TabuStoryPage

Jessica

Jessica and the Game

Jessica is lured onto the stage to strip and perform. She wins the game and the audience

I watched her closely as she stood at the front of the little stage looking out into the audience. The stage was less than eighteen inches higher than the small dance floor in front of it. There were no more than ten tables, each with two double wide comfortable chairs, that might even be classed as divans or love seats. All were occupied by couples, nestling down into the deep and soft upholstery. My being here was the result of Tom and his son's skateboard. But I am getting ahead of my story.

The lights had dimmed right after the girl had climbed the three steps onto the stage platform. All conversation had stopped and the small room was quietly and patiently waiting. The atmosphere was filled with promises of another intimate show. What or who or how or when was never announced beforehand, which made for a truly unique performance each night.

I found myself sitting in the shadows at the back wall, which was fine with me. Heck, just being here in this super exclusive club was almost a miracle. My wife and I had reserved this night to go dancing and bar hopping and she had metamorphosed herself into a cross between a society lady and a closet slut. She was not just attractive; she was the quintessence of the fusion of femininity and blatant sexuality. She knew what she was doing and she feasted on the admiration of the men in her vicinity as well as the envious looks of some of her less blessed sisters.

My wife Liolani and I had met on Maui where I had been sent to supervise the installation of a new generating system. She was, as she had laughingly told me, a history child. Her genes reflected, in a small way, the ethnic diversity of her island. She claimed that there was some Hawaiian, some Chinese, some Portuguese, and some Dutch in her. Those he was sure of, but there might be others, she had told me. The mixture had produced an exotic beauty with skin just a tad darker than most Europeans. Her dark eyes had a slight almond shape, a hint of the Oriental, and were one of her attributes that earned her the nickname I had given her while we dated. Let me tell you about that.

The people of Maui are extraordinarily proud of their Island, and rightfully so. You can hear them often exclaim that MAUI NO KA OI, which is Hawaiian and means 'There s nothing better than Maui'. One day we were standing under the huge Bunyan tree in Lahaina when I laughingly paraphrased the saying and told her that LIOLANI NO KA OI. I later on shortened that to KA OI, and then to just KOI. While I liked her musical name Liolani and used it often, it seemed easier and faster to call her Koi. And believe me, while this sounds exactly like c-o-y, the c-o-y word does not apply to her.

The night I will be telling you abut started innocent enough. Liolani and I were walking to the door leading into the garage when the main door bell rang. It was Jimmy, the son of our good friend Tom. He handed me an envelope on which was a scribbled message. Jimmy told me that his dad had instructed Jimmy to make sure that we understood that we were not to open the envelope until we were at least ten miles from the house. I thanked Jimmy and rushed back into the garage, anxious to start our evening. We honored Tom's request and waited until we had driven about 15 minutes.

"My God," exclaimed my wife," Tom broke his right leg trying out Jimmy's new skateboard." She tore open the envelope and found two tickets for the Club Venus, plus another message. It just told us to enjoy the show. He was sorry he could not go but hoped we would tell him why this club was so exclusive and how we liked the show. He had been given the tickets two days before by his CEO as a special bonus for snaring an important account for the firm. As a whimsical post script he asked my wife to think of something outrages to make the evening more memorable.

We were rounding the last corner before the club when she turned to me with a cattish smile to inform me that she had just wiggled out of her panties and that she would be bare bottom tonight. She had done that before on two occasions and it had turned her on tremendously then, especially since she at both times had worn a miniskirt. It would not be that daring tonight since she had decided on a smart black cocktail skirt, which came down to just above her knee.

This had been a good choice since most people at the club were dressed more sedately than we normally dressed when bar hopping. We walked up to the small bar and ordered our drinks, then got acquainted with the couple who shared our table. They were in their early fifties but acted more like our age, more like early thirty, down to their tastes of music, we found out. They were regulars and proceeded to tell us about the club.

You never know, they told us, what will happen. It might be a risqué skit, it might be one act of Shakespeare's Falstaff, or a sex show, or a quartet of artists unentertaining with their creations. But the events were always interesting and in good taste.

Our chairs, love seats, divans, were at the back wall. But since the establishment was relatively small one still felt connected with whatever happened on the small stage. There was not space enough for a band, so music was piped in. However, I noticed a large ensemble of drums and cymbals in a corner next to the stage. A very good looking young fellow with a terrific physique was busy making adjustments and I assumed that he was the drummer, But what kind of music can one play on an ensemble solely consisting of percussion instruments I wondered. I would find out to my delight.

Punctually at eight we were reminded by a drum roll that the entertainment would start shortly and everyone returned to their places. A gorgeous lady in a flowing dark purple dress that swept the floor, arrived from somewhere backstage and announced tonight's program. I will refrain from describing the program; it was a wonderful mélange. The evening would then conclude with some kind of game but no explanation was forthcoming.

The show started with a poet reading some of his poetry, which I liked very much. It was an unusual opening act, unusual I felt for a club that, I had heard, was way off the mainstream, mostly presenting entertainment appealing to the more prurient tastes. His poetry was both funny as well as sexually titillating. It brought forth a lot of female giggling, which made it quite clear that at least the ladies appreciated the poet's works.

I also noticed that my wife appreciated the looks of the stage hand in the right corner of the stage who supplied props like the stool for the poet. He was a tall, wide shouldered man in his mid thirties it seemed. His bare chest showed off his splendid physic. Must be Hawaiian whispered Liolani to me. He had been introduced at the beginning of the evening as Halako, which I promptly shortened to Al in my mind.

The last number before the "game" was a flamenco dance by a colorfully dressed Latina. The way it was presented was both artistic as well as highly erotic. I noticed my wife next to me crossing and uncrossing her legs. It must be the color and the movements that made her fidgety, I reasoned, it could not be the dancer. But then I noticed that her attention was not all centered on the dancer, her eyes kept straying to the drummer. He did manage to play music on his drums, a subtle accompaniment mostly but sometimes bursting into a joyous celebration of raw lust; always completely in tune with the dance. I did not mind the least If my sweetheart enjoyed some fantasies involving the drummer.

There was another fifteen minute recess after the flamenco, after which we would be treated to the "game". A drum roll called everyone back to their seats and I could almost physically feel the audience's excitement.

The lady MC glided back onto the stage and waited until all conversation had ceased and everyone's attention was focused on her. "We have a high stakes game ahead," she announced with a big smile. "For this we need a volunteer, either a lady or a man." When no one stepped forward she told us that she would select some lucky person by asking a few questions.

"Here is my first question. Is there a lady in the house who tonight goes without panties?" she asked. No one answered, so I took my wife's arm and raised it high. When the MC noticed my wife's raised arm she clapped her hands. Her "We have a winner," brought forth a big round of applause during which she stepped off the stage, carefully raising her dress slightly. When she arrived at our table she studied my wife for a moment, then she looked at me as if assessing what kind of reaction I would have to my wife being the winner. It was obvious that the winner was going to be the center piece of the "game'.

She took my wife by the hand, pulled her up and introduced herself as Jennifer and congratulated my wife. Then the MC took my wife's hand and gently led her up onto the stage. 

The lights in the club started to dim, except for the circle of a spot light focused on the two women standing in the center of the stage. Jennifer again took my wife's hand and gently pulled her to the front.

I should tell you that my wife is considered a natural beauty. Except for some eye liner and some eye shadow, she never wears any make-up. It isn't needed. I always wondered what other men considered her best assets; her petite, slender figure, her slightly tanned soft skin, her smiling, challenging dark eyes, or her coal black long hair that she wears in many artistic ways?

As I watched her standing at the edge of the tiny stage I could see in her face displayed several emotions tumbling through her. There was curiosity, there was exhibitionist enjoyment of being allowed to display herself to the watching audience, but there was also a slight apprehension about what was to come next.

"The rules are simple," explained the lady MC. "Anyone in the audience may make a request of Jessica, accompanied by a bid of no less than twenty dollars. Before Jessica makes her move another bidder for the same or a higher bid may claim that Jessica will not comply. The loser will have to deposit the amount of the higher of the two bids in this box we will bring to your table."

What came next was a definite relief for my girl; I could see it in her face. "I would like to introduce you to our guests, but I forgot to ask for your name." The tone in the MC's voice made this a question, not a statement. My wife tuned to her and answered: "My name is Jessica." "No. no," said the MC "An actor speaks directly to the audience. Go and face them and introduce yourself."

My sweetheart turned to look into the darkened room and with a clear and confident voice announced: "My name is Jessica." I knew then that she had herself in control. Any apprehension she had had was gone, replaced with the knowledge that she could handle any stimulation that might be coming her way.

The lady MC turned to Jessica, hugged her, and told her in a stage whisper for everyone to hear that she would probably wind up a rich girl at the end of the game. Then she stepped away three steps, leaving Jessica as the sole player on stage.

There was a minor, low volume drum roll and the MC asked for  the first bid.

"20 dollars for her panties."

"Forty says she won't hand them over. No woman gives her panties to a strange man," was the bid answer. "Anyway, she came without panties."

The first bidder spoke up again: "do you have your panties with you and will you give them to me?"

"Yes to both questions. My husband has them in his pocket and you are welcome to them." She turned her head to look in my direction and asked me ho hand her panties over to the gentleman who had won the bid. I don't believe I answered her. She wouldn't have been able to hear it anyway over the laughter that had exploded.

The money box was presented to the loser and Jessica was forty dollars richer. I could see and feel her enjoyment of the game. Her enthusiasm promised a great game.

The panty man now bid forty for her bra. Loser man bid fifty that she would not hand over my bra. "Or will you," he inquired.

"I am not wearing a bra, I hardly ever do," Jessica informed him.

The box received fifty dollars. The next voice startled Jessica a bit.

"I don't believe it until she proves it," said the voice. "She is too well proportioned not to have some help or support. Open your blouse and show us. It's worth a bid of sixty."

She immediately unbuttoned her blouse. I knew she would, she is immensely proud of her figure, especially her tits. She pilled her blouse back to display her two assets. I think I even detected her straightening up her torso further to really make her tits stand out.

The bid was hardly paid when someone suggested she drop her blouse altogether for sixty. A second bid followed immediately with a "I don't think she will. And I raise it to eighty." This was a challenge that Jessica could not let go unanswered. She lost no time, removed her blouse and handed it to the MC. This brought forth a round of applause plus some intricate play on the drums that were an obvious musical "Thank you".

Te bid was paid and I could hear a babble of low voices in the audiences. It was obvious what would be asked of her next. But before anyone could call for the inevitable next action a booming voice to my right asked Jessica to turn around and show her backside. The booming voice bid fifty. No one entered a second bid and Jessica finally turned.

The buzz of voices went up a notch till somebody asked Jessica to drop her skirt for one hundred. Someone else decided that she would not do that and bid one hundred and fifty. I was not sure myself if Jessica would comply or throw in the towel and quit, although that would normally not be her way. So I was not really surprised when there was just a slight moment of hesitation before her skirt fell to the floor of the stage. This brought another round of applause, and another musical drum solo.

What next, I mused. I did not have long to wait. Someone bid two hundred for her to turn and face the audience. This was answered with a challenge of three hundred. I could image her thoughts at that moment. The first would be a NO WAY. But then her fighting spirit would take over, saying I WILL SHOW YOU. She must have thought exactly as I was sure she would; she decided to go further. It was her way of saying I AM TOUGHER THAN YOU THINK. She slowly raised her arms and started turning. By the time she fully faced them she had both hands behind her head, displaying herself in an act of defiance. She mocked and dared the audience. I was so proud of her.

Her freshly shaved pussy sported a small triangle of pubic hair pointing to her prominent clit. Then I noticed something new. Above the triangle was a red tattoo which simply said CAUTION. I wondered when she had done that, or if it really was a true tattoo. I would have to find out later tonight.

The applause was deafening. Everyone understood her gesture. She kept her face as serene as she could, only the hint of a smile of victory showing. The drummer summoned his ensemble to add a triumphant I KNOW WHAT YOU ARE SAYING, BABE to the general noise.

Jessica held her pose for maybe ten seconds, and then lowered them again to her side. As the applause finally died down she turned to Al and challenged him to do what she had done. If she expected him to meekly shake his head NO, she was mistaken. He met her challenge without hesitation and it turned out that he did not wear anything yonder his trouser, either. There were many AAHs and OOOHs from the female guests, and also some WHOAs from some males. He had looked great just bare chested, but filly nude he was magnificent. Much later, after we had become good friends, I found out that he was the son of a Samoan minor chief. Looking back at Jessica I began to wonder if she was drooling, and then decided that she certainly was.

Finally the hubbub died and a lady's voice instructed Jessica to French kiss this hunk for no less than thirty seconds. This was a two hundred dollar bid and it went unchallenged.

Jessica did not wait for Al's reaction. She took three steps to stand in front of him, put both arms around his neck and started kissing him fiercely. She seemed more turned on than I had thought. Halfway into her kiss she let her right hand nonchalantly fall so that it landed on his prick. She is a master at awakening this part of a man's anatomy and it became obvious to everyone after only a few moments that she really was a master. Inside I chuckled, she would have kissed and fondled Al without a two hundred dollar inducement, but there was more to come.

We want to see your pretty buns urged a male voice who bid one hundred for this privilege. He had no takers, either. By now the audience knew that Jessica could handle about every challenge coming her way. Al turned her to face away from the room and she obediently bent over giving everyone a thorough view of her charms. After maybe six, seven seconds Al announced that they had seen enough, and he was screening her from further ogling,

by shading her with his very own body. As he stepped behind her I could hear him telling her that he was going to reward her for a super performance.

A woman in the audience cried out at Jessica REACH BACK AND PUT IT IN. She added that she bet five hundred so please don't disappoint me. Jessica is a kindhearted wench and I was certain that she could not bear the thought of disappointing this friendly lady. She obeyed at once. Al made a few moves to which Jessica answered with a rasping AAAAH. The five hundred dollar voice came on again to urge Jessica to turn so that they were sideways to the audience. This way the event could be enjoyed by all.

Al moved one strong arm under the bent over girl, lifted her off her feet and deposited her near the front of the stage so that they were sideways to the audience. Jessica was so hot she probably did not know any more where she was, and if she was aware of her surroundings she wouldn't care. She was in a world of her own and nothing else mattered except the wonderful feeling that started in her pussy and from there radiated into every pore of her body. At first her arms were hanging lifeless but soon her hands moved to her tits. She alternated between teasing her nipples and squeezing and kneading her tits. Her mouth was wide open and her labored  breathing could be heard even in the back where I was sitting.

As I looked around me I noticed that many small hands had sneaked under the hem of dresses or had wandered to the pants next to them. All the while the action was underscored with whimpers from Jessica, interrupted from time to time by strangled screams and moans. Suddenly I became aware of a sensuous drumbeat that imitated and magnified Jessica's vocalizations in perfect harmony. When the drums stopped I looked over and saw the young drummer climb onto the stage and inch forward till he stood next to the lady MC, not more that three feet away from Al and Jessica.

Ten seconds passed and someone called out a five hundred dollar bid for Jessica to give the young fellow a blow job. He did not wait for any encouragement from her and stepped right up to her face. By this time he had sprouted an erection that Jessica could not overlook. Her right hand reached out to encircle his prick and pull it closer so she could tongue it lovingly before she directed it into her mouth and began to suck on it, moving her lips up and down the boy's dick.

I could sense Jessica's climax approaching and saw her increasing her efforts on the drummer's prick in her mouth. He came first with the all the energy of youth. Jessica swallowed until the limp dick plopped out of her mouth. Suddenly her body arched and starting with little shrieks she built up to a wild crescendo of sounds as her climax shook her. She climaxed again and again until she finally was so exhausted that I was afraid her legs would buckle under her. Al must have felt it also because he pulled out, and then turned Jessica to face him. He stroked her face tenderly and then kissed for almost a half a minute. Suddenly she remembered what I had taught her; take care of the instrument that pleasured you. She went down to kneel in front of Al and started on what she likes to do. She gave him the blowjob of his life; looking up to him all the while she was pleasuring him. When he at last exploded in her mouth I watched her swallowing his come as she had swallowed the drummer's.

The young fellow had returned to his corner and had accompanied Al when Al had shuddered to his climax. The audience was still, there was a hush in the room as Al tenderly picked up Jessica. She slung her arms around his neck and buried her face on his chest. There was not a whisper to be heard from the audience as Al carried his sweet load backstage. The only sound was a sweet and low volume song from the drums as they said their good-bye.

(The next three Jessica series are: Jessica does Tricks, Jessica Returns from Europe, Jessica Surprises Herself)

JESSICA DOES TRICKS
Wife turns call girl. Hubby finds out, befriends her black pimp and plays a game with both

I knew the female's voice. I was absolutely certain. But somehow I could not believe what my ears told me; all she had said was 'Here is four hundred'. That was enough to tell me who spoke the words. What was my wife doing here? She was supposed to be at a hen party tonight and this was not a hen party. This was the Grand Hotel where most of the conventions took place.

The man's voice I was not familiar with, it was new to me. I had never heard it before.  He spoke to her in a low, pleasant voice, telling her to go back to work and turn another trick. Did this mean that he was her pimp?

The clicking of heels told me that she was leaving and I ventured a peek through the bushes that circled the porch. I could just get a glimpse of a shapely ass wiggling in a blue mini skirt. She was returning to the convention hall. The male voice I had heard belonged to a tall, wide shouldered man who was slowly making his way to the bar.

I was stunned. I just stood rooted to my spot for a few minutes. But then I decided to try and find a place from where I could observe the convention hall and not be seen easily. The bar was definitely the best spot for my purpose.

Luck was with me that night. There was a free stool next to the stranger whose voice I had heard and it was perfect. From my vantage point I was able to see most of the convention hall. And as I scanned the bustling hall I spied a couple standing at the elevators, a well dressed gentleman and a petite, black haired girl in a blue mini skirt. His left hand reached out to press an elevator button while his right hand was busy caressing the girl's bottom. I strained to see more but the elevator door opened and the couple walked in.

As I eased myself onto the stool I accidentally brushed against the stranger's arm, causing him to spill a few drops of his drink. I apologized, but he waved me off with a 'warm grin and a laughing 'don't mention, I might spill a drop of yours'. And with this we were no strangers any longer.

His name was George he told me, and I introduced myself as Karl, which is my middle name. I certainly did not want to give out my real name until I knew where all this was leading to.

We exchanged the usual pleasantries to see if there was interest enough to continue talking to each other. He seemed to be intrigued by my accent and asked me where I came from originally. Sweden, I told him.

He shifted the conversation and asked if I was looking for some 'action'. If so there was just the right girl here he knew and he would love to introduce me to her. She is from Germany, he informed me.

"She is one hell of a girl. Almost petite, beautiful, shiny black hair, and eyes that can burn a hole in you if you let her. But not cheap," he laughed.

"That sounds great," I answered. "I have another fifteen minutes left before I have to run to be in time for an important meeting with a client."

The meeting was the truth, the time was not. I wanted to be gone when my wife returned from her meeting. And fifteen minutes sounded safe enough.

"That's too bad", he informed me as he handed me his business card. "She is with a customer right now and you will be gone before she comes back down."

He then told me a little nit about Jessica. That she was the top girl working for him. That she was a real lady. That she was endowed with a phantastic body and face, but with a warm and pleasant personality. She had some kind of aura that made you love her the moment you meet her. There was more praise of Jessica but I had to cut the description of her short if I wanted to be gone by the time she returned.

I put my tip next to my empty glass and George and I shook hands. His parting words "Hope to meet you again," as he pressed his calling card into my hand.

The meeting with my client went well and it was late when I arrived home. Sitting in my favorite arm chair in our living room I thought about the evening's discovery at the Grand Hotel. Was my wife blackmailed? Was she on a whim just playing out a fantasy of hers? Was she acting on an 'I dare you' challenge? Did she lose a bet at one of her Saturday hen parties? I was utterly perplexed.

How could what I had heard tonight be true? Liolani and I were deeply in love with each other. Among our friends we were called 'The Lovebirds', 'The honeymooners', and similar names. I decided that the best way to discover the truth was through George.

I was awake in bed when Liolani came home about 2 AM. I expected to see some eye make-op, but there was no trace of it, she must have cleaned her face somewhere. She also had changed from the blue mini skirt in which I had seen her to the slinky black dress she had worn when she had left for her 'hen party'. Coming out of her shower she was surprised and delighted to find me awake.

My wife and I had met in Hawaii where I had been sent to supervise the installation of a new system. It was love on first sight. I proposed and six months later we were husband and wife. I took her back with to Germany as soon as the papers had made it through the proper channels. Her blood truly was a mixture, a mixture of Chinese, some Hawaiian, some Portuguese, and some Dutch. Her dark eyes had a slight almond shape, a hint of the Oriental, in short, she was an exotic beauty turning heads wherever we went.

She also was always ready for sex, but even more so after her twice monthly 'hen parties'. Tonight she walked to the foot of the bed and just stood there smiling at me. Then she slowly raised her arms above her head. It did wonders for her tits; they were a perfect 34 without a bit of sag, slightly conical. Her raised arms made them stand up pointing at me, calling me. But I resisted for now.

I noticed with delight that her aureoles were much darker than usual and that her nipples looked hard and enlarged. There was no question, she was turned on. Her eyes almost smoldered as she looked at the tent that had formed just two feet in front of her. I expected her any moment to pounce on it like a tigress.

Instead she licked her lips, slowly lowered her arms, drew back the covers and drank in the sight of my upright penis. I knew she was going to worship it in her own unique way when she parted my legs and started crawling up toward her prey.

Her teasing tongue started at the base and then slowly wiggled up to the top. She knew the most sensitive spot and played a fortissimo there before opening her lips and swallowing my shaft as far as she could. I knew I was going to be treated to her special.

Her special was a wondrous mixture of deep throat and shallow nips at the top, constantly changing her tempo, her suction, her angle of attack, and the pressure of her lips. Combined with the antics of her tongue her performance always became a truly triumphant symphony. Sometimes they resembled a Wagnerian overture, at other times a Light Cavalry overture, or even a Strauss Waltz. But they were always a new surprise.

Tonight I was going to be treated to another of her creative performances I sensed. She played her instrument until she felt the crescendo of the finale approaching. She withdrew her lips at the right moment and grasping my penis with her right hand, directed my jism onto her face. She then nonchalantly used her fingers to smear it all over her face. It did not seem to matter to her that some even had landed in her hair.

I was utterly amazed at her wantonness. She knew what effect it was having on me, smiled innocently and whispered: "I wanted to do that for some time and just once behave like a whore and get a cream pie from you. You didn't mind, I hope."

After she had cleaned herself and wiped me dry she started on getting me hard again for her main course. It was a memorable night. She wanted to be fucked doggie style, and then she wanted to fuck herself on top, facing me, so that I could play with her sensitive tits. She was wild that night. She always was vocal but tonight her volume almost doubled. It was a good thing she had taken the edge off of me, I could not have lasted through her performance. I counted at least three heavy climaxes, plus a swarm of little ones. 

I am a patient man and had no trouble biding my time. I waited two weeks before I called George and invited him for a drink at my favorite bar. The ladies present ogled him, some furtively, some openly. Even I could feel the magnetism he exuded. It was powerful, the promise of sex, a mixture of both tenderness and of stern demands.

This time I could study him at leisure and I liked what I saw. I knew instinctively that I had found a true friend. And the future proved me right.

He told me about growing up in a black ghetto as a mixed child that did not belong to either black or white. An outcast among his black neighbors, an unaccepted person among the whites at school. He reminded me of Gen. Powell. His face was only slightly tinged with some black features, and his skin color was just a shade off a Caucasian. A white skin that was a little darker than usual, maybe tanned by too much sun.

I had to assume that he would tell Jessica about the fellow from Europe he had met. So I changed my date of arrival in the US by several years. And I told him that I sometimes missed my home town, Stokholm.

As we talked, the subject eventually and predictably moved to his 'girl'Jessica. She was married to a wonderful husband whom she adored and who loved her with all his heart. George obviously admired Jessica and cared for her. And from several remarks he made it became clear that she cared for him. No, he stated firmly, it was not love but attraction of a different and indefinable kind.

We both had enjoyed each others company and we decided to get together every two to three weeks. What started out as a fishing trip for information about my wife had turned into a nice friendship with her pimp. I began to wonder how he would react when he found out that Jessica was actually my wife Liolani.

At our next meeting I asked him outright how he recruited his girls. All three were married he had already told me, - married girls don't tell, he had added. As far as recruiting goes he was willing to share with me how Jessica had joined his crew. His announcement dumped several buckets of adrenaline into my blood and I almost started shaking with anticipation. This was what I wanted to know more than anything, - how did all this start.

"I was driving home from a luncheon with friends," recounted George, "when I saw a young lady opening the hood of her car, which was obviously disabled. I stopped to see if I could help. But I am not a mechanic and was as helpless as she. When I offered to give her a ride home, she gratefully accepted. She asked me to stop at a little park on Windsor Ave, one block from her home. As she thanked me for the ride, I gave her my business card and told her that I could probably help her if she ever needed some money.

I did not expect to ever hear from her but a week later she called me to arrange a meeting. Her car was repaired and if I would give her my address she would see me in one hour. She arrived on time, looking absolutely stunning. Much later I found out that she always looked the perfect lady, dressed elegantly, whenever she left the house, even if she only went shopping. Jessica is a proud lady, and rightfully so.

We made small talk for a while. I told her where I grew up; she told me that she and her husband came to the US in 1952. She said she was 36 and then proved it when I absolutely refused to believe her. Honestly, she looked like 26 and her vivaciousness also made her appear much less than 36.

After two glasses of wine I showed her the backyard with the pool I had just filled the week before. Then I took her through the house. We stopped in my bedroom and sat on the edge of my bed. I started to explain the duties and the income if she wanted to join me, but I never dreamed that she would eventually become one of my girls.

The longer we talked the more fidgety she became, crossing and uncrossing her legs over and over. I also noticed that her breathing was getting a bit labored; and when I put my arm around her she practically melted into me. Just thinking about our next hour or two makes my breathing quicken. It was not a plain fuck; this lady turned fucking into an art form.

She explained how she and her husband viewed prostitution. That a call girl was dispensing happiness and should be compensated like everyone else, such as masseuses, or bartenders, etc. That she and her husband felt as Robert Heinlein, who wrote in one of his books that 'there are more honest prostitutes than honest lawyers'.

But she turned down my invitation. We had one more glass of wine and she was gone, leaving behind the memory of a goodbye kiss that could have melted Gibraltar.

She phoned me again a week later to ask if she could come and visit. We again made small talk, and then she dropped a bomb shell. She was willing to join if I would agree to a number of rules she had drawn up. How could I refuse? I went over some of my rules and she agreed to them. When I told her that a prostitute mist always make herself available to her pimp she agreed by saying 'absolutely'. That was about five months ago and she has bloomed into the very top call girl, probably of the entire State. Now you know how Jessica came to work for me.

I promised George that I would call him when I could get another afternoon off so we could meet again for a drink.

A month later I finally could get together with George again at my favorite little bar. We bitched a bit about the problems we had, I talked of mine and he grumbled about his. We told some jokes, discussed and cussed our favorite football team, and generally had a good time.

"One more problem," he suddenly burst out. "And it's a big one. You see, I have really taken to Jessica. Not real love, like getting married or so, I can't really explain it. Not long ago we met some friends at a grocery store and I proudly introduced her as my girl friend. Later I apologized to her and guess what, she said. 'I loved it, I like being your girl friend,' she had told me.

But that's not the problem, Karl. I have won an all-expense paid tour for two to Germany for this fall, about six weeks from now. I so much would love to take Jessica with me, but how do you tell a devoted husband like hers. Just not possible. She would love to go, but she is a girl that absolutely cannot lie even if her life depended on it. So a lie like going with a girl friend is out.

Now she is considering asking him outright. That will bring up questions like who is George etc. And since she will not lie…. well you figure yourself. You can see the mess this could create. We just don't know. You are the only person I told this to because I trust that it will not go further."

I agreed with him and promised him to let him know if I could think of a solution. We shook hands and I left him sitting alone in his booth with his drink. Suddenly I remembered a story about Alexander the Great cutting the intricate knot of King Gordius with one sword stroke. Aha, I said to myself, that is what we need, a swift sword strike.

A week later I had to run home to get some papers I had worked on the night before and then had forgotten to take them with me this morning. Liolami was not home but I did not write her a note, which I usually do. I was in a hurry to get back to the office. I was just getting ready to leave when the phone started ringing, but I decided to let the call go to the recorder. I recognized George's voice at once and stopped to listen. He left a cryptic message. 'Tomorrow 2:30  Toro twelve, mini." It took me two minutes to understand that my wife had an assignment at 2:30 tomorrow at the El Toro Motel, room 12, wearing a mini skirt.

That afternoon I bought a black mini skirt, which I gave her after dinner. I had for some time asked her to wear one at home, together with a pair of heels. That would display her beautiful long legs I had reasoned. Humor me for once and wear a miniskirt tomorrow night I pleaded with her and she promised she would do that.

The next day was her assignment and I had to see this event. At 2:10 I was in place in a car I had borrowed from a co-worker. I had my surveillance spot chosen with great care. Liolani-Jessica rolled in at 2:25, parked her car, went to room 12 and just walked in. She wore a blue mini skirt, a white tank top and heels. She looked somewhat slutty, so completely out of character for her. Her customer probably had made that request, and the customer is always right. The door to room twelve was unlocked when Jessica arrived and I found out later that George had a long tem contract for that room.

Her customer arrived not long after. Then, at 3:oo George arrived but stayed in his car.

I had seen enough and went back to work undetected. It was time to cut the Gordian knot, and tonight would be the time I decided. And I was not getting her off the hook without some teasing.

When I came home Liolani greeted me with her usual enthusiasm and a kiss hotter than a green Habanera chili. She was indeed wearing the black mini I had given her. She looked so sexy that I had a tough time hiding the boner that started developing in my pants.

I thanked her for wearing the mini, telling her how sexy she looked. "No wonder you are so much in demand," I teased her. She gave me a quizzical look and said: "what do you mean by that?"

"Well, you are in demand, aren't you," I answered. "Wherever you go and whatever you are told to do, you do it with perfection. Your cookies are the best and you are famous for your egg rolls. Whatever you do, you do it to please, isn't that right, sweetheart?"

This brought me another quizzical sidewise glance.

I continued with "hope you had a wonderful fulfilling day, honey. Come to think of it, I like that word; it implies being filled full with pleasure. Housewives at least have the opportunity to follow their whim while we poor guys have to work to bring home the bacon. But I for my part I don't mind."

I noticed some discomfort in her voice when she uttered a short "I have to wash my hands. Be right back."

When she came back I took her in my arms and hugged her. I stepped back and admired her again and asked her to turn around slowly. She had regained her composure but she deserved one more discomfort or worse.

So I dropped the bomb. "Love, I will long remember tonight, you are just so appetizing. I can hardly wait to eat you. But you really did not have to change, you could have kept your blue skirt on, it looks even better on you than the black I bought you."

Her pupils dilated and I grabbed her and almost dragged her to the couch. There was no resistance. I put her in my lap, hugged her and told her that everything was OK. Then I kissed her and slowly she started to respond.

Soon she was composed again and in control of herself. "How long have you known, how much do you know, how did you find out?" she wanted to know.

I kissed her again and told her about the night at the Grand Hotel. That brought a muffled, "oh my god, then you know George."

I nodded and comforted her by stroking her hair and hugging her more strongly. "No problem here," I assured her. "George and I have become very good friends. But he doesn't know yet that I am your husband and that fact should be good for a little fun with him.

In the meantime there should not be any change in our life. Let everything be as it was before today. Don't make any changes. I will tell you shortly why I say this.

I am sure you know the definition of prostitution: trading sexual favors for something of value, be it money, or fame, or advancement etc. It should be recognized as legal barter. Many wives use sex for concessions from their husbands.

The problem of today's society is that sex and love are considered the same; there is lots of love without sex and lots of sex without love. Furthermore, I believe that a woman should not be considered property of the male. She should have a life of her own and pursue any avenue of her liking without the husband getting in the way. Apply all this to your own situation and you can see my attitude regarding you working as a prostitute. I admire you for taking a step towards liberation regardless of Mrs. Grundy's opinion.

Now to your problem of a three week vacation with George. You and I will be together for a lifetime, you will have George for a limited time only. I want to see you happy because that makes me happy and since I know that you would love to go to Germany with your boy friend I suggest you do so. Enjoy Germany and enjoy each other."

Liolani did not utter a sound; she just looked at me with so much love in her eyes that it almost brought tears to mine. I moved her off my lap so I could straighten and then picked her up. I carried her in my arms, her arms tight around my neck, to the bedroom, where we reaffirmed our love with an abandon we never had experienced before. 

We must have fallen asleep exhausted because the bed covers were still in a heap on the floor beside the bed. I tiptoed into the kitchen to start our morning coffee and set the table for breakfast when a lithe warm body molded itself to mine and a rain of hot wet kisses showered my back, then my front.

Liolani's lips quickly found the object of her worship and wrapped themselves around the part of me she loved so much. She held it captive between her lips to savor the feeling of power she had over me. She now had taken complete control over a part of me, and it felt good. After she had finished her personal low calorie breakfast she let me go so we could take a shower together.

I decided to take the day off and phoned the office to tell them I wouldn't come in today. Then Liolani called George and after some small talk told him that it was time he took his girl friend out again for a nice intimate dinner. He obviously was in a good mood because he playfully apologized for having been so inattentive that his girl friend had to remind him of his duty. He called Jessica back after a while and told her that he made reservations for Friday evening at seven at the exclusive Robin's Nest. I immediately also called the Robin's Nest and made a reservation for one for Friday at 6:30. The trap had been set.

Friday evening I was seated at a table in clear view of the door waiting for Jessica and George. My double vodka martini on the rocks, complete with three olives, kept me entertained while I waited. Liolani is a stickler about being punctual and I hoped Jessica was too. I was not disappointed, they arrived on time.

I had seated myself facing away from the door. I heard the maitre d' tell them that a beautiful couple like they deserved a special table while he steered them to the spot I had asked him to place that couple. My ten dollars paid off. They seated themselves and less than 30 seconds later George saw me.

He came over to my table immediately to inform me, not ask me, he stressed, that I was to join him for dinner. At his table he introduced me to his girl friend Jessica, telling her that he had tried for four months to have his dear friend Karl meet Jessica. I made some sincere compliment to Jessica; - she looked absolutely stunning in her new evening gown. There was a palpable aura of happiness abut her. I was so proud of my wife.

After the waiter had brought our first round of drinks Jessica turned to George and announced that it was time to celebrate. George looked at her, his face a huge question mark.

She did not elaborate; she instead tuned to me and asked me how much George had opened up to me about what was going on in his personal life. Did he tell me that she was a married woman?

Jessica was enjoying herself, dragging out the suspense. But at last she couldn't hold back the news any longer and blurted out: "We are going to Europe, I talked to my husband and he said it was a wonderful idea, and that I should enjoy the trip and we should enjoy each other."

George was stunned. Then he reached out to take her hand and hold it for a long time. No one spoke, it was a silence of happiness and I participated. He finally spoke, but it was more to himself than to her. He wondered if he ever would have a chance to meet her husband. Then he said NO, I don't think I could meet him, I would be too self conscious.

"But tell me," he asked Jessica "Did he really say 'enjoy each other'? That is the most altruistic gesture I can think of. I wonder what moved him to say that."

"Just ask him, he will tell you. Just open your mouth and say "what moved you to say 'enjoy each other'?"

"Oh no, my dear girl, I couldn't do that."

"Sure you can. Just turn your head and ask him "What led you to say 'enjoy each other'?"

He turned to me, then back to my wife, then back to me again. Finally stammered: "Karl, are you rascal really Jessica's husband?"

I nodded "Let's celebrate."

After a short moment George came back to reality and started laughing with a roar. "Let's continue this charade as a private celebration at my place where all this started." He gave me a crushing bear hug and topped it off with a peck on my cheek.

After dinner we drove to George's home.  George and Jessica at obce went after the wine and some glasses. Then George, with Jessica trailing behind, showed me his home, winding up in the spacious master bed room.

"Our adventure started here," he announced, "so we might as well celebrate here."

We sat on the edge of the bed and I proposed a toast to friendship, Jessica proposed a toast to women's liberation, and George proposed a toast to tolerance.

My wife and I hugged and kissed each other, her kisses as always full of promise. I was prepared to be passive and just watch someone else pleasuring my wife.

I did not have to wait long. George made Jessica get off the bed and stand in front of him. He told her that he was going to take her panties off her,

"Take the hem of your gown," he commanded, 'look at me and smile at me while you lift your gown slowly until I say STOP. I want you to enjoy your embarrassment." He finally made her stop and ogled her, especially inspecting her lacy panties. When he was satisfied he hooked his fingers into the panties' waistband and started rolling her panties down very, very slowly, savoring every second. He told her to now look at her husband but did not allow her to lower her gown; instead she had to turn around slowly.

Next she was told to remove her gown and stand for inspection. She was still looking at me and I wondered if she was slightly embarrassed being commanded to obey his wishes in front of me. She was finally told to lie down on the bed.

While she stood for inspection George had quickly undressed. He looked at me questioningly but I remained were I was, enjoying the show.

George told Jessica to lie still. He looked at her for what seemed ten minutes but was probably more like ten seconds. He lightly touched her forehead and let his finger trace small circles. I watched his finger creeping lower to caress her eyebrows, then her closed eyelids. From there his finger mover to her temple where it danced for a while.

Her cheeks were next to receive attention and then his finger became a feather, tracing first her upper and then her lower lip, making three trips round. It was a very erotic performance, and I was wondering what the finger would do for an encore. It was replaced by a waggely tongue that wiggled its way up the edge of Jessica's ear lobe. This brought forth some suppressed giggles and a slight shake of her shoulders and head.

She was again remanded to lie still. After a while the tongue moved on to caress her neck, starting downward from her ear to her shoulder, moving in tiny circles. I could see that Jessica strained to keep still. Her breathing definitely was heavier now but she kept herself in check.

The tongue continued its way south until it reached the edge of Jessica's oriole, which by now had turned a deep red-brown, broadcasting her mounting excitement. I watched in awe as the tongue, circling around the territory caused Jessica's nipple to rise and become hard. I had always been like an actor on stage but now I was a spectator in the bleachers and the view was quite different.

I knew that my wife ached to have her nipple caught between a pair of soft lips while a tongue washed the tip of her nubbin. She squirmed in disappointment when the tongue moved on further south to explore her cute belly button. As the tongue tickled her belly button she could not help moving her body, which brought another reminder to quit moving around and lie still.

The tongue went back into its house and a pair of lips resumed the journey south, making small smacking and sucking sounds as they traveled over Jessica's tummy. I could see some belly skin ripple under the onslaught of suggestive sensations, suggestive of what might be next.

Her belly quivered slightly in anticipation as the lips stopped just inches away from her clean shaved pussy. Dud she experience enjoyment or torment I wondered, maybe a mixture I finally concluded

George's large hand suddenly appeared and moved her right leg to the side. A moment later her other leg was moved to the side and George positioned himself between them. I am sure I know what Jessica expected to happen, but it was not to be.

The lips started kissing their way down the inside of her thigh, down her leg till they arrived at Jessica's toes. The little one was visited first, then the remainder, each receiving a warm, wet kiss, except for the big toe that was greedily sucked inside George's mouth. Jessica started to quiver, small moans escaping her mouth and then, without warning, her pent-up arousal took over, pushing her over the edge. She lost control as her body took over. Her back arched while the first of three successive climaxes shook her, hammered her, made her cry out.

Her "AAAAHH" reverberated in the room and I am sure it could have been heard across the street... George had held on tight while Jessica struggled and kicked, until the last spasm of her third climax died away. He then wiggled himself  up her body, took her face between his hands and tenderly kissed her mouth, her nose, her cheeks, her eyes.

After a short while Jessica rolled him off herself on his back. Now it was her turn to torment him but instead she pleasured him by sucking on his right nipple, then running circles around it with the tip of her tongue, interrupting her play occasionally to give his nipple a complete immersion bath.

After she finished her treatment of both nipples she moved down between his legs to worship what she called 'my precious toy'. It disappeared at once in her mouth where it was caressed by her tongue. Next she started to move her lips up and down the shaft, making it disappear completely from time to time when she swallowed it down her throat. I noticed that she was careful not to stimulate him too much, she wanted him inside her.

As she positioned herself at the end of the bed and wiggled her ass as an invitation, he got up and then stepped behind her, his hard-on pointing straight ahead. She reached behind her and guided his dick where she wanted it. She must have been hot because after just a few strokes she hollered FUCK ME, FUCK ME HARD. I was shocked. The f…. word had never rolled off her tongue in my presence.

They fucked for maybe two minutes when she had another crashing orgasm. She flailed her arms from side to side, digging her fingers into the bed covers, she shrieked and hollered, and then collapsed under him.

After she finally calmed down she turned to George telling him that she wanted to take care of 'my precious toy'. Always the gentleman, he agreed with her and she kneeled down in front of him and started to give him the blow job he had earned. And being a gentleman he offered her a choice: cream pie, on the tits, or in your mouth. She had moved her head from side to side twice, but nodded 'yes' to the last choice.

Later, when we said our goodbyes, he reminded me again. "I have tried to have you sample my girl friend Jessica and tonight you had a chance but you blew that one. How can I make a living with a customer like you?" he laughed.

I promised to sample Jessica sometime when I happen to run across her near El Toro, room twelve.

JESSICA RETURNS FROM EUROPE
Call girl Jessica and her pimp/boyfriend return to hubby who had been well taken care of

The man and the young woman were holding hands as they were leisurely walking to the baggage claim area. Many eyes followed them, which was understandable. The man was tall and wide shouldered with just a hint of a distant black relative in his face. Most people would assume him to be about 45 years old, and they would be just one year off. His name was George.

The lady at his side could almost, but not quite, be called petite. She was slim and had the proud bearing of a beauty who is used to admiring glances wherever she went. And a most striking beauty she was, her glossy black hair framing an exotic face with a perpetual slight smile. Her coal black eyes had a trace of almond shape and always seemed to be twinkling in amusement.

When her husband had found her in Hawaii she had told him laughingly that she represented all the immigrants that had come to the Islands in the early days. There was a mix of Hawaiian, Portuguese, Chinese, and even a bit of Dutch coursing through her veins.

Their three-week vacation, I will call it that for the lack of a better word, was at its end. She had taken him along the 'Romantic Street' of Germany, strolling through some of these well preserved Middle Age towns. They had even made a long circle walk along the inside of the old wall that had encircled and protected Rothenburg. In the Plaza in front of the Cathedral in Cologne he had marveled at the imposing structure with its skyward stretching twin towers. In Hamburg they ventured to St. Pauli, the official red light district of this harbor city.

They had taken a boat ride on the Rhine river as well as on the Moselle. There they had visited several wineries to sample the superb wines of the region. On their drive through the Black Forest they had stopped to watch wood carvers producing the much coveted Black Forest Cuckoo clock. An exceptional beautiful clock had struck George's fancy and he bought it as a gift for a special friend he explained to the English speaking proprietor of the business. "I owe this man more than he will ever know," George added. "Through his unselfish altruism he had made our trip to Germany a reality."

Jessica had lived in Germany for a number of years after we married and before I emigrated to the US. She loved the old country. Showing it had given her immense pleasure, and he in turn thoroughly enjoyed having a knowledgeable guide. Having a stunning young lady at his side wherever they went was an added bonus.

As they were walking through the airport he turned to her, bent his head to bring his mouth close to her ear, and whispered: "I don't know how I can ever thank you two people enough. You two have filled me with joy and happiness as I did never believe existed."

Oblivious to the crowd milling around them they embraced and kissed, still holding on to each other a few more seconds after they broke their kiss.

An older couple seated in the waiting lounge of Gate 38 had watched with a knowing smile. After George released his companion, the wife turned to her husband to remark that this must surely be a couple on their honeymoon, in love to the gills.

She was wrong on all counts. They were not on their honeymoon. They were not husband and wife, and they were not in love with each other. The old couple would have been appalled and shocked had they known the truth.

The truth was that George was Jessica's pimp. She worked for him as a call girl and prostitute. Even the name Jessica was not her real name, it was her professional name she had selected for herself. Her real name was Liolani. And she was married. She also was madly in love with her husband, - and he in turn was deeply in love with his wife. Without his unwavering love this unique situation could not have come about. You should know this much about the players; now let me tell my story.

After Liolani had started working for George they eventually developed a fondness for each other to the point where George would refer to Jessica as his girlfriend. It was inevitable that I eventually would find out about my wife's secret. But being a stout believer that a woman should have the right to shape her own life to her liking, I did not intervene. In fact, my sex life had improved. Liolani appeared hornier more often than ever after she had started working for George.

On the fateful evening when I discovered that my wife was working as a prostitute, I happened to sit next to her pimp at the bar and developed a friendship with him. His name was George, and not knowing I was Jessica's husband, he spilled many details. I heard about George having won a vacation for two to Europe, how much he wanted to take his girlfriend along, and the quandary of getting Jessica's husband to give his approval. It would mean Jessica's other life to be divulged.

After I shook their little world by revealing my knowledge of that world, I explained my reason for encouraging Liolani to go on this 'vacation'. If a man truly loves his wife he should consider her happiness first. And when she is happy it stands to reason he would be also. And so George called me the most altruistic man he had ever met, and our friendship deepened.

The emotions therefore ran high as we three met at the baggage claim carousel. Liolani hugged me and kissed me with an intensity I had never encountered before. George gave me a bear hug and a peck on my cheek. Jessica and George could hardly contain themselves to share their experiences with me, who in turn could hardly wait to hear about their 'vacation'.

A welcome home dinner was waiting at my home and two chilled bottles of Moselle Spaetlese magically appeared. It was Samantha, George's nineteen-year old niece who surprised us with Beef Stroganoff, boiled parsley potatoes, cauliflower in a white cream sauce, plus some Chinese lichees for dessert. Samantha was immensely proud of herself, and rightfully so, that everything had come together perfectly. Her Beef Stroganoff was excellent. It was her first Stroganoff and I was impressed again by this young lady.  Even her choice of wine impressed me. She obviously had listened when I had been talking about wines in general and German wines in particular.

The four of us retired to the living room after dinner for a glass of after dinner Tawny Port. It was story telling time. Liolani, ever the bubbly conversationalist raced to the front of the conversation with the usual preliminaries, then stopped abruptly and urged George forward, claiming that it was his story, and therefore his to tell. He rendered a day by day account, starting with day one.

"That evening we were absolutely bushed. We fell into bed utterly exhausted, we slept like logs," he claimed. This was a huge understatement. Sure it was true that they were exhausted, and also true that they fell into bed, and also true that they slept like logs.

But knowing my wife, and knowing George, and knowing how they related to each other, my mind had no trouble filling in the blanks between 'fell into bed' and 'slept like logs'.

The scene flashed before my eyes at once and I saw Jessica and George in a tight embrace that said: FINALLY ALONE. They kissed with tongues outdoing each other as to who could do better. There was no time to gently undress each other. Instead of slow kisses and nibbles along her throat and down the valley between her breasts his mouth hurried to reach her nipple. His tongue lashed out to swipe across it again and again until it was almost painfully hard.

Only then did George open his lips to engulf as much as he could of her pert tit. His right hand had wandered along her spine and finally came to rest on her light ass. Now he could pull her even closer. She wiggled vigorously in an attempt to assist him in this venture. But soon George was eager to undress Jessica and broke the embrace. There was not much to undress. He told her to lift her arms, grabbed the hem of her short dress and with one experienced motion it went up over her head and then landed next to the bed.

Now Jessica went to work. She opened his belt buckle, zipped down his trouser fly and unceremoniously pushed down his pants. She was in a hurry to get at the portion of him with which she had fallen in love. She was so e