It started simple enough. I heard the Hilton industries were tearing down a local bar I worked at. The bar was being torn down because the brought the mayor. The next day it was somehow claim a disator area when we never had a promblem befor. The mayor was clearly payed off. We started a protest. It haulted the destruction. That was when I met them. The Hilton sister. They ask to see me and talk. They wanted to works thing out. At a dinner both of them hit on me. I figure it because they like. I am big and black and pretty attractive for a working class slub. My penis is pretty huge not to brag. Most girls probally can't take it. Of course didn't know for sure. I was a virgin because I got shy around women. They were charming. I almost forgot about the protest.
Tonight, as we are both pleased with my progress, Andrea has suggested we have a 'date.' A few drinks, a club, a taxi home; all the elements of a nice, civilised, girlfriend/boyfriend evening. However, I have a feeling it won't be entirely mainstream.nnI meet her in the bar below the flat; she's dressed very differently to usual. A long, dark bias-cut skirt, a white, patterned, long-sleeved, figure hugging top, strappy sandals with a low heel and a jade green silk scarf tied at her neck. Her hair is up, in a bun, revealing a slender and attractive neck; a long, dark frond hangs down across her left eye, making her toss her head sensually from time to time. I am instantly hard for her; the blend of such outward stylish respectability with the utter depravity of her true nature is a heady cocktail.nnWe position ourselves on two stools in a small, dark cul-de-sac at the end of the bar. It's early on a Thursday evening so the place is fairly quiet, though not completely dead. She told me to leave my underwear at home and I am wearing a long-sleeved T-shirt and some old & very baggy cargo pants. They have an added advantage- a seam at the gusset, which has started to come undone, leaving an opening of a couple of inches.nnWe probably look like a standard, off-duty professional couple. At a glance, her arm appears to be around my waist but her hand is down the back of my trousers, and I slide back on the stool, allowing her access to my pre-lubed anus. Within seconds, she has four fingers in, and is surreptitiously, but vigorously finger-fucking me. nnWe lean towards each other, outwardly smiling at some banal joke or day-to-day anecdote. An astute lipreader would get a different impression, though, as she says "that's it, you little slut. Open up and push back for me. Keep smiling sweetly for the people! Ooh, (her eyebrows raise) you're nice and open today- been playing, have you? Don't need to answer that.
How would you describe Max Westmore? Enigmatic. Max was a high profile lawyer, the head of her own firm and very good at what she does in the courtroom. Her reputation of being able to stare directly into the eyes of the dependent, making them feel as if she could look into your soul, caused many to reveal their guilt. After answering her carefully worded questions, suddenly, they would find themselves like an insect stuck on a pin, wriggling desperately only to find themselves impaled on their own words. Some of her colleagues nicknamed her "The Spike". Others erroneously referred to her "The Icicle" because of her seemingly cold demeanor in the courtroom. Not one to socialize, Max could be found many a night working late in her office. That was the way Max preferred things.nnNot to say that she never went out, she kept a small, but, very close circle of friends. It was well known that Max was 'a woman's woman'. Though she never officially came out, she never denied her preferences. What she abhorred was being labeled. She was not a gay lawyer, a lesbian lawyer or a woman's lawyer. She was a lawyer, just a lawyer.nnI first saw Max when I was covering a story for the newspaper I was working for at the time. Average height, ash blonde hair neatly coiffed into a twist, dressed in a tailored suit that accentuated an hourglass figure. She wore smallish dark framed glasses that hid the most incredible blue eyes. In fact, when I had to ask her some questions I found it difficult to look at her, it was like looking into ice blue water encased in glass. She must have thought I was a complete idiot as I stammered my questions.
It is Winter 1966. When five couples find themselves stranded at a remote high class inn by extreme weather conditions, they amuse each other by relating stories of an erotic nature, as well as taking part in all kinds of private and group sexual activities.nnThe Host began with a tale about a birthday orgy involving a current top film star. The Theatre Company Manager's tale was of her oral exploits with a famous actor and the Marketing Director's tale of how the 'Wife of Bath', with her daughter, had seduced a whole management team. The Politician's tale was about the husband's revenge, and the Model's tale about a country girl finding heaven between her legs - with the aid of her vicar. For the morning story of the fourth day, The Stockbroker's Tale showed how two resourceful women turned the tables on their partners who were trying to deceive them, whilst the Aristocrat's tale was about a sexual orgy, incest and murder in the stately home.nnChapter fifteen: The TV Presenter's tale. The African AmbassadornnAfter the enactment of Enid's fantasy of a gang bang in the harem of a Sultan, and the story about the stately home orgy, Julie persuaded Enid to end her special day of sexual excess by showing the guests her party trick. Although she remonstrated at first, Enid eventually agreed.nnJulie placed a large cut-glass bowl in the centre of the coffee table, inviting the guests to arrange themselves round it. Enid slipped out of her robe, got onto the table, squatting over the bowl. The guests all peered eagerly at the exposed vulva, for no matter how often she had displayed it to them, everyone was anxious to examine it again. As they were every vulva!nnEnid was fairly tall, with sloping shoulders and small rounded breasts, set close together on the front of her chest, with almost girlish pink buds for nipples. Her hips were slender with prominent thigh bones, and between them, the sparse light hair covered her flat mound. The outstanding feature of her vulva was the surprisingly large clitoris, now obvious in all its glory between the squatting thighs.nnThe small puffed lips, ridges of brown-coloured flesh, did little to hide the pink valley with its main passage clearly visible, though protected by small buds of flesh. The other small slit was clearly visible below the clitoris. The labia started just below the clitoral hood, running down each side of the central valley, meeting below the vaginal buds.nnEnid pulled her outer labia apart, looking down into the bowl.
