Primal Urge free porn video

 

Prologue

The term “Primal Urge” brings up various sexual connotations. Acclaimed science fiction writer, Brian Aldiss, penned his science fiction novel titled “The Primal Urge” in 1961. The novel was a satire on sexual reserve where society had to wear headbands known as emotion registers. These emotion registers glow when the wearer experiences sexual attraction.

Another definition of “Primal Urge” is, “The measurement of the animal side of a lycanthrope.” A lycanthrope is a delusion in which one imagines oneself to be a wolf or other wild animal when it comes to having sex; the higher the urge, the higher the delusion. Throughout the ages, man has always fantasised over women when it comes to sex; what position to have sex, how much force to use and what sexual aids can supplement the act. This story is indeed one about the “Primal Urge” or men behaving badly.

Story

I was born and bred in a small country town in Victoria, Australia. My primary and secondary schooling were attended at a small country town named Yallourn (an aboriginal name meaning, brown coal). After completing my Year 12 (Matriculation year) in 1980, I left the country to study journalism at the University of Melbourne the following year; at the tender age of seventeen.

My parents were relatively poor and I did not have any scholarships to help me financially through university. Adding to my financial woes was the fact I had to find accommodation somewhere in Melbourne. Preferably, the accommodation needed to be in the inner suburbs thus making travelling by tram an easy way to get to university as I had no car. After much searching, my choice of accommodation was a shared arrangement with two other women who had rented a house in South Yarra. We each had a separate bedroom and the place was clean. My house-mates were Gayla, who was twenty-four; and Stephanie, who was in her mid-forties.

Just prior to starting my first class, I found a part-time job, waitressing at a trendy restaurant in nearby Chapel Street. Working Friday and Saturday nights were ideal as the work did not interfere with my lectures or my study habits. The weekends are a busy time for Melbourne restaurants and the money I earned paid for my accommodation and living expenses. The tipping from the wealthy customers was the cream on the cake. These tips were more profitable than the lowly wages paid by the establishment.

In late November 1982, just having successfully completed my second year at university, the restaurant was burned to the ground. Two rival gangs fighting for territorial supremacy saw the restaurant torched in the early hours of the morning. Without a job, there was no income; facing me with the possibility of not being able to pay my rent. In a depressed state and crying on my bed, I was approached by Gayla.

“Tracey, what’s the matter? Is anything wrong?” Gayla asked in an understanding way.

Looking up and still sobbing, I replied, “The restaurant where I work was burned down last night and now I do not have a job to help pay my rent or schooling.”

“That’s terrible Tracey, what are you going to do now?” Gayla replied in a concerned tone of voice.

“Gayla, I have completed my studies for this year and don’t start again until the end of next February. In the meantime, I will look around every day for a job.”

Over the next two weeks or so prior to Christmas, I searched for hours looking for part-time work; all to no avail. With my money running out, I needed to find work badly. I went home and stayed with my parents for a week leading up to Christmas and enjoyed having Christmas with them and my brother. Between Christmas and the New Year, I returned to my dwelling in South Yarra. On arrival, I was greeted by Gayla as I entered the house.

“Hi Tracey, welcome back again! Did you have a good time at your parents place?” Gayla asked.

“Thanks Gayla, I had a really great time there. I also caught up with some of my old friends as well. Now I need to look for work again before my money runs out,” I replied.

Gayla contemplated for what seemed an eternity before replying, “I know where there is a vacancy for a job, if you are willing to take it. It is entirely up to you if you accept and I am not meaning to offend you in any way with my offer.”

“What is the job? What does it entail?” I sheepishly enquired.

“You have known for almost two years that I work at a gentleman’s retreat called The Gentle Touch. This place is a massage parlour which provides a luxurious customer service to men who want to be pampered and looked after very well. Some narrow-minded people take a dim view of this profession, while others see it as a very therapeutic and necessary outlet for many people from all walks of life.” Gayla explained.

I can still recall those words uttered from Gayla’s mouth. I froze at the time, while trying to comprehend what she was offering me. She was asking me to prostitute myself. With my heart beating at around 200 beats a minute I said to myself that I have enjoyed sex in the past with several guys. Is it all that bad to have sex with someone and get paid as well? It was then that I decided to sell myself to the Devil!

I knew she worked in a massage parlour, which was really just another name for a brothel. Gayla said she could most likely get me a job there if money was an issue. The Gentle Touch, where Gayla worked, was registered and advertised as a massage parlor. By law, in the State of Victoria, prostitution was illegal at that time. By advertising as a massage parlor, clients could safely enter the premises on the grounds that they were seeking a therapeutic massage. What happened behind locked doors later was negotiated between the girl and the client.

Gayla spent some considerable time with me that afternoon and evening, explaining the ropes of the establishment and how it worked. I was informed that basically three types of women work in the sex business. Firstly, there are many women who are drug addicts. The money earned through prostitution is used to support their expensive habits. Secondly, women like myself need money to survive. Many workers in the trade are single parents who have to pay rent, buy food and bring up a child. Prostitution is the only way of achieving a better life for their offspring. Finally, there are people like Gayla. Gayla works to save money very quickly as she has three goals in life: buying a new car, spending time on a long holiday in Europe and saving to buy her own house.

Before committing myself to this part-time work, Gayla filled me in with some background history of the place. The Gentle Touch was established in the late 1960’s and was owned and run by criminals. It was situated in the St Kilda Road district which was infamous for its red light establishments as well as street walkers. The original owner of The Gentle Touch was a guy named James Kelly. One of Victoria’s most notorious criminals at the time, Kelly was also involved in drugs, illegal betting operations and other organised crime activities. James Kelly met his demise on January 20, 1977 after an unknown assassin from a rival gang, gunned him down after leaving his home that morning.

I was no virgin as I had lost my virginity after watching a movie at the drive-in theatre on my sixteenth birthday. I had had sex on numerous occasions after that. After accepting Gayla’s offer, she brought me in to The Gentle Touch massage parlour to meet the manageress the following day.

On meeting the manageress, she virtually reiterated what Gayla had told me. I learned that The Gentle Touch had some twenty rooms which were mostly occupied at all times. On arrival, after negotiating with the manageress; a client is greeted by up to twenty scantily clad females in a dimly lit reception room. After making their choice of girl, they are then ushered into a private room. A typical room consisted of a shower, massage table, double bed and a bubble bath. The Gentle Touch also had a common sauna room which was shared by the clients.

Clientele covered a broad spectrum of people. They included: Businessmen, politicians, school teachers, guys going through a rough marriage and missing out on sex at home, single guys needing to get their rocks off, and an occasional woman who was bi-sexual or lesbian. There were also some really old guys who were lonely after their wife had passed on. I felt really sorry for them as they rarely asked for sex, but just wanted company for half an hour or an hour.

The worst clientele of the lot were the corrupt cops. Several cops on the take would come in on a weekly basis and demand free sex and pampering. If the girl refused, they would be threatened with a charge of prostitution. If the management objected due to complaints by the girls; the place would be threatened with closure, as it was a brothel and not a massage parlor.

After hearing the spiel on how the business ran, it was then time to get some practical lessons on how to massage a guy and please him; making sure he would return for further pampering. The manageress suggested to Gayla and me, that we both work together in the same room for the first few nights under her guidance. This way, I could learn the proverbial tricks-of-the-trade.

As it was now early January, I had some six weeks until university recommenced for the first semester. I wanted to work full time (around five or six nights a week), until university studies took priority. After that, I could work every Friday and Saturday night or an occasional Sunday as well.

My initiation with Gayla was both eye-opening and rewarding. I now felt that I could manage on my own. Over our allotted eight hour shifts, we both got laid three times; the clients opting for both the thirty-minute s and hourly sessions. Each of the clients was well behaved and well mannered. With the training sessions now complete, I was left to my own resources and charm.

To the best of my recollection, my first problem client came as a bit of a shock some three weeks later. After finishing off with one client, I was asked to present myself in a parade before another prospective client. This particular guy was tall and sinewy, with a distinct scar on his right cheek. Apart from that, he was quite well dressed and had above average looks. I learned later that he was a regular visitor at The Gentle Touch and often referred to as Scarface. Scarface chose me from the customary parade and after introducing myself to him, I took his hand and led him to a vacant room. I introduced myself as Cinnamon (my working name) and learned that his name was Alan. Soon after locking the door, my first nightmare began.

I asked Alan, “Would you like to have a bubble bath with me, or take a shower first before having a massage?”

His gruff and crude reply was, “Take off those brief panties you are wearing and show me your naked body.”

I disrobed and presented my naked body before my client as he started to disrobe before taking a shower.

“Cinnamon, you have a wonderful furry box and amazing tits. I have never seen you here before,” he replied.

I took that as a compliment and replied by saying, “I am fairly new here and have only been working for three weeks. Do you come here very often?”

“I usually come here once a week, sometimes twice,” Alan replied.

“You must like it here then Alan. Do you have any favourite girl?”

Giving no answer to my question, Alan turned around and went to shower. In the meantime, I got some towels and a bottle of fragrant oil ready for what I thought would be a simple massage followed by some sort of sexual relief.

“Would you like a nice relaxing massage now Alan?” I asked.

“No Cinnamon! Let’s go straight to the bed where I can lie back and you can suck my cock until I blow in your mouth.”

Alan’s demeanour was changing rapidly and I was soon getting out on my comfort zone. I waited for Alan to lie back on the bed before starting to roll a condom onto his cock using my mouth.

“No Condoms! I want you to taste my cum and swallow it,” he angrily retorted.

I nervously replied, “I can’t do that Alan, it is against house rules.”

Alan testily replied, “You had better do as I say or I will have you arrested for prostitution. I can easily have this place closed down if I want.”

Feeling vulnerable, I stammered, “Who are you? Are you a cop or something?”

“Not are you only drop-dead gorgeous, but you are smart as well. Take a look in my back trouser pocket on the chair and see my badge if you don’t believe me. You are nothing but a common whore, a dirty revolting slut,” Alan menacingly replied with an evil grin on his face.

“I don’t want any trouble Alan; let’s just get this over with and be done. Okay!”

With that settled, I performed oral on Alan until I could feel his body tighten. Alan’s orgasm was building up and soon his body started to convulse. About to shoot his first load of hot cum down my throat, he grabbed my head and held it tight over his rampant cock; making sure I could not pull my head away. The powerful force of the first squirt went directly down my throat, which was followed by a second and third contraction. I kept sucking as the remainder of his cum oozed out of his already deflating cock. He then pushed me off him before lying back on the bed to recuperate.

“Fuck that was good Cinnamon; where did you learn to give head like that?” Alan enquired as he was still trying to get his breath back.

Barely thirty minutes had passed during the one hour session. Although butterflies were active in my stomach, I tried extremely hard not to show my displeasure or nervousness. For my own safety, I thought it prudent that I should take some initiative for what might follow in the remaining time. Some five minutes later, I took the bull by the horns, so to speak.

“My wet pussy needs a good tongue lashing Alan; are you man enough taste my juices,” I teasingly purred.

Climbing back on the bed, I straddled his chest in a sixty-nine position. Positioning my damp pussy on his face enabled me to suck on his limp cock to make it hard again. Wiggling my butt on his face soon had the desired effect. Alan’s cock was again rampant and ready for action. Responding to my actions, Alan started tonguing my pussy out and he soon had my pussy juices trickling down his cheeks.

Alan then arose and pulled me to the end of the bed where he entered me from behind and started fucking me doggy style. I could feel his hardness entering and leaving my pussy in rhythmical thrusts. While fucking me hard I could feel him starting to finger my butt hole.

For my own satisfaction I said to him, “Use some pussy juice on my butt Alan; that will make it easier for entry.”

On cue, Alan fingered up some of my juices and slowly circled his moistened index finger around my butt hole. The slow circular motion started to relax my sphincter and soon his finger was anally fucking me as we screwed.

“I need you hard cock inside my ass Alan, FUCK me in the ass!” I demanded.

My butt was now primed and ready for entry. I could feel the head of his thick circumcised shaft pushing hard, trying to gain entry to my forbidden hole. I could feel the head slowly entering before stopping and slightly withdrawing. Another thrust got Alan’s hard cock further inside my tight asshole. After withdrawing again slightly, his next thrust expedited his cock to fully enter me. I gasped at this new sensation, something I was unaccustomed to doing. While anally fucking me, I slipped two fingers into my dripping wet pussy. I could feel each thrust of his cock through the membrane wall separating my pussy from my asshole.

All of a sudden, Alan grabbed my waist tightly as he started to convulse and orgasm. I could feel his hot sticky cum squirt inside my asshole. I could not reciprocate and orgasm myself which was a pity but I had conquered Alan. I had beaten him at his own game. As Alan headed for the shower cubicle, I sat on the bed with a towel between my legs. Catching the oozing cum from my butthole, the towel absorbed my victory as well.

On finishing his shower, Alan started to get dressed. I also showered and cleaned myself out to look respectable for the next client. Before ushering Alain back to reception he passed what could be interpreted as a compliment.

“You are a slut and nothing else. Mind you, you are a bloody good slut. Next time I will fuck your brains out and show you who the boss is.”

Alan then departed and I got ready to parade before another potential client. That was a wasted hour in my life as he neither paid the manageress nor did he even pay me one cent. I felt used and abused by the guy but at least I survived to see another day.

Word soon got around the traps that I was working at The Gentle Touch, so I must have been doing something right. Just prior to resuming university, I had my own clientele which was growing fast. Businessmen went through the manageress and liaised in having me attend their sexual desires at various hotels and motels in Melbourne. This was the beginning of my escort work.

The minimum booking was for an hour but quite often bookings were made for between four and six hours. Half the money went to management and half to me. I really enjoyed being wined and dined or escorting a guy to a show before fucking his brains out. Doing business this way meant that the guy could not be seen at a place of ill repute, so his reputation and integrity could not be questioned. The guy’s wife is invariably led to believe that the husband is attending a business meeting and will be home late that night.

Once university commenced for my final year in late February, I only worked two nights a week. By then, I had an excellent clientele and my services were in demand via word of mouth. Many of my clientele were generous tippers. I could earn up to a thousand dollars a night for my services. That was a lot of money some thirty years ago.

By early June, I had completed the mid-year exams and about to start my semester break. It was in this break that I had my most unexpected and rewarding experience in my life. On this particular day, I was rostered to work on afternoon shift from midday to 8:00pm. The manageress phoned me at home around 10:00am that day, asking if I was available to attend a special function that evening at the Embassy of Germany in Punt Road, South Yarra. She said that one of the politicians that I service regularly had recommended me to one of the state government ministers, who in turn, requested that I attend.

“You are one of a privileged few Cinnamon, to get these special requests. Should you accept the request, you will be picked up by a chauffeur around the back of the parlour around 5:00pm. The minister stated that your presence is required for the entire night and you can leave after kitchen staff have given you breakfast. The normal fee for such appointments is $4,000 where you get to keep half.”

I thought about the offer for only a few seconds and eagerly accepted the Embassy’s invitation. I was also told to wear an evening gown, which was appropriate for the occasion. All day, my brain was ticking over, wondering what to expect and how I should act. I felt really flattered in being accepted for such an invitation or request. Amazingly, the location of the German Embassy is in very close proximity to where I live. I never even knew it existed until I was told of my offer.

I told Gayla about my booking for that evening and overnight stay at the Embassy. Gayla was overjoyed to learn of the offer and was so happy for me.

In reply, Gayla said, “You are a very special young woman Tracey and you have adapted exceptionally well to your new profession. You certainly have friends in high places and your invitation is no doubt due to your disposition, diligence and the natural way you interact with your clients. I have no idea what you will have to do there but I am sure you will handle yourself professionally and with dignity.”

That day, I arrived at The Gentle Touch around 4:45pm, just in case the chauffeur was early. I spent my time waiting by chatting with the manageress who complimented me on my appearance.

“There wouldn’t be a guy in the world that wouldn’t fall for you Cinnamon. You look ravishing in your evening gown,” the manageress quipped; before wishing me the best for the night and following morning. Precisely at 5:00pm that afternoon, the chauffeur discretely entered the building from the rear entrance.

“Please follow me miss, the car is out the back,” he beckoned to me.

On exiting The Gentle Touch, I saw a Rolls-Royce Silver Spirit awaiting me in the car park. Ushering me to the back door of the car, the chauffeur opened it and waited for me to enter and take a seat. Awaiting me in the back seat was a government aide. After fastening my seat belt, the driver started the motor and we were on the way to the German Embassy.

The aide filled me in with the purpose of the invitation but not so much as what my role there was. The Victorian Labor Government was building two new coal fired power stations at Loy Yang, not all that far from where I lived prior to going to university. While the infrastructure had already commenced with the building of the power stations, the proposed open cut mine was still in the proposal stage. Two dredgers were required to initially dig out the overburden before digging the coal to burn in the power stations. This meeting at the Embassy was during the tender stage of the process, to see who wins the contracts to build the two dredgers. Krupp and Siemens had already built dredgers for the open cut mines at Yallourn, nearby. Both of these German companies had submitted an expression of interest in winning the aforesaid contract.

As well as determining the principal contractor for building the dredgers, there were also various companies vying for the positions of subcontracting to the winning contractor. The German Embassy was involved in a diplomatic effort to win the principal contract’ with the state government finally deciding who wins the contract. Talks had been going on all day; with tonight being primarily a public relations or goodwill get together. The government aide informed me that around ten gentlemen will be there for dinner tonight.

The trip to the German Embassy was only a short one that took about ten minutes. Turning off Punt Road into the driveway saw a large wrought iron gate ahead. The driver stopped to press the button on the intercom, commanding someone to open the gate for us. The driveway was about eighty yards long; leading to a double story, white brick mansion with a red tiled roof. I was overawed, having never seen such opulence in my life.

As the car stopped at the front door, the chauffeur alit from the car and opened the back doors. The government aide and I alit from the Rolls-Royce and were ushered inside the German Embassy. I was greeted by the politician that saw me on a regular basis at the massage parlour.

“Hi, Cinnamon; welcome to the Embassy of Germany. Please follow me into the lounge and take a seat. The meeting with the German Ambassador, Premier of Victoria and others are still in session. I expect the meeting should finish reasonably soon. Can I get you a drink?”

“No thank you, I will wait until later,” I replied.

Looking around the room, I was overwhelmed by the interior decorating of the building. The lounge and dining rooms were enormous; decorated with expansive paintings and other ornaments. Surely some of the paintings were painted by the great masters. Lying back on the soft leather couch, I soaked up the grandeur and opulence of this palatial residence.

Just after 6:00pm that evening; the Ambassador, the Premier of Victoria and six other gentlemen entered the lounge. I was introduced to all the players who were tendering for the Loy Yang project; in the construction of the dredgers to be used in the open cut mine. Initially, I felt a bit overwhelmed and intimidated by being the apparent centre of attention or attraction. Another observance was that there were no other females present at this dinner function.

Precisely at 6:30pm, a waiter entered the room with a tray of cocktails. I settled for a “Japanese Slipper”, a Midori based cocktail with Cointreau and lemon juice. The ten gentlemen and I were in constant chatter until the chef arrived and ushered us into the dining room. The dining table was long, with a leather chair at each end and six leather chairs on each side of the table. The Ambassador was at the head of the table with the Premier of Victoria and his Minister for Power nearest him on each side. The Premier’s Aide was seated beside the Premier and I was seated, facing him. Beside me was the politician who visited me regularly at the massage parlour.

After digesting an entrée of hors d'oeuvres, a main course buffet followed. Finally, a wide range of exotic desserts were provided for us all. The meal was the best I have ever experienced and the occasion made me feel like Eliza Doolittle from Pygmalion; the poor girl who rose to prominence in society.

At around 9:00pm, after our meals had digested somewhat, my regular client politician whispered into my ear that we should leave the table and head upstairs to one of the five bedrooms on that floor. Each of the bedrooms had its own ensuite with a shower and toilet.

On entering the bedroom, my client said to me, “How have you enjoyed the night so far, Cinnamon?”

“I am a bit overawed but I just love this place so much. Thank you for recommending me to the Minister and the Premier,” I replied.

“I need to fuck you so badly right now as I am so horny looking at that great body of yours. I must warn you, however, that by the end of the night, you will have serviced all of the gentlemen at the table.”

I said to myself, Holy Shit! I knew there had to be a catch somewhere. My client then approached me from behind and unzipped my evening gown. Pulling apart the thin satin straps then enabled gravity to let my gown fall around my ankles. David (not his real name for legal reasons) then turned me round before holding me tight and kissing me full on my lips. I had never permitted that from clients before but this seemed different and appropriate for the occasion.

Turning me around again and unclipping my bra sent it in freefall to the plush carpeted floor. David then picked me up and carried me to the bed where we kissed again. Lowering his body down on mine, saw his tongue flicker around my nipples that soon responded and hardened. Rubbing my pussy through my cotton lace panties soon brought a rapidly increasing damp spot to them.

Lowering his body further, David climbed off the end of the bed and removed my panties. He then pulled me to the end of the bed and then spread my legs wide before going down on me with his tongue. I was soon primed and lubricated enough to accept his already hard cock.

Oddly, I asked myself if he treats his own wife the same way as he is getting me horny. Flipping me over and raising my butt a little, David slid his rampant penis deep inside me, thrusting like a giant battering ram trying to break down a castle door during a siege. David’s primal urge was now in full flow; there was no stopping this beast with his animalistic thrusts. David always preferred mounting me doggy-style and tonight was no exception. I could feel him slowing down as was customary for him when beginning his orgasm. True to form, his body tightened and his cock started to convulse. Moments later, his cock erupted like Mount Vesuvius, spewing out hot wads of sticky cum, deep inside my pussy.

David then turned me back over and kissed me again. I then fellated his cock to drain out the last remnants of his cum inside his still rigid shaft. As time was the essence that night, we quickly headed to the shower to refresh. I needed to clean myself out and apply some makeup before accepting the next guy.

Next in line to enter was the Premier of Victoria himself. The Premier was a bit apprehensive about having sex with a prostitute; afraid that he might catch a venereal disease which would be hard to explain to his wife. He wanted to see me strip slowly and tease him a bit and to savour the moment.

Looking down at the crotch of his pants, I could see it had some effect on his manhood. Soon naked, I reclined back on the bed and beckoned him to disrobe and show me what sort of package he had. Not wanting to fuck me, the Premier requested that I masturbate for him while he himself masturbated. Soon hard, I took the next step in fellating his uncircumcised cock; sending him into a utopian rapture. I soon learned that his wife would never do such a thing and this was the first time he had been given a blow job.

“When you cum sir, where would you like to deposit your cum? Would you prefer on my face, in my mouth, or on my breasts? You could even cum over my pussy where I could rub it inside me,” I teasingly asked him.

Momentarily coming out of his trance, he requested to shoot his load over my pussy. Before long, this new experience for him took control over his body functions as he deposited several streams of cum on my hairy pussy. With my labia fully open and my tunnel of love fully exposed, I rubbed his cum deep inside me.

After sending him on his way, I freshened up and prepared myself for the next guy to come in. This guy, who was an executive for Siemens, was an enigma. He also had a fetish of some sort. Best described, he was rather short, early fiftyish at a guess and had a paunch. From his request, he was most likely into B&D. Although uncomfortable, I agreed to let him disrobe me and then blindfold me with his handkerchief. I also had to kneel on the bed and let him bind my wrists behind my back with a tie that he found in a wardrobe. This executive’s excuse was that he had notable physical scarring and was embarrassed by his appearance.

The executive disrobed as I was uncomfortably positioned on the bed. My head rested on a pillow while my knees were resting on the bed, leaving my butt high in the air. I felt him climb on the bed and then his body encased mine from behind. Soon he was spanking my buttocks before parting my legs wider, enabling him to explore my inviting pussy. Firstly, he fingered my pussy to get me wet again. This was followed by him rimming my butt-hole with his tongue. As more saliva was applied and I started to relax my sphincter, his tongue eventually found its way deep inside my ass.

Momentarily pulling out of my ass, his tongue was replaced by his hard cock which my body allowed him to penetrate. The executive then set about rhythmically fucking my ass. With one hand on my buttock, he used his free hand to finger fuck my pussy as well. Being tied up and blindfolded I could only picture what he was actually doing. Before long, the guy started to make some animalistic grunts as his pace quickened. I braced myself for the expected squirts of cum that would soon follow. His ensuing orgasm deposited several loads of hot sticky cum deep up my poop tube.

In conclusion to his fetish, he untied my hands as well as removing the blindfold. All that thrusting inside my asshole trapped a lot of air, causing me to uncontrollably fart. Semi-translucent bubbles were seen coming from my ass which was quite a sight to see.

The next hour saw another three guys playing out their primal urges on my available body, which was merely a receptacle for their hot sticky cum deposits. With time passing quickly but running out, I suggested to the sixth guy that he send three guys in together for a gangbang. I had never had the opportunity for a gangbang before but had always imagined what one was like. I was always open to one on the proviso that I was in control. I also needed to be reassured that there was no danger to me or any violence involved. I didn’t fancy being raped.

After showering again for the umpteenth time and applying more makeup, I was ready for the gangbang. When they entered the room together, I was awaiting them naked on the bed. The three guys were the government minister, the aide that accompanied me in the chauffeur driven car, and the Australian Krupp manager. The guys were very eager to fuck me but were not willing to mess with each other. Once that protocol was agreed on, everything was ready to commence.

To begin with, I got all of us on the bed together. Systematically, as though on a processing conveyor line, I started to give head to each of them in turn. While sucking on one guy, I kept the other two guys hard with use of each hand. I felt like a juggler in a circus trying to get the position and timing just right. I then applied some KY jelly to both my pussy and around my butt hole to make the rear entry more accommodating and comfortable.

One guy knelt towards the head of the bed, facing the end of the bed. I knelt in front of him and started to fellate and deep throat him. The second guy was beneath me and lying on his back with his legs hanging over the end of the bed. He entered me and started pumping his piston-like rod inside my pussy. The third guy, standing at the foot of the bed and facing the head of the bed, then started to finger my raised butt. After relaxing my sphincter and allowing an easy entry, he inserted his cock in my butt and started fucking me doggy style.

The most amazing thing about doing this is the feeling of both cocks in both holes at the same time. The membrane wall between the anus and vagina can sense both cocks rubbing against each other with a layer of skin in between. I was hoping for the perfect scenario where all three guys would cum in synchronisation, each unloading their cum into an accommodating hole at the same time. The guy I was deep throating at the time cum first. Although trying to pull out and cum on my face, I held him tight so he could not withdraw his cock. His cum finally depositing directly down my throat. Only the oozing remnants needed to be swallowed.

Several minutes later, the guy beneath me said he was about to cum. I urged the standing guy, who was fucking my butt, to try and cum as quickly as he could. Some thirty seconds later, both guys were orgasming in unison; filling both my holes with their hot jizz. After the guys withdrew their cocks from my body, I spread my legs wide at the end of the bed. The three guys then stood in front of me and watched in delight, as two cream pies started to slowly ooze from my butt and ass.

One by one, they showered and left the room to go back downstairs. When they were all gone I showered and freshened up the best I could for the last man standing. I was expecting the German Ambassador to appear, but to my dismay, David knocked on the door and asked me to come back down to the lounge. Dressing quickly, I left the guest room and walked back down the stairs to the lounge. Unsurprisingly, most of the guys had already departed and gone home to their wives or girlfriends. There was just the Ambassador, David, and the chauffeur remaining.

Reinhardt (not his real name for political and security reasons) came up to me and asked if I was able to stay the night. The time was already after 1:00am and I had the choice of being chauffeur driven home or staying the night here with Reinhardt. Standing face to face with him in the lounge, I smiled at him and gave my reply.

“I would be honoured to stay the night, sir,” I replied.

With that, Reinhardt commanded the chauffeur to take David home and to come back in the morning at 8:00am sharp. After their departure, Reinhardt suggested we go upstairs and go to bed. I was in no position to say no, so I let him put his arm around me and accompany him upstairs to the bedroom. Walking past the guest bedrooms, we arrived at the master bedroom at the end. Reinhardt opened the door and ushered me in. I was in awe at the size and décor of the room; it was fit for kings and queens and other world leaders.

At that moment, something snapped in my brain that made me feel uneasy. Strangely, I had not seen his wife present all night. Where was his wife? What would happen if she walked in on us screwing together?

“Excuse me please, sir,” I said; before he cut me off.

“Please call me Reinhardt,” that is my name he replied.

I nervously enquired, “Where is your wife and will she be coming back here tonight?”

“No sweetie, she is staying at a friend’s place tonight and will not be back until late tomorrow morning; so you have nothing to worry about,” he assured me.

Knowing that women leave distinct odours with perfumes and body scents, I asked, “But won’t she smell my perfume or sense something happened last night?

His response was, “Look sweetie, my wife and I don’t sleep together; we haven’t for quite a while now. When we get back to Germany in around eighteen months’ time, she will be seeking a divorce. To have her here is merely a front for diplomatic reasons. Venetia, my wife; sleeps in one of the guest rooms.”

With that explanation out of the way, we both began to undress each other, before standing naked in front of each other. Looking into his eyes, I could see a very lonely but proud man.

“Cinnamon, is that you name? I have embarrassingly forgotten it,” he whispered to me.

I told him that Cinnamon was my working name but Tracey was my real name. He replied by saying he loved both names but Cinnamon was a more exotic name. Reinhardt then held me tight again in his arms and kissed me gently on my lips before kissing me again with a little more force.

On breaking out embrace, Reinhardt removed the bed cover and pulled back the sheets which were made from pure silk. Picking me up in his arms, Reinhardt gently laid me on the sheet before getting into bed beside me.

“How did you get into this type of business,” he quizzically asked.

I told him about coming from the country and had to move to Melbourne to study journalism at the Melbourne University and that I was in my last year. He also learned from me how the café where I was working, to make ends meet, was burned down. Reinhardt then realised that I had no source of income. Knowing the reasons why I was in this business, purely for survival, was comforting to him.

During our friendly but informative chat, I also learned that Reinhardt had not had sex for nearly a year, something that made me feel very sorry for him. What happened after that was not for show, but two lonely people together in the right place at the right time.

Reinhardt’s wife was from the old school, old fashioned in her ways. To her, sex was for having babies and nothing else. There was never any love there in their relationship, especially from the wife. I couldn’t imagine a guy being denied sex just because his partner didn’t want it.

For the next hour we fucked passionately and emotionally. I was able to give Reinhardt sex in positions he had never dreamed of, let alone oral sex as well. After fucking ten guys that night, I was totally exhausted and somewhat sore. After kissing Reinhardt goodnight, I curled up in his arms and fell asleep. Around 6:30am that morning, Reinhardt awoke me by kissing my nipples and running his fingers through my hairy bush. Opening my eyes, I saw his eyes looking into mine. Smiling, he leant forward and kissed me on the lips.

“We have time for a little sex if you are up to it, before breakfast is ready,” Reinhardt whispered.

Although still stiff and a little sore, I told him I would be delighted to have sex again. I taught him how to eat pussy and how to stimulate a woman’s clit to drive her wild with desire. He eventually came hard inside me using the missionary position. We then showered together before getting dressed.

Going downstairs to the dining room, one of the cooks had prepared a wonderful breakfast for both of us. With time running out fast, we headed into the lounge or entertainment area for a last talk. Prior to the chauffeur arriving, Reinhardt asked me for my banking details which seemed a little odd. I had presumed that the Victorian Government had paid for the entertainment last night and I was to get half, that being $2,000. In my haste, I scribbled down my banking account number and left it with him.

At 8:00am sharp, the chauffeur was there to pick me up and return me back my own house, virtually around the corner. As I walked in, Gayla welcomed me back and wanted to know all the details. I was able to provide some details but for ethical reasons, was not able to fully sate her appetite.

When I visited my bank the following week to withdraw some money to pay for my rent, I was stunned to find a deposit there for the amount of $10,000. Over the next couple of months I did get to see Reinhardt again on two occasions. Each time he wined and dined me before having me for desserts. He offered me more money for my time but I refused, saying that his first payment was way too high. I also told him that some things in life are much more valuable than money.

Reinhardt said that at some time next year, he would be transferred back to Germany and a new Ambassador sent to replace him. He gave me some details of where he lived in Germany and that if I was ever over there on holidays, to look him up. I took that as a supreme compliment and one offer that I would love to take up or fulfil. I had always dreamed of touring Europe.

Epilogue

Some two months later I sat for and passed my final exams at University. Applying for a job as a trainee journalist in the Australian Army soon after, I got an interview and won the job. I was hoping to cover some stories overseas where the Australian Army was active. However, I met up with this handsome Captain from my department and we were married twelve months later.

By this time, Reinhardt had gone back to Germany with his wife; never to hear from him again. Although very happily married for thirty years since then, and never once having strayed from my husband, I still think about Reinhardt at times.