The Firemen

Dear Diary, for the last two days I have pondered on the pleasures of double penetration. Yes, one in the ass and on in my lovely quim. As you know, I have never had the honor of feeling two down there...I know what pleasure one brings me but two? Oh! How intimate a feeling it should be, and how vulnerable one must allow oneself to become, to allow such degradation to occur! And not just for I, but what of the two men privy to such debauchery? Being in such close promixty to each other must force one to examine one's sexuality further!

But for now, I shall leave such speculation aside, and close my eyes and pretend that I am at an event. A lovely event that finds me wearing a beautiful and richly coloured satin gown, perhaps a colour as wanton as ruby. It is winter and somewhere in the distance some sort of festive and celebratory music is playing. Yes, it's December, and drops of snow are falling to the ground and a fireplace is roaring and there are tables draped in white and dripping with holiday treats and sweets, springerlie, cavier and oysters and even an anise laced torte, and a variety of finger foods to satisfy the palate and delicately whet the appetite until something grander, much grander, comes along.

I am considering my next nibble when I feel a hand gently touch the small of my back. My head swings around to meet a boyish grin. In the winter soaked dreamscape I had virtually forgotten the existence of others which is quite a lapse indeed as I am always on the hunt for the next conquest.

May I? asks the very attractive gentleman as he gestures toward my empty flute.

Yes, absolutely. And who do I owe this pleasure to? I ask a bit coquettishly.

It is not a "who", it is a "what." And there are two of us, he replies.

I giggle. Two? Really? Boy and girl? Boy and boy? I look around. Father and son? I whisper.

There is a twinkle in his eye. My friend and I, he elaborates. We noticed you from afar as we were eyeing the - dessert - table. We thought it befitting that you were standing in front of it.

Ah, flattery! I tease. It will get you everywhere!

Will it? he asks, now intensely interested. Why don't you take my arm and come with me?

Locking elbows, he glides me across the floor to the other side of the room where a blond version of himself is standing by the Christmas tree.

The Holy Man

Dear Diary, shall I burn in hell with the preacher who came to me and asked that I fornicate with him? He paid me for two hours and we played naughty little games together. Oh yes, quite the active mind he has, almost as good as my other lover, PP. Who knew such naughty thoughts existed in the minds of men we look upon to guide us and give us comfort and sustain us in our darkest and most trying moments? Do you think that, if I had met him on holy ground, that he would harbor similar sentiments? Would he be eyeing the stiffed peaks of my bosom, or the subtle valley of my womanhood, would he allow his loins to quiver with delight at the thought of laying with one of his flock?

You would think that such a charitable soul and an ambassador of goodwill would think twice before he tango'd with the devil but those on the other side of the spectrum do not need much prompt before they wittingly hand me their souls. He fervently follows the calling of a higher power, now he was going to devolve and dance with me.

And what was it that his lustful heart desired? He wanted to play a funny game, he wanted his close up for the day. He wanted to play the role of the male protagonist in The DaVinci Code. Actually, dual roles which is quite suiting, if you think about it. First, he was to catch me breaking into his office, and as the "bad guy" he would shoot me and then leave my body.

Next, as my lover and the good guy, he would find me a bloody mess and near dead and carry me to the bedroom, where he would sweetly make love to me and that sacred act in itself would be enough to provide sustenance and nourish me and make me complete and whole and breathe life into my very existence again! To quote Julianne Moore from The Big Lebowski, "The plot...is ludicrious!"

But dear scriptwriter, he ate my pussy so well, I orgasmed all over his face. Ludicrous plot withstanding, I daresay the ending was quite explosive.

The Humiliated Hobbyist

Dear Diary, this story was relayed to me via backchannel and has been verified by sources who shall remain unnamed but are reliable nonetheless. Even if the story is false, no one specifically is implicated in this drama.

An escort and her client, the subject of this story, was caught with their pants down. The girl was working out of her home, shared with her housemate and fiance, when she heard the front door open and the pitter patter of footsteps signified the arrival of her beloved! Frantic, she threw the client's clothes at him and instructed him to get dressed and hide in a small room adjacent to the bedroom. He hurriedly ran to the room and shut the door as she herself must have frantically tried to re-dress and re-group and consider the possibility that her racing heart, flushed cheeks, and the smell of sex wafting through the room was a dead giveaway to her recent illicit activity. Up the stairs comes the fiance and startled by her frazzled appearance, he inquires into her health and tries to determine the cause of the distraught look on her face. Noting that the door adjacent to the bedroom is closed, he walks over and opens it. Standing in the room is the half dressed client with a condom perched precariously on his dick. What a spectacle he must have made. The escort, in her crazed state of mind, had forgotten to hand the client his pants.

Needless to say, the ending was far from happy, and the client was finally able to get dressed, his manhood and ego further diminished and ripped into by the future husband of the bride, with comments regarding his ripe old age and level of attraction. How could you fuck this old man? he wants to know. Are you getting paid or something? The escort, in tears, denies a monetary exchange, leaving the fiance perplexed and confused.

The Pediatrician

Dear Diary, sometimes I get clients so hot that I feel I should be more generous and cut them a deal. But in my own way I do, I spend an outrageous amout of time with them off-the-clock and I do hope they appreciate it. Not just with my better looking clients but the average ones who command my respect and affection are given the same courtesy.

I am blessed in the regard that most men are respectful of me in general, inside and outside the business. I've come a long way from allowing myself to be treated like dirt and cultivating myself to command the respect of my peers and lovers. I am justly rewarded when a man like "Dr. Ross" comes along to make my night.

This pediatrician from Colorado was referred to me by a girlfriend in the business, a very sweet and dear acquaintance whom I have met at a few socials (which we shall get into much later). She was unable to take the appointment due to a medical crisis, was I able to take the appointment? Of course, particularly since she described him as a "handsome and young-ish doctor with one of the largest dicks she'd ever seen," with a "pleasant demeanor and laid back energy that runs rampant among our west coast counterparts." I was no fool and she implored me to charge higher than my usual fee as she was not charging peanuts. I took her upon her advice and a one hour meeting was set for a night during the middle of the week.

Dr Ross was much to my liking and, Diary, I knew there was something special in those pants. As we were having quite a pleasant fifteen minute chat, I could not resist thinking about what his cock looked like. I was anxious to get him out of his clothes and into bed. Did I have extra large condoms? Yes, I most certainly did and I most certainly needed them. When I finally had him exactly where I wanted him, I gingerly pulled down his boxers and nearly had a heart attack. He was beyond the standard size of large, he was obscene, he was Dirk Diggler incarnated.

How would it fit into my tight and lovely vagina? We proceeded to neck and pet and being the impatient creature I am, I grabbed the bottle of lubricant and shinied up his cock with it and slowly lowered myself onto his gargantuan manhood. His cock was befitting of a size queen! But tonight I was having trouble touching the bottom. Or would that be top? He was killing me and I felt as though I were going to split at the seam. We changed positions and missionary wasn't any better. We returned back to me on top and for some reason my vagina gave way and I slid down his cock like a fireman going down a pole. It was pure delight, sheer delight, heavenly delight, non-stop delight, it was fire, it was ice, it was everything in between and nice, it was sweet, it was spicy, it was racy and a bit dicey. Ode to his joyously huge cock!

Dr Ross and I finally wrapped up after spending a total of three hours together. Three hours! How many of his patients, the mothers of sick children, linger in his office well beyond necessary? Do they know what I know, that his cock is a specimen that should be taken to a lab and carefully studied, tested, and perhaps even patented?

The Birthday Boy & Co

Dear Diary, this confession is a bit of a nasty one.....but I shall confess, I shall divulge my innermost secrets as promised!

As revealed earlier, my curiosity about this line of work led me to a procuress who shall remain unnamed but has come to her demise in the business. She is currently under very serious charges ranging from money laundering to tax evasion. On to the story. We were having a slow night and I was driving home in my car when she called and told me to turn around and drive to another location. There was a boy celebrating his 2o something birthday with his friend and they wanted some action. Why not do them both? she suggested. Since it is a slow night?

I cannot recall if I readily accepted her suggestion, or was I repulsed and did I recoil at the thought? Regardless, there was very little traffic and I maneuvered through the onslaught of local traffic and promptly make my expected time of arrival. The hotel I pulled in front of was average, at best, but what do you expect from two young boys on a budget? I knock on the door and a black guy answers. He's slightly oafish but friendly looking and he invites me in. I nibble on some cake and booze and I notice that he has some white patches on his skin.

I'm dying, he says. He has a degenerative disease and he's going to die very soon. He's accepted it as his destiny and he's not afraid to go. My heart tugged at his words and his face became friendlier and sweeter and each minute on the clock brought him closer to his maker. We have sex and it was quick and easy and then, time to go into the adjoining room to meet his friend.

Another black guy and he, too, is a very sweet natured kid. He pulls out his cock and I gasp. He is built like a piece of driftwood. I climb aboard for the ride and before I sink completely down my cell rings. It's the Madame and it's time for me to go because I am actually booked on a third appointment. I look at the guy, shrugged and say, somewhat unapologetically, Sorry, but times up, and I don't want to get into trouble. His jaw drops and I run out of the room and leave him hanging.

I look back at my actions without a pittance of remorse because the onus was on them to book more time. 'Tis was life back then.