Her pussy tasted of latex

Last Monday, Boris phoned me out of the blue and said he wanted me to go on a trip with him. I said I couldn’t, that I had my classes to teach. I told him I couldn’t wreck my whole job, just to go on a little jaunt with him.

Despite how I knew how little he likes me to talk this way I said, “Who do you think you are, just turning up like this and demanding I go away with you?”

“I don’t demand it, I just know you would enjoy it.”

You fucking bastard. That’s what I thought. Then I phoned up the YMCA and cleared my schedule for the week.

“Where are we going?” I said when I met him at Heathrow that afternoon.

“You will see.”

Turns out it was Prague.

I returned from my jaunt on Thursday night. I hardly slept while we were there, and it was hard to stay awake during my Friday session with Dr Butler.

“Do you still have that dream, you know, the one about the butterlies?” she asked.

“Yes, occasionally.”

“You really loved your father, didn’t you?”

“Yes. I can’t imagine any man being able to replace him.”

“So you go from man to man, looking for your dead father?”

“Yes, I suppose so.” At last she’s getting me. I know all that, though. It doesn’t stop the fact that sometimes I feel like I am trapped in a white box, gasping for air.

“Is Boris like your father?”

“My father didn’t demand anything of me. Also, my father was hardly ever there. When he returned from his trips, he lavished me with presents.”

“Have you seen Boris recently?”

“Yeah, I went away with him for a few days.”

“What did you do?” She’s sucking her pencil, obviously gagging for some juicy details.

“What do you think we did?”

“I can’t imagine.” Her tone is, well, it’s almost flirtatious.

“Let’s see, I tell her. There was one night where I was in bed with three other men (one of them was Boris). I was astride one man, his cock inside me, the other had his cock up my arse, while I sucked the third man off. It was almost a spiritual experience, I felt so filled up and sated. I could have stayed like that for ever.”

“You talk about sex as if it were a religion.”

“It is a religion. People think it’s about people using people for their own gratification. But in a purely sexual encounter, you don’t ask for anything, only that someone gives of himself sexually. And when it is about getting pleasure, giving pleasure, an energy starts to flow. A healing energy. It’s hard to explain, unless you’ve ever done it yourself.” I look up at her and smile. “I assume you haven’t?”

“We’re not here to talk about me.”

“I know that. I just wondered if you could relate.”

She shifts uncomfortably in her chair.

“What else happened in Prague?”

“There were lots of drugs about, but I don’t take drugs, that’s one thing I won’t do. There was a lot of laugher, a lot of dinners. There was a session in a dungeon where we all dressed in black leather and whipped each other. And then, I don’t know. All the different sex parties have become blurred. It ended up being too much sex for me to handle.

“One night Boris picked up a prostitute and paid her to have sex with me. That didn’t really do it for me. She knew all the tricks all right, she was panting, like she was pretending to have a good time. But it was all a fake. How do men fall for it? I knew she wasn’t enjoying herself, wasn’t into it, so in the end, I just concentrated on giving her pleasure.

“I ran my tongue over her clit, ever so gently. She tasted of latex. I wondered how many men she’d fucked that night. I prized open the lips of her pussy and pushed my mouth in and sucked the whole thing up, like prizing open a juicy mango. Oh, it was so good! I feel turned on just thinking about it. I pushed two fingers up her arse and moved my fingers rhythmically until I felt the faintest tremor.

“I looked up at her, splayed on the bed. Boris was watching us from the corner. He was so quiet, you wouldn’t even know he was there. She was really getting into it, bucking against my mouth as I pushed a finger into her pussy and rubbed her front wall in tiny circular movements, harder and harder.

“She moaned something in Czech, I reckon it was something like, You Bitch, and I moved on top of her and ground my crotch against her wet, splayed pussy. We just rubbed and rubbed. I knew it wouldn’t get her off, I just enjoyed the sensation of our cunts grinding together, all slippery wet and causing little lightening bolts of pleasure to pulse through my clit. Then I sucked her nipples, they were big and deep red, on large, firm breasts. I was enjoying myself. I felt just like a man, somehow. Boris sensed this, I guess. In any case, without me saying a thing, Boris came up behind me and fitted a strap on around my hips.

“The prostitute opened her eyes wide, with shock, but I told her to relax, and lifting her legs onto my shouders I pushed the big black rubber dildo deep inside of her. Mmm, it was so exciting, watching her pleasure reflected on her face. I could have stayed there forever. But it looked like she was dying to come, so I fucked her, moving the dildo in and out of her pussy in slow strokes. Then I stood up at the foot of the bed, and rubbed her clit as I fucked her hard. Once. Twice. She was done.”

Once I’d finished the tale, I looked over at Dr Butler. Her mouth was slack. Her eyes were glazed. Oh yes, that little bitch was definitely turned on.

“I think we’ve run out of time,” she eventually managed.

You should be paying me, you silly cow. I could just imagine how, as soon as I left, she went off to the toilets to wank herself off.

And I’m meant to be the repressed one! I was laughing about it all the way home.