouth, but the sheer force of his mammoth cock lifted my head, so my nose no longer touched his abdomen. As I relaxed, my gag reflex lessened, and his cock head stretched my flesh until it finally popped through and into the smooth, moist flesh of my virgin throat. In an instant, my nose nuzzled against his body, and the widest part of his enormous cock sank deeper into my throat.

“Good job,” Gwen remarked.

Paul stretched his hands to the back of my head and pressed my mouth down. I instantly imagined his cum load shooting from my nostrils, something I knew I wasn’t ready for.

His cock, now totally erect, felt incredible in my mouth and throat, and as I sucked his huge cock, the anticipation of tasting another man’s cum grew.

Gwen must have realized that I wasn’t prepared for a deepthroat cum shot because she suggested, “Cum on our faces,”

Paul gripped my hair and lifted my mouth off his big fat cock. I slipped off his body and joined Gwen kneeling before him as he rose from the bed fisting his throbbing cock.

She kissed me once and then remarked, “He shoots an awesome cum load.”

I stared up at Paul’s face watching for the telltale signs of an impending climax. His fist became a blur as he jacked his surging cock toward orgasm. “I’m cumming,” he exclaimed.

I opened my mouth, ready to accept his reward as he exploded, the first of many ropes of thick sticky cum sailing across the space between us and splashing on my forehead. He twisted and coated Gwen’s nose with his second shot, then turned back to me and pasted one eye shut. It was an incredible twin facial, leaving Gwen and I covered with his sticky cum load. Once his climax began to subside, he pressed the head against my tongue, and I sucked the last few drops his balls provided. My second taste of a man’s juice was completely opposite from the first. Hugh’s cum tastes sweet, creamy, a flavor I’d come to enjoy immensely, but Paul’s sperm had an acidic taste and, while thick, lacked the creamy texture of my first lover.

Hugh and I continued seeing one another, but rather than setting up visits to Gwen’s place, and I began sneaking him into my bedroom. Our lovemaking was, at times, tender and, at other times, somewhat rough. He’d often tell me how much he loved my tits, pussy, and mouth, but he never actually told me he loved me, something I’d expressed to him many times. Somehow, I feared that our relationship would not be for life.

Those fears turned into reality a few months later; my menstrual cycle was like clockwork, so I grew very concerned when I missed my period. After fourteen days, I called Gwen. “I think I might be pregnant,” I said.

“Oh shit, have you taken a test?” she replied.

“No, but my cycle is exact,” I answered.

Gwen suggested that I stop at the pharmacy and pick up a pregnancy test and come to her place.

An hour later, Gwen and I were together, and the results were positive.

“Who’s the father?” she asked.

“It can’t be anyone except Hugh,” I answered.

She smiled and said, “You did fuck Paul.”

“Yes, but I’ve had my period since we fucked,” I responded.

“Have you told him?” she asked.

“No, and to be honest, I’m a little scared at what he’ll say,” I answered.

Gwen paused for a moment and then asked, “Have you considered an abortion?

“Oh god no, there’s a living human in my womb, I could never end that life,” I replied immediately.

Gwen gathered me in her arms, hugged me tightly, and said, “I’m here for you, Penny, no matter what happens.”

“Thanks, Gwen. I knew I could count on you,” I said.

Two days later, Hugh came into the store; I assumed he needed some supplies and wanted to have me pleasure him that evening. “Hugh, we need to talk,” I said as he paid for his purchases.

“What about?” he asked.

“Can we go out back so we can talk in private?” I suggested.

Once we were alone behind the store, I took his hands in mine and bravely announced, “I’m pregnant.”

“Oh fuck!” Hugh said and then asked, “Is it mine?”

“Yes, Hugh, I’m certain you’re the father,” I answered.

His reply floored me, “I can’t deal with being a father.”

“That’s too bad,” I answered.

“Do you want me to help pay for the abortion?” he asked.

“I’ve already decided I’m having the baby,” I said.

He thought for a long moment before speaking, “If you do, you’ll be on your own.”

Tears flowed from my eyes as I replied, “I guess I’ll be alone then.”

In the weeks that passed, he proved that I was on my own. He no longer shopped at the general store for his supplies, and it became apparent that our relationship ended when I told him I was pregnant.

Gwen and I spent more and more time together, and when I started to show, she suggested I see a doctor, which I certainly agreed to.

My first appointment with Dr. Martin included an ultrasound. As she conducted the test, she asked me why the father wasn’t with me.

“I’m on my own,” I answered.

Dr. Martin shook her head and dropped a bombshell on me when she said, “You’re having twins,”

“You have to be kidding,” I answered.

“Nope, I see two babies in there,” she replied.

Gwen remained my rock, “We can deal with twins,”

Six months later, I gave birth to a boy and a girl and named them Jack and Connie.

I struggled through the first ten years, raising twins and trying to juggle working part-time to support my family. Even with the modest financial help I received from my father and Gwen’s undying support, I had no time for any kind of personal life, even though I often fantasized about being with a man. I had to satisfy those fantasies using a variety of sex toys and pleasuring myself while in the shower with my fingers. At the age of thirty-three, I was pretty much resigned to being alone until my children reached adulthood.

I recall one hot, humid Sunday afternoon when Gwen had stopped by to visit, and Jack and Connie were outside playing; we got into a conversation about sex.

“How long has it been since you’ve been with a man?” she asked.

I giggled and then replied, “I can’t remember what that feels like.”

She scooted closer to me on the sofa and said, “What about a woman?”

“I have no time for sex,” I answered.

“You have to make time,” Gwen said as she lightly placed her hand on my thigh. Her comment and the sensation of being touched sexually after so many years of celibacy made me realize I had to, as Gwen had said, Make time for sex. That afternoon her delicate fingers brought me to climax several times, igniting a craving inside that I knew I’d have to satisfy.

Gwen had become not only my support with the kids, but occasionally she would take Jack and Connie on day trips providing me alone time to entertain men without the fear of my children knowing.

As they approached graduation and started looking at the possibility of college, I knew my meager income would never cover the cost of secondary education. Still, both had worked hard during high school and were rewarded with scholarships to attend college. I’d have to work very hard to cover the costs in excess of their grants but set my mind that I’d do whatever it took to cover their expenses.

I was lucky enough to land a relatively good paying job working at a local business and actually was able to save a small nest egg that I’d hoped would see them through the four years of college.

Shortly after Jack and Connie graduated, my plans were derailed when my father suffered a massive heart attack and passed away. We were all devastated by his death, and it added to my concerns that his small financial support could no longer be counted on. His life insurance proceeds were only enough to cover the final expenses.

Once again, Gwen stepped up, helping the kids find part-time jobs and assuring me that she and I would give the twins what they needed one way or the other.

I remember how proud I was when in the fall of 2019, I’d somehow raised two beautiful children by myself, and they were now settled into their freshman year of college. The excitement of being able to again enjoy a meaningful sex life at the age of forty-two crept into my mind. I recall vividly surveying my naked form in the vanity mirror. My complexion somehow survived the years of stress, and while my body no longer had the sensual curves of youth, my 36DD tits remained my outstanding feature. Yes, my nipples showed the effects of breastfeeding two babies, but they remained as sensitive as they had been when I was twenty-two. I was confident that I’d have no problem finding a partner to share my rekindled sensuality when dressed to impress.

I had a good-paying job, a lifelong friend in Gwen, and the attitude that my life was about to take a much-needed turn for the better.

Some things in life don’t seem to affect you, especially when they occur so far away, so I paid little attention to the news reports of a virus being discovered in Wuhan, China. But as the weeks passed and the possibility of Covid 19 spreading beyond the Chinese border, I started paying more attention to the nightly news. The Chinese government had locked down the Wuhan area, but that didn’t seem to slow the spread. The first reports of Covid in Australia occurred in February of 2020, and rumors spread that the Australian government was considering a nationwide quarantine.

My employer announced that those of us who could work from home might have to take that approach, but those who needed to be in the office might be looking at a short-term layoff. My position required that I be at the office since I recorded production levels daily. Everyone seemed to think a month off could be dealt with, especially since we could all apply for unemployment benefits.

As news of the pandemic spreading worldwide became the focal point of every news program, it became evident that a month off was a best-case scenario.

My pay envelope for the end of March contained the dreaded pink slip, along with instructions on how to apply for benefits. When I got home, I called Gwen to let her know the bad news. She was working as an LPN at a local hospital and had been informed that she very well might be required to work double shifts for the foreseeable future. “This pandemic is going to take a lot of lives,” she mentioned.

I called Connie and Jack, who were already quarantined to their dorm rooms and were continuing their studies remotely, but both of them told me that might change at the end of the semester.

Weeks turned into months, and by the fall, it was becoming painfully obvious that my benefits would not cover my monthly expenses. If my kids were sent home, I’d fall further and further behind.

On one of her infrequent days off, Gwen stopped by for a visit. She looked worn out, a result of working double shifts for several months and witnessing the toll in lives taken by Covid.

“I’m so very worried,” I said as we sat at my kitchen table sharing a cup of tea.

She had noticed the stack of unpaid bills in the middle of the table, and as usual, offered a suggestion. “I know a couple that might be able to help you out.”

I was open to any ideas to see my way out and asked, “How could they help me?”

“They have run an agency for several years that provides women to a very discrete clientele,” Gwen explained.

I have to admit that I was somewhat shocked by her description of this agency and bluntly asked, “So it’s a whore house?”

Gwen smiled and then said, “Yes, technically, but they cater to upscale clients. Mostly businessmen, but also couples and single ladies.”

“How do you know this couple?” I asked.

“Before Covid, I worked for them part-time,” Gwen admitted.

I giggled before saying, “You were a part-time prostitute.”

“Yes, and even working part-time, I still made very good money,” she answered.

I liked the sound of making good money, but I knew that I’d be very nervous giving myself to men who were only interested in one thing. I’ve fantasized about being a street corner hooker, dressing in extremely revealing clothing and waiting under a light for a man to pull up and ask me to either fuck him or provide a quick blowjob for cash.

“Tell me more about how it works,” I asked.

“Okay, Peter and Katie like to describe their place as a playhouse. There is a large family room where the girls wait for customers, and about a half dozen private bedrooms spread throughout the house. Each girl is assigned to a room, and once a client chooses her, she takes them to her room. Katie serves as the hostess and discusses prices with the customer before they make a choice. The price depends on what the client wants. Peter kind of oversees the entire operation providing protection for his employees and handling day-to-day maintenance of the whole place. I never asked, but I think he also takes care of any problems with local law enforcement.” Gwen explained.

“Sounds pretty much how I’d expect a whore house to operate,” I said.

“It does, but a girl can make extra money if she wants to. If Katie agrees to provide vaginal sex, which by the way requires the use of condoms, for let’s say five hundred the house takes fifty percent. If you convince the client to add a blowjob, you get seventy-five percent of that fee,” Gwen said.

“So, Gwen, how much did you make working part-time?” I asked.

“I usually worked weekends, Saturday night and Sunday afternoons. My best weekend was twenty-five hundred,” she said.

“How many…” I began to ask, but Gwen already knew what I was asking and replied, “Ten or so.”

I did a little mental math and decided that if I went this route and worked four days a week, I could clear at least thirty-five hundred, a sum that would resolve my current financial problems.

I still had some serious conflicts in my mind about becoming a prostitute. Morally I always felt that consensual sex was something to be shared with your lover. If I chose to start turning tricks, I’d have to ignore my morals and be willing to offer my body to the next client through the door. The pressure of my current situation and the thought that this fucking pandemic could go on endlessly drove my decision.

“How do I meet Peter and Katie?” I asked.

“Give me a minute, I’ll call Katie,” Gwen responded as she stood up and walked outside.

While I waited, I thought about the possibilities. I don’t exactly see myself as overly sexy, even though my body has all the right curves and my big tits would most certainly gain the attention of most men. What I did have going for myself were my sexual talents. I’m not sure if this had anything to do with it, but forgoing sex for so long, my pussy had tightened, and being a forty-something mature woman with a tight cunt couldn’t be a bad thing. On top of that, my 36 DD tits would provide a delightful place for a man to bury his cock. One final talent is my proclivity for oral sex. Having a man slip his rock-hard cock between my lips and sucking him to orgasm provides him with immense pleasures and feeds my craving for the taste of a man’s cum.

Gwen returned with a massive smile on her lips. “I spoke with Katie, explained your situation, and gave her a basic description of your looks. She’s interested in meeting you; I took the liberty of setting up your initial interview with her and Peter Monday afternoon at one o’clock,” she said.

“That’s great, Gwen,” I answered.

“When I first met them, the interview was quite lengthy, so expect to be there for three or four hours,” she said.

“How do you think I should dress?” I asked.

Gwen laughed and then replied, “Penny, you’re interviewing for a job as a prostitute. Isn’t it obvious how you should dress?”

It was a silly question, and perhaps my next was just as foolish, “Did you fuck them when you interviewed?”

She laughed again and then said, “Why do you think it takes four hours to interview for a job with them? At first, Peter took me to a private bedroom and had me demonstrate my skills sucking cock. After that, Katie came in and gave me a chance to pleasure her with my mouth, and then Peter joined us and determined how well I fucked. You’re going to love the taste of his cum.”

“Did you do anal?” I asked.

“I did whatever the client was willing to pay for,” Gwen replied.

I giggled and then said, “You’re such a slut.”

“Why do you think the clients are willing to pay for sex? It’s because they can have sex with a woman who acts like a slut. Keep that in mind; it’ll add to your bottom line,” she answered.

“I think I’m gonna like being a slut,” I answered.

Gwen rose from her chair and, as she slipped on her coat, said, “I’m expecting a call from you Monday night.”

“Count on it,” I answered as I gave her a tight hug.

****************

I woke up early Monday morning with butterflies of stress fluttering in my stomach. Today is when I’d try and convince two total strangers that I could satisfy their client’s sexual fantasies.

As I sipped my morning tea, I thought about how I’d appear waiting for a client to select me to pleasure them. In my mind, I imagined an experienced whore dressed in sexy black lingerie, wearing a sheer robe to conceal her curves partially. Crossed legs with an ultra-high stiletto dangling off one foot and, of course, silk stockings covering her long sexy legs. Then again, perhaps a proper prostitute might dress in a colorful satin lounging set, hiding most if not all of her sensual body, allowing the client to use his imagination to draw an image of what he’d discover once alone with her. Neither mental image did anything to fend off the butterflies in the pit of my stomach.

“First things first, Penny,” I thought, knowing I’d have to ace my interview before I could begin thinking of such things.

I stripped out of my pajamas and studied my appearance in the vanity mirror. My big tits drooped a little from their sheer weight, and my areolas seemed more significant than I remembered. I recall how taut my nipples became as I breastfed the twins, but those days are long gone, and my nipples no longer become that erect. Below my tits, my belly has an ever so slight pouch resulting from carrying my babies, a condition that a couple of days a week in the gym might improve. Since my sex life was nearly non-existent, I’d let my pubic hair go untrimmed for several months, a condition I could improve on today. Using my hair clippers, I thinned out the bush above my labia and then shaved the edges so nothing would show outside the fabric of my panties. I considered shaving it into a straight landing strip but decided I could make that change if Peter and Katie thought it would entice their clients. Since I had my shaving tools handy, I quickly shaved my legs and armpits also.

While I showered, I ran my fingertips through my pubic hair and enjoyed the sensation when my digits found my clit. I was feeling sexy, so I spent the time massaging my hard clit through a couple of self-induced orgasms. That took the edge off the stress I was still feeling.

I don’t usually do a whole lot with my hair other than shampooing and towel drying it. Still, today I was trying to impress two folks who most likely noticed hairstyles, so I blew dried it and then curled my ends, finally brushing the tight curls out into a more seductive wavy style.

I applied very light make-up and only the thinnest of clear lip gloss, knowing that any color would be smudged by the Covid required face mask I’d be wearing while outside.

“Now, what to wear,” I thought as I shuffled through my underwear drawer. I don’t own any thongs but found a pair of full fashion black panties near the bottom of the drawer. They felt sensual, and I loved the tiny bit of lace at the side where the garment rounded my full hips. Next, I stretched a sheer black bra around my body, hooked the three clasps in front, and then spun the bra around and tucked my big 36DD tits into the cups. My darker areolas showed nicely through the diaphanous material. I carefully slipped my legs into a pair of dark nylon stockings and snapped the top hem as high on my thighs as possible. I slipped on my highest heels, a pair of black patten leather pumps with a three-inch stiletto-style heel. I surveyed my reflection in the mirror. “Not too bad,” I thought, hoping that at some point, this view of my body would give rise to Peter’s cock.

I considered wearing a pair of snug slacks but decided it better to give them a glimpse of my shapely legs, so I shimmied into a rather tight-fitting navy-blue skirt that featured a slit that ran from the hem to mid-thigh. There was no doubt in my mind that I needed to show off my 36DD tits and the soft, warm cleavage between, so I picked a white button-up sweater leaving the top four buttons undone and revealing as much skin as possible.

Those butterflies in my stomach somehow began to feel like hummingbirds as I drove to the address Gwen had given me. Pulling to a stop at the mailbox marked with their house number, I looked over the place. It looked more like a farm than a brothel, and after rechecking the number, turned left into a long straight dirt driveway. I noticed a small sign that directed visitors to a paved parking area behind the barn as I approached the house, an area that could easily handle ten or twelve vehicles. I rounded the barn and noticed another small sign mounted on one of the porch columns that said “Welcome” So far, Peter and Katie’s sex agency had all the earmarks of a discrete whore house.

My fingers trembled as I reached for and pressed the doorbell. “No turning back now,” I thought.

Time seemed to slow down, and as I considered ringing the bell a second time, the door opened.

“Hi, I’m Peter,”

“Nice to meet you; I’m Penny,” I answered.

I estimated Peter to be in his early fifties, his dark wavy hair accented by wisps of gray at his temples. He towered above me, standing at least six feet five inches tall. His wedged-shaped torso clearly showed under the tight short-sleeved tee-shirt he wore. I avoided letting my eyes drop to his loins, not wanting to be that obvious. On the other hand, Peter had no problem studying my body from head to foot as we stood in the kitchen of his place.

“Katie will join us in a few minutes,” he remarked.

I just smiled politely at him.

“So, is Penny short for Penelope?” he asked.

“As a matter of fact, it is,” I answered.

“Penny is so child-like, I think Penelope fits you better,” he said then added, “Penelope rolls off my tongue much better,”

I grinned at him, wondering if I’d be rolling off his tongue in other ways later in the day.

“Let’s wait for Katie in the office,” Peter suggested as he ushered me into the office off one end of the kitchen.

The office was huge, one wall covered with floor to ceiling shelves displaying all sorts of trinkets and trophies. At one end, there was a massive desk in front of a bow window that had several potted plants on the wide shelf. Two leather chairs faced the desk, and off to the side, a matching leather sofa offered a more comfortable seating area.

“Have a seat,” Peter said, pointing at one of the chairs. I was somewhat surprised when he took the other.

I crossed my legs, giving him an opportunity to have a look at my shapely calf and that part of my thigh revealed by the split in my skirt. I didn’t bother to hide the lacy top of my stocking that showed.

“Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.” I offered.

“Gwen gave you a glowing recommendation,” he replied.

“She’s been my best friend since I was twenty-two,” I said.

He smiled and said, “We’re hopeful that once this pandemic passes, she’ll join us again.”

Just then, I heard a female voice from behind, “Did you test her, Peter?”

“Oh, shit, I forgot again,” he replied.

I turned enough to catch a glimpse of the woman as she turned and walked back into the kitchen.

“Katie is a stickler about this whole Covid deal,” Peter said.

A moment later, she returned carrying a thermal thermometer. “Hi, I’m Katie,” she said as she pointed the instrument at my forehead.

“Ninety-eight point five, you’re good to go, Penny,” Katie announced.

I smiled at her and got my first opportunity to look her over. Katie appeared to be in her mid-forties; she was about five feet six inches tall and had platinum blonde shoulder-length hair. Her eyes are crystal blue and are highlighted by a dark shade of eye shadow. She was wearing a pair of white slacks with an arrow straight crease down the length of her legs and a vee neck pullover sweater that showed off the very top of her cleavage. The slacks rested perfectly on the tops of her four-inch stilettos. I was glad I’d decided to wear my snug skirt instead of the white pants I’d considered earlier. She has a robust figure, curves in all the right places, and to my surprise, her tits seemed larger than mine.

As she rounded the desk, Peter offered, “I think her appearance demands that we call her by her full name. Penelope is much sexier than Penny.”

Katie sat down and smiled at me, “Are you okay with that, Penelope?” she asked.

“Absolutely,” I replied.

Katie opened a file folder and said, “Let’s get started.”

“I have a Covid-19 questionnaire I’d like to complete,” she said.

For the next couple of minutes, Katie asked me the standard questions about symptoms and if I’d been in contact with anyone who had tested positive. I happily answered no to all eight questions.

She placed the form face down on her desk and then continued. “If we decide to hire you, you’ll be tested for Covid weekly. For obvious reasons, we can’t afford to have one of our clients coming down with the virus, so we’ve decided to take a rather aggressive approach to employee testing.”

“I’m good with that,” I replied.

We’ll also require that you submit to testing for STDs every month. We’ve made arrangements to have those tests performed at a local women’s health clinic, but you’ll be responsible for the costs of the tests.

“Fine,” I answered.

“Good, so tell us a little about yourself,” Katie suggested.

I thought for a moment, then began, “I’m forty-two, never married, but I do have two college-age children.”

“Do you mind if I take some notes?” she asked.

“Not at all,” I said and then continued. “I’ve had a few relationships but nothing long term or extensive. Up until the pandemic, I worked as a production controller for a local manufacturing company. When the lockdown was announced and production stopped, I was laid off.”

“Gwen mentioned that,” Katie offered.

“The government benefits just don’t cover my monthly expenses, and when I spoke with Gwen, she told me you might be able to help me out,” I said.

“That’s why we’re here,” Katie replied.

I just smiled at her.

“Let me tell you a little about our business. We cater to a very exclusive client base, for the most part extremely wealthy. They expect a certain degree of sophistication in the girls we employ. For the most part, our clients are middle-aged men, but we also have couples and single women who look to us for their discrete needs.”

I was listening closely to every adjective Katie used.

“Our clients pay a premium to ensure discretion and demand that their activities here stay here,” she explained.

“I understand, Katie,” I replied.

It was clear that Katie was in charge, and while I gave her my undivided attention, I occasionally glanced toward Peter, who hadn’t said a word but was clearly sizing my body up.

“Drug use is strictly forbidden, here or away from the farm. Any suspected use of illegal drugs is grounds for immediate termination. NO exceptions,” she said, emphasizing the word NO.

Some of our clients may offer to share a joint or a line of coke, but you’ll politely decline. We want our employees to have a clear head at all times. We don’t frown on an occasional drink, but once again, any impairment may very well cut into our profits and, ultimately, your income.

“I’m not much of a drinker,” I offered.

“Speaking of income, this is a cash business. We pay our employees with cash; if you choose to report it as income, that is your decision, but most of our girls stash their pay somewhere at home or in a safe deposit box,” she said.

“So basically, it’s non-taxable,” I asked.

“No, it is taxable, but like most waitresses, it can easily be under reported,” she explained.

There are a couple of other things you’ll be responsible for. They include your wardrobe and keeping a good supply of condoms in your dresser. Condoms are required for vaginal or anal sex but not for oral.” Katie remarked.

Peter finally chimed in, “We keep the place spotlessly clean, changing the bedding after every client and having the bar stocked with an assortment of drinks for our customers. If we decide to take you on, you’ll share a room with two other girls, each having a dresser where you can store your clothes and other essentials.”

Katie took over once again, “Earlier, I asked you to tell me about yourself, and since you didn’t offer, I’ll ask about your sexual preferences.”

Somehow, I knew that this interview would lead to this, so I answered, “Ask away.”

“I’ll assume vaginal sex is something you enjoy; what about anal?”

“I’ve never tried anal,” I responded.

She made a note of that fact, and then asked, “Is it something you’d be willing to offer?”

“I don’t see why not,” I answered.

“Good because anal is very profitable,” she replied.

I anticipated her next question, and before she could ask, I offered, “I absolutely love oral sex.”

She smiled and then asked, “Do you deep throat?”

“I have, but I guess that depends on the man’s size,” I replied.

She just grinned in reply to my answer.

I was feeling more confident about how my interview was going, and rather than waiting for the subject to come up I offered, “I love swallowing a thick creamy cum load, but also enjoy having my face coated with a man’s sticky seed.”

“Can I ask a question,” I said.

“Of course,” Katie answered.

“How much can I expect to earn,”

She laughed and then said, “That depends on how many, doesn’t it. I will tell you that once a client agrees to the cost, your cut would be fifty percent, and if you upsell, your cut increases to seventy-five.”

“That’s very fair,” I replied.

“Our costs to provide the client with a happy outcome don’t increase if you convince them to enjoy something more than the original agreement.”

Katie turned her attention to her husband and asked, “Have I missed anything, Pete?”

“I think you’ve about covered it,” he offered.

She looked at me and smiled, “Penelope, at this point, we often end our interview and unfortunately explain that we don’t think an offer of employment is in the cards, but in your case, I’d like to move forward to the second phase of our interview.”

Somehow, I understood what the second phase would entail.

“I’m going to let you alone with Peter for a while so he can determine how serious you are about coming on with us,” Katie explained.

“I’m good with that,” I answered, glancing toward Peter and smiling broadly at him.

Katie stood up and, as she walked past me, said, “I’ll see you in a little while.”

She closed the door, leaving me alone with her handsome husband. I twisted in my chair to face Peter more directly and asked, “What’s next?”

Peter smiled as he stood up and moved directly in front of my seat, “I’d like you to demonstrate your oral skills,” he said matter of factly.

For the first time since I’d arrived, I could now look at his package. The outline of his cock showed clearly, and as I looked up to his face, I said, “It’ll be your pleasure.”

He placed his hands firmly on his hips as I lifted one hand to his loins and slowly moved my delicate fingers along the length of his shaft. As I slowly caressed his cock he mentioned, “Our minimum time for clients is one hour.”

I wasn’t quite sure why he said that but I knew that I could take my time getting him thoroughly aroused, pleasure him with my mouth and hopefully my throat, and then swallow what I hoped would be a nice thick creamy load of cum.

I continued stroking him through his jeans for several moments, and as I did, I again looked up at him and said, “I can’t wait to feel it in my hand.”

Peter just smiled.

My mouth began to water as I slowly undid his belt and the clasp holding his jeans firmly around his waist.

“Take your time,” he suggested.

With his jeans open at the waist, I could see the elastic and white cotton fabric of his jockeys. Using a thumb and index finger, I slowly drew his zipper down, exposing more of his underwear.

“I wanna see it,” I said as I slipped my hand beneath his jeans and ran it along the full length of his cock. It was beginning to swell, but I wanted him to enjoy having it harden on the smooth, moist flesh of my tongue.

I slid his jeans down his legs as I studied the outline of his growing erection stretching toward the elastic waistband of his jockeys. I used my index finger to trace around the bulge and then moved both hands to the top of his underwear.

Uncovering a new cock for the first time is something that always excites me, and Peter’s was no exception. What shape would the head be, how wide is the corona, is the shaft silky smooth or covered by a matrix of blood-red engorged veins, will his balls stretch his scrotum down or be pulled up tight against the base. Of course, the length is always exciting to discover, long enough to invade the moist smooth flesh of my throat, or shorter so it can only tease the ring of flesh at the back of my mouth.

I hooked my fingertips beneath the waistband, stretched it forward, and began exposing his cock. I was somewhat surprised as a variation I’d only experienced once before; Peter is uncircumcised, his cock head nearly completely covered with foreskin that hid all but the very tip from my lustful view. I glanced up at him and smiled as I slowly drew his jockeys down, exposing a smooth, silky shaft and balls that were pulled tight against the base of his shaft. It was a compact package and actually drooped down slightly as his underwear reached his ankles.

As I slowly slid my fingers up his legs, I looked up at him, smiled, and said, “It’s like unwrapping a sensual gift.”

He grinned, acknowledging that I was about to expose what his foreskin covered.

With my eyes focused on his tight scrotum, I used one delicate hand to softly caress his balls while the other slid higher to circle his shaft. I leaned forward and used my tongue to lick his nuts, coating them with the moisture of my mouth.

“On your knees whore,” Peter demanded, using a term I’d come to expect while pleasuring his clients.

I slipped off the chair and settled before him, my knees cushioned by the thick carpet in their office. While I continued lapping at his balls, I thought, “so this is what it’s like being a prostitute; in less than an hour, I’d met a man for the first time, and now I was kneeling before him preparing to suck his cock. There was no small talk, no seductive teasing. No, I was here to provide him with the pleasures of my trade. It was a feeling that excited me more than I’d imagined.”

I used the very tip of my tongue to follow the bulge of his urethra along his shaft, letting my hand slid higher on his cock. I felt it surge slightly in my delicate hand, and as my tongue reached the bottom of his cock head, I let him slip from my fingers and then hooked one digit behind his shaft, drawing him down so his hidden cock head was directly in front of my lush, moist lips.

I parted my lips and took his foreskin-protected cock head in my mouth, sucking ever so lightly on the tip.

“That’s nice,” Peter commented.

I sucked him gently for several moments and felt his cock begin to swell in my mouth. As it hardened, the tip of his glans poked from the protective sheath covering his cock.

I let him slip from my gentle oral grasp, glanced up at his face, and then said, “Let’s have a look at this beautiful cock.”

Peter just smiled.

I circled his shaft just below the head and ever so slowly drew my hand down, pulling his flesh off the head. Having unwrapped my sexual gift, I took a moment to study his cock head. It was a deep purplish color, glans silky smooth, and a corona that didn’t flair like most. His corona looked more like a sensual extension of his smooth glans.

“Suck it, slut,” he urged.

While I wouldn’t normally consider words like whore or slut a term of endearment, Peter’s use of them added to my excitement of sucking his cock. If I were to get his recommendation for becoming one of their high price prostitutes, I’d have to show him that I could suck cock with the best of his other sluts.

I wanted his cock fully erect, totally engorged, throbbing, or pulsing in my mouth and throat. I leaned forward and began the process of proving myself by using my tongue to circle his corona, taking his cock head in my mouth, and pleasuring it with my soft, moist lips.

“Hmmm…” Peter moaned as my oral talents brought him closer and closer to rock-hard.

What had started as a four-inch semi-hard cock quickly swelled to a beautiful seven-inch rock-hard shaft, and I began pressing him deeper in my mouth with each lunge forward. I knew that his cock could spear my throat, but I started with my mouth wide open, taking all but the last few inches repeatedly across my slippery lips and wet tongue. Long strands of spit stretched from his cock to my lips as I fucked his now rock-hard cock with my mouth.

As he began the mad rush toward orgasm, he reached one hand toward me, filling his fist with my hair. I lunged forward as before, but this time his grip on my head tightened. In an instant, my face pressed to his pubic mound, and the head of his cock pierced my throat.

“YES!” he exclaimed as I swallowed his cock.

I let my hands drop to my sides and allowed Peter to continue his aggressive throat fuck. He was nearing climax, and I knew that in short order, I’d be tasting the fruits of his balls.

Again and again, he pulled my mouth forward, slamming his surging cock as deep as it could reach in the soft flesh of my throat.

“I’m cumming, swallow every drop, slut,” he demanded.

In an instant, his cock exploded, filling my mouth and throat with a massive wad of rich, creamy cum, its taste unlike any I’ve had before. I swallowed over and over as his climax seemed to go on forever.

He released my hair, and I instantly began the process of collecting every ounce of sweet nectar his balls produced.

“That was inspiring,” he remarked as his cock began to soften in my mouth.

I looked up at him and asked, “Did I pass your test?”

“With flying colors,” Peter replied, a huge smile coming to his lips.

Once I finished cleaning his cock, I slipped back onto my chair and used one finger to capture what cum had escaped my lips. “I love sucking cock so much,” I remarked as Peter pulled his jockeys and jeans up his legs.

He smiled as he moved aside, and then as he walked toward the door, said, “I’ll send Katie in shortly.”

The office door closed, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I was confident that I’d done well in the verbal part of their interview, and judging from how much Peter enjoyed having me suck his cock, I assumed part two was successful. I wondered how Katie would handle part three.

After several minutes the door opened, and Katie stepped into the office. Her smile led me to believe my assumption about Peter’s part of the interview had gone well. Instead of moving behind her desk, Katie sat in the chair beside me. “Peter tells me you’re very talented,” she remarked.

I smiled and replied, “It’s one of my favorite things.”

“While you were with Peter, I called Gwen. I wanted to ask her about how you handle bi-sexual encounters.” Kate said.

I knew Gwen wanted me to land this job and figured she’d have nothing but good things to say about that. “What did Gwen tell you?” I asked.

“She assured me that I could count on you to please other women. We have a fairly large number of couples who enjoy spending time here, so it is most important that my girls know their way around a woman’s body.” Katie said.

I just smiled.

“Normally, after Peter completes his part, I do the same but from a female’s perspective. Based on what Gwen assured me of, I think we may be able to skip that part of the process.” Katie remarked.

“I’m happy to show you that Gwen was upfront.” I offered.

Katie grinned and replied, “You’ll have a chance in the final step.”

Again, I smiled, knowing that the final step would most likely involve both of them.

“There are a couple of things I’d like to discuss with you, Penelope,” she said.

“Okay,” I answered.

“First, I think you should consider a change of hair color and style, something a little more sensual. How would you feel about a nice shade of red, nothing flashy, but more alluring than your current color, and perhaps a perm to give you more body than your current style?” Katie suggested.

“I like that idea,” I answered.

“Also, we have a very select number of clients who prefer outcalls, rather than visiting the farm. Would you be willing to see clients on that basis?” she asked.

“By outcalls, do you mean seeing them at their home?” I asked.

“Normally, outcalls are handled in a hotel room,” she explained.

“I don’t see a problem with that,” I replied.

“Good, we do charge a premium for outcall services,” she said.

I smiled and replied, “Sounds like a win, win for both of us,” I answered.

“One other thing, Penelope. I know you don’t have much, if any, experience with anal sex. I personally don’t enjoy being ass fucked, but if you decide you’d like to offer it to clients, I need to warn you that it can, depending on a man’s size, be rather painful, so you’ll want to keep an ample supply of lube in your dresser. Trust me, without proper lubricant; you will not enjoy the sensation.” Katie warned.

“Do I have to decide on that now?” I asked.

“Absolutely not. Just let me know if you want me to offer it to clients if you want to try it,” she answered.

I smiled and shook my head.

“Now, let’s have a look at your body,” Katie said.

I stood up and began unbuttoning my sweater; as I slipped it off my shoulders, it was apparent that Katie was evaluating my big 36DD tits.

“They are lovely; a lot of our clients enjoy large breasts,” she remarked.

“Do you want me to remove my bra?” I asked, hoping that the fact that my tits droop some wouldn’t be a deal killer.

“Yes, please,” she answered.

I reached behind and undid the three clasps holding the garment to my chest, and as I let it fall off my tits, admitted, “They are a little saggy.”

Katie laughed and answered, “I know what you mean.” Her hands moving to her chest and lifted her enormous tits higher.

“I love the contrast of color between your milky white flesh and the darker areola,” she remarked.

“My nipples don’t get very hard,” I offered.

She just smiled.

“Can you slip out of your skirt, please,” Katie said.

My fingers moved to the zipper behind, and after dropping it, I shimmied out of my skirt, letting it fall to the floor around my heels.

“We’re going to have to update your lingerie,” Katie said after seeing my full fashion panties.

“Sorry, these are the sexiest pair I own,” I admitted.

I knew that she would want me to remove my panties, but before she could ask, the office door opened, and Peter stepped inside. “Did I miss anything?” he asked.

“I’m just having a look at Penelope’s naughty bits,” Katie replied.

Peter wasted no time moving behind me and then circled my body with his arms cupping both tits and playfully lifting them higher on my chest. “She’s got really nice big fat tits,” he remarked.

“Peter, please,” Katie scolded him.

Katie was trying her best to keep this inspection of my body as professional as possible, but Peter was having none of that. “I know a couple of clients who will love fucking these massive orbs of pleasure.”

“Jesus, Peter,” she said.

I just smiled at her and enjoyed having him play with my big 36DD’s.

“I was going to ask Penelope to remove her panties,” Katie said, trying to get her husband back on track.

I didn’t wait for her to ask and quickly slipped my panties down my legs, leaving me fully naked except for my stockings and heels.

Katie took one look at my bushy pubic mound and exclaimed, “That jungle has to go. Either shave it completely or at the very least thin it out and shave it into a sexy landing strip.”

“Consider it done,” I answered.

Peter was playfully manhandling my big floppy tits again, and I felt his loins pressing against my ass. “Aren’t you going to fuck me?” I asked.

Katie knew that any semblance of professionalism was lost and said, “We’re both going to fuck you, Penelope.”

With that, she stood up and, in one fell swoop, turned her sweater inside out as she pulled it over her head. Her monster tits were encumbered in the sexiest, of bras and I watched as she undid the clasp between the lacy cups and exposed her chest completely. She ran her fingers over erect pink nipples and, as she moved past me, said, “Let’s relax on the sofa.”

I watched as she moved across the room, still being held firmly by her horny husband, and when she removed her slacks the thong, she wore matched her sexy bra. She reclined on the sofa and then motioned for us to join her.

“Let me taste you, Penelope,” Katie said.

I mounted her sixty-nine and lowered my loins toward her face. Peter wasted no time removing his clothes and settled in behind my ass.

“I hope you’ve got a condom,” I remarked as his hands explored both cheeks.

“Right here,” he replied, holding the foil package so I could see it.

For the next forty-five minutes, we pleasured each other continuously. Katie brought me to orgasm with her talented mouth and tongue several times, and I provided her with the same.

Peter was pounding me from behind and filled his latex sleeve with a thick load of creamy cum. “That’s one tight cunt,” he remarked several times while doggie fucking me. Once he’d finished, he removed the condom and offered the open end to me. I happily accepted his cum load, holding it in my mouth until I could turn and snowball it to Katie. We shared his load evenly, each swallowing our share.

As we relaxed after having a serious threesome, Katie said, “What do you think, Peter. Is Penelope hot enough for our clients?”

He laughed and replied, “Once word gets out, she’s going to one of our highest earners.”

“Does that mean I got the job?” I asked the obvious silly question.

“Absolutely,” they both replied together.

An hour later, I was dressed and preparing to leave. “Gwen tells me you will need some help with your wardrobe. Here’s a thousand as an advance. I’ll let Gwen help you shop for appropriate attire.

I folded the stack of bills, hugged Katie, and gave Peter a friendly kiss on the cheek. “Give me a couple of days, I want to take care of everything we discussed, and I’ll let you know when I’m ready to start,” I suggested.

“Let’s try for Sunday afternoon,” Katie said.

“What’ll work,” I answered.

I couldn’t wait to speak with Gwen, and as I drove back toward the city called her cell.

“Hey, Penny,” Gwen answered my call.

“I got the job!” I excitedly replied.

“Knew you would; how long was the interview?” she said.

“The first part lasted about an hour, Katie asked me all kinds of questions about my sexuality, and then Peter had me demonstrate my oral skills,” I replied.

Gwen giggled and then said, “I was going to warn you about his cock; I wasn’t sure you’ve come across an uncut beast like that before. I didn’t say anything because I wanted you to be surprised.”

“I rather enjoyed sucking his uncut cock, and judging by the way he face fucked me to climax, he enjoyed it too,” I remarked.

“Sounds like Peter’s mind was already made up,” Gwen said.

I just giggled.

“So, what happened next?” she asked.

“After Peter left, Katie returned. We talked a little, and she told me that based on your recommendation, we could forgo her normal one-on-one intimate interview.” I remarked.

“Did Katie say anything about your wardrobe?” Gwen asked.

“She did, and I have a cash advance to purchase what I need; she also said you’d be helpful in my selections,” I said.

“Yes, I did offer to take you shopping. Can we go Wednesday night?” Gwen suggested.

“I’m free,” I answered.

“What else did Katie suggest?” she asked.

“Well, she took one look at my hairy bush and said I’d need to shave it clean or trim it into a sexy landing strip,” I said.

Gwen laughed and then remarked, “I know you like the fluffy look down there, but trust me, most men prefer rubbing their noses in something thinner.”

“I’ve never had any complaints about my fluffy bush,” I replied.

“Has Katie scheduled you to work yet?” Gwen asked.

“Tentatively, my first time will be Sunday afternoon,” I answered.

“You’re going to have a busy week,” she replied.