by Kazam
(1/26/00)
So it was the usual story. Here I was, a student, living in Nottingham, and broke.
So everybody knows what this was like, I had blown my grant cheque in a couple of weeks on some very worthwhile drinks and a nice jacket from Next. Mother would approve.
I had a job delivering pizzas, but you know, I needed that little extra, and I was scanning the classifieds idly hoping to find some thing easy.
Well, here was something! I discovered an intriguing advert dealing with a subject which all guys must have considered at one point or another. The advert said simply "sperm donors needed" and a contact number. I went through all manner of agonisations, before picking up the telephone receiver, which felt like lead in my hand, and dialing the number.
"Hello, Christine here," a scarily normal woman's voice said at the other end.
"Calling about the, urm, advert in the paper..."
"Ah! Fantastic. Can you come over this afternoon, and we can discuss things?"
Heart pounding in relief and head swimming with muzzy dizzyness of a, you know, sexual kind, I took the address, and arranged to pop over there straight away.
Well, the house was a regular semi on the outskirts of Nottingham. I rang the bell, and the door was opened by a woman who wore her 40 years with sensual maturity, and clothed her body in a pale kimono with dragon patterns chasing around her.
She invited me in, and we went through to a sitting room which was redolent with the warming smells of incense and hung with ethnic tapestries. There was a Chinese screen in the corner of the room, and in the centre there was one of those large animalskin rugs, which still have bits of the animal attached. This was laid out before an unlit fire.
in the next 20 minutes, Christine explained to me that she was a masseur, and that as well as the normal variety of Shiatsu, Swedish and other types of massage, she practised an ancient Egyptian form of massage which was reputedly used by Cleopatra. Cleopatra, it was said, even kept a cohort of the finest physical specimens from her praetorian guard maintained by virgin priestesses always on hand for precisely this purpose.
The type of massage, named after the poisonous Asp snake, involved the massaging of various herbal preparations into the skin. The base which was used to dissolve the herbal concoctions was, Christine told me without batting an eye, human sperm. The phrase hung in the air. She said that she had tried using animal substitutes, she found that the quality, both texture and smell, of human sperm was hard to find elsewhere. Especially prized was the sperm from young men in their early 20s.
With this, she fixed her gaze on me. I was 22 and she smiled when she saw my heart beating in my throat, and my gaze darting nervously from her deep brown eyes, to the little row of Buddhas on her mantle piece.
"I would like your sperm, and I will pay £10 each session. It has to be provided fresh for each session. What do you think?"
Gulping some air into my lungs, I felt a little faint. "Sure, sounds fine!" I said, turning bright red.
Christine smiled, and laid a reassuring hand on my knee, which made me jump. Surely she was not going to get it now?
"I actually have a client coming in about 30 minutes. I was just getting things ready for her. Do you think that you could stay for that? If you would like to change, you can go upstairs to the bathroom, where you will find some things."
Standing in the shower, I turned the heat up and up as high as I could take it. I needed to get back inside my head. My skin was crawling with excitement and life, Steam surrounded me, and I let the water cascade down my nose, and into my mouth, to trickle from the edges. My hands were at my cock which had been raging within my trousers since I had got there, and was now enjoying a gentle squeeze and release from attentive hands. Not yet though! Not yet! I smiled as I thought of what was coming.
I had dried myself off, and slipped into a kimono similarly patterned with chasing dragons which was hanging on the door, and made my way downstairs with trembling steps.
As I came through the door of the sitting room, I noticed that there was someone else sitting on the sofa. He was a young boy of about 18, and similarly dressed to me. Christine was lighting candles and subduing the lights, putting on some of that new age music. Looking around she smiled sweetly at me, "Please, take a seat" she gestured to the sofa and I sat next to the boy, who grinned sideways at me.
Presently, there was a knock at the door, and Christine ushered a petite young woman with a bouncy step and a sporty looking tracksuit into the room. They were talking, and I studied the client's profile, which was clear and sparkling. Her hair, cut in a bob, bounced as she went to the screen in the corned of the room, apparently to remove her clothes.
The fire had been lit, and I sat in perfect contentment as orange fingers danced around wonderfully moulded branches, that were emitting a cherry smell. In my hyper-sensitised state, I could see the flames as hands caressing lithe thighs, bellies, necks, wrists.
The client came from behind the screen, and held her body with ease and confidence as she stepped towards the rug before the fire. She had not acknowledged our presence, but the tone of her body, and her confidence seemed geared to having a maximum impact on the two young men squirming on the sofa. Her firm and athletic beauty, the way she was put together, and moving. This was a body which had been tended with great love, and which was now going to be provided with the ultimate in the knowledge of the ancients. A recipe of Cleopatra herself, and we were going to be a part of this!
Suddenly, the thought of Cleopatra, naked in her palace whilst lines of men were milked by devoted virgin priestesses, filled my mind. I sank back further into the sofa, observing Christine take up her position next to the side of the client, who had lain on the rug with her feet towards me. I had a wonderful view of her buttocks, which she seemed to be clenching and easing especially for my torment. Christine slipped her robe from her shoulders, and knelt with her back to the cracking flames.
She knelt next to the prone figure lying face down on the rug, and took some dried leaves from a sandalwood box beside her. Christine was more substantial than the client, and as she powdered these leaves between her palms, the lines of her muscles rippled along her forearms, and the dense black hair which cascaded over her shoulders caught the glow from behind. Having ground the herbs to a fine powder, she deposited them in the small of the client's back.
With an imperceptible nod of her head, she summoned the boy next to me to step over towards her. My friend stood up and, as if sleep-walking through the heady fumes of the room, moved across to stand in front of Christine. She reached to the belt holding his kimono closed and tugged it open, and brushed the wings aside to reveal a small but perfect bonsai erection. The boy's cock made up everything it lacked in size, with enthusiasm for its role. It danced and pulsed, with a life of its own. The boy shrugged the kimono off his shoulders, and it slid down his back to reveal his terse torso. Christine gently reached forward to cup the boy's cock in her hand, at the same time raising a questioning look to his face. The boy was fine though! His eyes shot to the ceiling on first contact, and a light gasp escaped his lips as his hips started thrusting into the palm of Christine's hand.
For a moment, it looked like he was going to fall, sagging sideways as Christine's hand began to slide back his foreskin with almost imperceptible movements on the raging cock. She stabilised his hip with her free hand.
From my place on the sofa, I had a perfect view of what was going on, being seated just beyond the client's feet. My brain was almost blowing a fuse! I was seriously worried that even the gentle rasping of the light kimono fabric across the head of my cock would be enough to make me cum, and I could tell that the boy was way closer than I was!
Yeah, his eyes were rolling, and his hips were wobbling more and more. He really looked like he was going to collapse, but then a rigidity ran through his whole body as his hands grasped handfuls of Christine's hair. I could tell what was happening, and my own body shuddered in sympathy. This was the first time I had been able to see another man cum, and it was amazing to see the white droplets leaping from his cock and gathering in the palm of Christine's hand, which was waiting at its tip.
As the final spasms wrenched through his body, the boy collapsed, all his weight coming down onto Christine's shoulders, whilst she made some final practised grips on his relaxing cock, to squeeze out the last of his cum. He was well and truly done!
Still naked, he staggered blindly back to the sofa, where he collapsed next to me, his hand cupped wistfully over a deflating cock.
Christine had carefully pooled the fluids with the little pile of herbs in the small of the client's back, and then with practised and deft movements, she began scooping up the mixture and following invisible lines around the back. Then she covered broader areas, until the whole of the client's back was glistening in the firelight, and the room was thick with the smell of exotic herbs and cum.
Watching her work made me realise what a master she truly was. No move was wasted, the strength in her fingers was beyond doubt, as the toned flesh of the client moved like foam rubber beneath them. She was using some force to get to the deep tissue, and the client was emitting groans, both voluntary and involuntary. Time passed, and soon every inch of the clients back and thighs and arms had been explored. Satisfied with her thorough job, Christine tapped the client's back to indicate that she should turn over. I was hit by a surge of panicky excitement. I knew that my turn had come.
Christine turned to me, smiled and nodded. As if in slow motion I stood from the sofa, vaguely feeling a pat of encouragement from my friend behind me. In one movement, I released my kimono, letting the dragons chase each other down my sides to lie in a pool around my feet. My body felt good, alive. My cock bounded into the room, unrolled and making its presence felt. I stepped over to face Christine across the belly of the client, where she had prepared my little pile of herbs on the clients unbelievably flat belly.
"Do you want me to?" Christine asked, and I smiled and shook my head. No, I could do this myself, and it would be a pleasure. So Christine sat back on her haunches, and waited for me to prepare the harvest. My eyes lost focus in the guttering fire, as I delayed the moment. I raised my hands to my chest, and began sliding them down slowly rib by rib to my belly, and then on to where there goal stood shaking with anticipation.
My right hand got there first, and snaked along the shaft to the tip where a large glistening drop of pre-cum was waiting. My index finger ensured that this was circulated around as much of the glans as possible, before clenching the shaft, pulling firmly back to allow the glans to burst moistly from my foreskin. I had begun a movement that had only one destination.
I looked down to see my cock nestled between the fingers of my right hand, my left clenched between my thighs; the belly of the client, her eyes half open, lazily taking in the scene; Christine, smiling with her eyes on the dance my hands were doing, her own fingers slyly close to her own black pussy; the boy on the sofa, masturbating lazily; the fire fizzing quietly, like my head.
My hand speeded a little, and I slouched down into my hips, riding my hand as it sunk upwards into my crotch again and again. The hand of the client creeping across her thigh, seeking out her own pleasure. Christine becoming a little more obvious with her hand movements. My head spinning, the client crying a little, me wanting to be inside her, to lay Christine gently down beside her, to take her, to take them both, to ride the client with Christine at my back, her pussy against me. I took myself a little faster, it was building within me, things were sharp as razors, the sight of Christine's mouth slackening, she slips sideways and comes to rest on her hand, permitting her to spread her legs a little more, the client's whispering hair stranding across her face as her head rocks back and forth, now her hips are bucking up off the rug and into her own fingers, as if her pussy is trying to reach the cock suspended in space above her.
"Christine!" I whisper urgently, and her eyes focus on me, drunken. Not long now! She sits up hurriedly and leaves her own pleasuring unattended for a while. She cups her hands before my engorged cock, but too close so I lean forwards to aim down a little, but not enough! With a rushing in my ears and an exultation on my lips my cock bucks and flings forth cum which flies beyond her hands, and slaps into her breasts, leaving a milky way patter across her breasts. More builds and I can keep pumping several more times the sticky goo vomits forth from the eye of my cock, and this time they catch her hands, where she is building up a good pool. The client meanwhile, is going for it! There is no way that the massage can continue until she is through! so Christine and I relax onto our haunches and wait until she reaches her pinnacle.
Well, that was that. Christine went on to smooth my cum into the gorgeous body of the client, who after having cum herself, was able to resume her pose of inanimacy as if nothing had ever happened.
When the massage was over, she left with only a discreet smile on her face to let on that anything untoward had happened. Christine saw her and the boy off, and as soon as the door had clicked shut, she came back into the sitting room and threw herself at me, pausing only to shrug off her kimono again.
Well, it was nice! She plastered me down on the rug, and I was inside her before we hit the ground! It was more amazing that even after all that, she still insisted on giving me a tenner, and we made another appointment for a few days further on. Whether there will be a client there or not remains to be seen!
OK, this sort of work is it is not going to make me a rich man, but there are more important things than wealth! And ever since this, I have always been very curious about housing estates with large numbers of anonymous semi detached houses...
