Jason

"You know, some days I just can't believe you!" I said to Leslie, my girlfriend.. "You want me to approve your going out with this other guy, this Bright bastard..."

"He's not a bastard, Nick!"

"OK, so maybe he's not even bright, but I don't even know the . . . guy . . . and you want me, sight unseen, to say, 'OK, Leslie, have a date with Mr. Jason Bright, just because he's got you all sexed up?'"

"He doesn't have me all sexed up, as you so crudely put it, Nick. He's just a very interesting fellow I met in Philosophy class, and we got talking . . ."

"He's a 'fellow,' is he?" I put all the nasty inflection on that word that I could.

"Oh, shit, Nick, he's a man, damn it! You keep this up and you are really going to get me angry!"

"Well, can I at least meet him?"

"Yes, certainly, you're invited, too! He told me he wanted to meet you in the worst way."

"What . . .the hell does that mean, 'the worst way?'"

"I don't know, but he wasn't drooling or anything, Nick. Now behave and get dressed. You can't come to dinner in your skivvies, you know!"

"Come on, Les', you're wearing a camisole and no panties, and you're on my case? OK, love, let's do it."

We got dressed to the nines — I didn't know it then, but I deep down wanted to impress this Jason character, and as it turned out, I did, in a funny sort of way.

Now, Leslie and I made an "odd couple," but we'd been together for three years, pretty solidly a pair until the dinner with Jason Bright and its aftermath.

I still don't know what got us two together, but something clicked one day in a restaurant, we looked at each other, I walked right over and asked her for a date, she locked eyes with me for a moment, she smiled, and we kept on from there. I don't know why, I told you.

Anyway, I'm five feet four, not so bad a bod', I'm not dumpy or anything. Leslie's five foot seven, and in heels a bit more. As I said, she's got a good figure, 34C-24-34 and weighs about 118, last time I peeked around her at the scale — she purely hated for me to do that! When we first went on dates there used to be a bit of the "Got a new mascot, Leslie?" but that soon stopped when our friends understood that we were a definite couple.

Leslie was great in bed and out of it. Sometimes when I'd come home from work — I do free-lance contract and consulting work for a big construction company, bookkeeping and the like — she'd be waiting with a cool drink in her hand, stark naked. Naturally, she'd strip me bare as quickly or as slowly as she felt like that day while I playfully tried to get to the drink, which she'd placed on a table near — but not too near — the door. Having won the "battle" for the life-saving fluid, I'd sit down and sip the drink, teasing her while my cock got rigid. Then Les', her head on one side, looking at my throbbing cock, would say something like,

"Your brain's all in your gonads, you male, you," and I'd answer,

"Maybe, but what matters to you is right here," waving my drink over my glans, "waiting for you."

Silly games, I know, but I think we were in love with each other. Except that we seldom fought, and that over silly things, too, we might have been married. I wish we had been.

At any rate, as we started out to go on this 'date" with Mr. Jason Bright, Leslie told me to drive to Le Coq d'Or, one of the ritziest and most expensive restaurant-bars in th city. I was shocked and amazed — to tell you the truth, a little bit frightened, too. Who was this guy to be spending so much, for even an unkept reservation at "The Cock" (as we all called it) cost an arm and a leg? Jesus! He certainly outclassed me. I could maybe take Leslie there twice a year — a good dinner with tips and parking could run over $250.00. Well I figured, what the hell. We'll eat and drink — easy on the last — on this guy Bright, and let it go at that, I hoped.

Leslie looked as excited and scared as I was, but she put on a bold front as we walked into the lobby from the porte-cochere where the valet had taken the car — Crikey! That was going to be a twenty-five buck fee and a $10.00 tip for sure! Her arm in mine helped me to steady myself, and we looked a proper couple, if slightly mismatched, me in my tux, she in her strapless, well-filled, dark blue shiny gown. Les' had on a couple of beautiful pearl dangles and a pearl-and-ruby ring, a set that I'd saved a lot to get her for her last birthday.

Mr. Bright — it could have been no one else — stood by the maître d' and actually beamed at us. His smile and rubicund face looked like the sun rising over the Pacific seen from some peaceful atoll, and I wondered how I had come up with that simile?

"Miss Carr, Mr. Petty? So nice of you to come this evening." To the maître,

"Le caviar tout suite, s'il vous plaît, maître, avec du vodka aussi? Ça fera bien pour l'aperitif."

God, this bugger peaks fluent French, too?

As we walked, Leslie on the arm of Mr. Bright, me trailing just a bit, he turned and said over his shoulder,

"I seldom 'bugger,' Mr. Petty. I prefer the female sex. Yes, I speak French and Italian and Spanish . . . I essay Portuguese, because it is similar, but not exactly cognate, with Spanish."

My face must have been flaming red by the rime he calmly seated Leslie, and I sat down with an apology forming on my lips. Then — Damn it! The man hasn't heard me say a word!

"No, I haven't, but then, Mr. Petty, do you think I need to?"

What was there I could say? I apologize for thinking you're a bugger. You're a wizard, is what you are!

"Miss Carr, you must think me out of my mind, this one-sided conversation I'm having with your friend. Please do not worry, you're quite happy to have dinner with me, and you no longer need concern yourself with Mr. Petty. I am that, by the way, Nick!"

I was about to say what I thought of that idea, but then my tongue and my thoughts seemed to decelerate to a very, very slow idle, and I was slightly startled to discover that I was eating I knew not what while I saw, but it was no concern of mine, that Jason and Leslie were making lively conversation. Although I seemed to be exchanging inane remarks with Bright, at no time did Leslie either look at me or address a remark in my direction.

At the end of the meal, of which I had eaten everything and tasted not a smidgeon, Jason rose and we rose with him.

"Leslie, you and Nick will come home with me tonight. We have a few arrangements to make. Nick, drive your car, following me. I will take Leslie with me."

I followed Jason's car , not really thinking at all, which was odd, and we drove maybe forty miles into the desert east of the city. At a ranch gate we turned off the highway and went for another ten miles before there was any sign of anything except brush and some cattle. Then there was this long low building , and we drove right into it! There was a ramp and I followed Jason's Town Car down, parked my little Honda beside it and got out. I stood there until Jason, with his arm around Leslie, his hand on her right breast, said,

"Come along, Nick, we have an engagement to keep."

I remembered vaguely that Leslie had a certain way of walking when she was horny — after three years of even casual observation, you learn a lot about a partner — and she was walking that way now, her legs a little apart as though her quim were too hot to enclose. My God, I could smell her!

We entered an elevator and I just stood there, dumb, while Jason and Leslie began to make out. He had her breasts out of her dress and was licking and kissing on the nipples one after the other while his hands were under the bottom of the dress raising it up so that her panty-less, shaved crotch was exposed. She must have been hot, for she was moving it against his fingers as hard as she could.

I knew that I had an erection, I could feel it rubbing against my undershorts. Jason turned to look at me for one moment, murmured something and my erection began to feel really good while it changed to a wide bulge in my trousers. I couldn't help myself, I rubbed it lightly.

"Don't want the distraction, Nick. You'll not need that, anyway."

Although there was not a thing I could do about it, I thought that Jason and Leslie were going to go all the way right there in the elevator. Before the door opened she had both legs around his thighs, humping her pubes into his obvious erection. It was certainly a long, long ride, but at last we stopped and we debouched into a dimly-lit hallway.

"This way, m'love," a half-dressed Jason murmured to a more than half-naked Leslie, and although I heard him, and I once would have been very upset, I was beginning not to care about anything. I was more interested in Jason's pecs and abs, for he had taken his shirt off when he had undressed Leslie down to her bra and shoes, which was all she still wore. I could see, with not much interest, that she was pretty damp between her thighs, and I felt something in my belly stir in sympathy. I would have thought that by now I would surely have had a raging hard on, but I couldn't feel anything save for that lump and a tickle somewhere below my belt. My pubes felt rally good, though. I rubbed them again.

As the two of them started down the hall, Jason turned again to me and beckoned me to follow them as far as the first door on the right, then indicated with a gesture and a phrase that I was to enter, undress and lie on the bed. He and Leslie disappeared from my ken as I entered.

I must have lain there for several hours — days, maybe? — but I'd lost all sense of time so I could not tell. There were various odd things happening to me — for one, I did not need to use a bathroom the whole time, however long it was — and I was unable to look down or to move my arms or hands except to reach to the adjacent stand for the strange but tasty fruit and the thick drinks that occasionally appeared there. Soon after I lay down, but before the drink and fruit appeared for the first time, I found that I was semi-reclining, my back supported by something padded which put me close enough to vertical that I did not choke as I swallowed the drink and fruit.

All the time that I lay or half-sat there, first my feet, my legs, then my belly, my chest, finally my face and head, felt as though there were little people tickling me, using utensils harder than feathers, maybe the edges of sharp knives or razor blades, scraping them up and down and back and forth, nibbling at me. There was no pain, but the tickling was at times so intense that I thought I'd either ejaculate or pass out. There was a tiny element of pain, just enough that I knew I was being messed with in some way. I could feel my pecs gradually swelling, while my balls and penis felt as though they were glued together into one lump, a positively creepy feeling, and I tried to see what had happened, but I could not bend my neck.

Some time a lot later, Jason appeared suddenly while I was munching on a particularly delicious fruit, the name of which I never learned.

"How are you feeling, Nik'?" he asked, smiling at me. My heart turned over. This gorgeous man was speaking to me? Yep, that was my name. My crotch twitched and I tried to rub my lower belly, but I could not.

"Nikki, I think you're well enough now to get up and assume your duties. Do you know who I am?" I shook my head.

"Well, that's no real matter. Here's something for you, though, Nikki, that you'll like a lot. Here . . ."

I found that I could move once again. I turned toward him and the man was holding his long, thick, rigid tasty-looking prick right in my face. There was only one thing to do. I took it in one hand and tasted the precum glistening at the slit, the rounded glans all shiny and bare, throbbing faintly as I inserted it, oh so lovingly, along my tongue and into my throat. It tasted so good, and the precum was helping him slide into me.

I had a sudden thought — he was a man, and I was a man? Why was I doing this?

"Nikki," this tasty, hard-cocked man said softly, "let me slide out and I will tell you something."

I let him slip slowly from my throat and mouth, and looked up at him as I asked,

"I didn't know I liked being gay."

"Does that bother you, Nikki?"

"It's just, perhaps I cannot serve you as well as I should."

"Oh, Nikki, dear Nikki. Take me again, and you may pleasure yourself as you pleasure me, Nikki."

I slid that gorgeous weapon into me again — what joy, a strong feeling of loving desire filled me — and then, as he'd said I could, I felt for my penis, certain that from the way I felt, it too was a rigid bar extending out from my belly. There was no penis! My fingers felt for a second, and there was that rounded mound, soft and enticing, with just behind it a little button of flesh and a slit. The button made me twitch all inside, and I moved my hips as I felt moisture oozing from between the lips of the slit. I put a finger, then two, into myself and rubbed as I continued to suck cock, sliding my head back and forth as I slid my fingers in and out.

I felt the man's cock pulse and then I was swallowing his cum. Less than a moment later I had to withdraw my mouth from him so I would not bite as I climaxed myself. His cock pulsed and spouted into my face and I licked his goodness off the fingers of one hand while I raised my other fingers to taste myself. The blended taste was marvelous.

"Nikki, do you remember Leslie?" asked the nice man.

I didn't, so I shook my head. I was feeling my crotch, and there was a lot of wet, sticky cum there. My mound was big, I knew, pushed forward a bit so that it looked as though I had an erection when I stood.

"Never mind," he went on, "she'll teach you what else to do and show you a few things that maybe you don't know, yet. She's gained a lot of experience since she's been here. I think you'll like this place."

Well, I knew that I certainly liked him! What a hunk. My belly kind of spasmed and my quim still felt all sloppy as I got off my knees and stood, facing him.

"Look in the mirror, Nikki, see who you are. Oh, here's Leslie, she'll help you all she can."

A medium tall girl, wearing only tight shorts, entered the room and she came to me around the hunk's form, sliding her hands over his back and smiling at him and at me. I wanted to kneel to her at once so that I could lick at her crotch, but she shook her head in a small negative, and I remained standing.

"Did you introduce yourself, Jason? Never mind, I shall. I'm Leslie, by the way." She looked at me.

"This, Nikki, is Jason, our host and protector. We depend on him for many, many things, so don't disappoint him."

Lordy, I didn't want to disappoint the man in any way at all. As a matter of fact, my mouth was starting to water as I thought again of that lovely cock and what it might feel like up my quim. When I looked at Leslie I thought of the quim she must have between those pretty legs and I got wet all over again.

"Nikki, you'll want to have a session with Leslie before you come to me again.

"Now, Leslie, show Nikki herself in the mirror, and to let her see all of herself you can use this smaller mirror."

I saw that there was not only the huge mirror on the door of the wardrobe, but a slightly smaller one which Leslie had picked up. I went over and for some reason bent back as I squatted, until one leg was almost doubled beneath me, my quim facing the mirror. I looked at me, while Leslie held up the other mirror in back.

There I was, nude, a red haired floozy, my dyed hair every which way, slightly droopy boobs, good waist, my pubes a pure-D bare mound that itched. I could see my quim lips below that, damp looking. That was the effect of the hunk — Jason — but when I looked around he was gone, and Leslie was asking,

"Hey, wanta look at your ass?"

I looked and it was nice, as saucy in a whorish sort of way as the rest of me. I'd already taken a good look at my face. I saw that I had full lips fixed in a pout, a round, pretty but sorta vacant face, with heavy eyebrows, a real mop of hair going every which way.. A real cheap looking bitch, a "moll," was what I was, and that's exactly how I wanted to be for the hunk, Jason. Leslie was better looking, maybe not with my floozy shape, but nice. I must have said something out loud.

"Yeah, you've got the idea, Nikki. I'm his class, you're his ass. He likes to switch from time to time, but don't expect him to take you to the really classy joints. You're for the beer joint mood, the fuck-me-on-the-backseat mood. You'll like it, though, and we're here for each other when he's not in any mood for either of us. Sound good?"

"Yea, sure does. Say . . . Leslie, did I ever know you from before?" My voice had a real nasal twang.

"Before what?" Puzzled.

"I . . . dunno. I thought there was . . . I'm wrong, I guess, but I could a sworn that there was a time we knew each other." Though I doubted it, having said it.

"Well, let's get to know each other now, eh?"

She sat naked on the bed, leaning toward me so that her red hair fell forward to just above her round firm breasts. She had lovely areolas, one of them had a little mole just above it. I placed my rosebud mouth on one of her nipples and sucked. She moaned and held the back of my head lightly. My eyes caught a glimpse of her pubic hair, and damn me if that wasn't red as well, so she was a for real redhead! I didn't bother with the color of her hair just then, though, 'cause I wanted to try what I was certain would be a lovely taste, her quim juices. I looked at her real sexily, wriggled a little bit and lay back on the bed, licking my lips. She didn't take long to accept my obvious invitation.

Her lips behind that pubic mask of red were bare, she shaved often I guessed, or they wouldn't have been so smooth. Soon I had Leslie jerking her hips and sliding her quim spastically along my tongue so I could tickle her clit. I explored her soft but quickly distending labia, too, and they were silky smooth. I felt like asking her how, but I was too busy with her juices, for my manipulations were bringing her to climax.

She thrashed above me, and I held her ass to keep her still so I wouldn't lose any teeth. I felt as though I was close to an orgasm myself, and I straightened up after several more tender and lingering kisses on her quim. She was still moaning and twitching her ass as I kissed her deeply on the lips. Her mouth opened wide for me and she murmured something when her own taste hit her.

Leslie was almost as good as I with the cunnilingus, but she couldn't quite hit the hot spots on me the way I obviously could on her. That didn't bother me in the least. Come to think of it, nothing much seemed to make either of us worry about anything. If something started to bother either one of us, we'd spill it at once, and Leslie would chuckle,

"That's because all we are is the ass, baby doll, and the class . . . and that's all we have to worry about, babes," she'd say, and I'd laugh and agree with her. It didn't make a damn to me, I was happy as a clam in a sandbank, even if when Jason next showed up he took Leslie out to dinner and said he'd see me in about a week.

But . . . that week later!

First of all, I was supposed to wear this little baby-doll nightie, and Leslie did my hair up on top of my head. The nightie was way too small-on-purpose, so that by the time I had walked to Jason across his room where he lay on the bed, my boobs were out, my nipples were almost hurting from desire, my quim had to be twitching — leaking, too, I wouldn't doubt — and my mouth was watering as I looked at Jason's lovely, lovely dick standing there waiting for me.

"Do you want me to kiss you, Jason?"

"Kiss me where you want to, baby doll," so I engulfed the rigid thing and found that it was no more difficult to get int my throat than the previous time. I was on the bed between his legs and bent way over, so that I could have a pretty straight line from the back of my mouth down my throat. It tasted so nice, I let it out a bit, just as slowly as I was trying to suck it in, and licked almost at the end, then all around his glans. I must have hit a really sensitive spot, for Jason yelled,