!ADULTS ONLY! Jen's Ten Men!

I KNEW JEN VERY WELL.
After all, I was her friendly
lover for over five years, with two or three times a week fuck session. She was, in the real world of usual turmoil, one of the flower children, a believer in free love, and totally irresponsible. She lived for today and screw tomorrow. Planning ahead wasn't in her general makeup. This attitude of hers served her well in most circumstances, as long as nothing of importance was involved.

Her greatest asset, I'm sad and happy to say at the same time, was her ability in bed. She excelled on a mattress. At other aspects of life, such as day-to-living, she was a dismal failure. She had no concerns for the future, even her own future. Plan ahead? She never heard of the concept. Balance a checkbook? Ditto.

Most times, the amount of money involved was irrelevant to her basic survival, and all she had to do was put in a few extra hours as a temp typist to make up the difference. Or borrow a fiver or a ten spot from me . . . just until payday. You know how that goes.

While I haven't seen her in a dog's age, I'll bet she has no idea she still owes me well over a hundred bucks. But Jen was Jen, so I take it with a grain of salt. I was only too glad to help her. And I certainly would have helped her if she had come to me first on that time she, in essence, robbed a bank. That's what it's called when you knowingly write a check without funds to cover it. A lawyer might refer to it as kiting a check.

Except Jen didn't kite just one check. She wrote nine! But unknowingly, as if the law would excuse that alibi, Jen being Jen holding no water with jurisprudence. And, from what I heard later on, she really was innocent, though foolishly naive.

It was near the end of the month of November and Jen wanted to do some early Christmas shopping. So, she called the bank's self-service answer line and when she heard, whoopee, the mechanical voice say that she had over $500 in her account, she went shopping, a checkbook in her hot little hand.

It never dawned on her that possibly, just possibly, the mechanical voice didn't take any outstanding checks into account. Like the $400 rent check she had, merely a week ago, given to her landlady.

Well, long story short, nine checks bounced and the bank charged her $180 bucks in penalties. Which left her mighty short in the financial column. And, to make matters worse, one of the nine was her rent check. She was in a bind of a bind. And, instead of telling me, she told Curtis.

Now Curtis is a real nice guy, if you don't count his fooling around with hookers behind his wife's back. He said he just does it for the excitement and seeks no love affair to take him away from his wife, whom he swears he loves up and down. As he does his three kids.

Well, Curtis listened to her plight and offered her a way out.

Curtis worked for a large plastics company, the kind that extrudes everything plastic you can think of, such phones, computer keyboards, and lamp bases. And, this large corporation, like most, holds many seminars and conventions. And Curtis told Jen a new one was coming the next day, and right here in midtown Manhattan.

I found out later on that Curtis, and nine other guys at the firm, would chip in and rent a suite at each convention. In many of the contiguous states and some foreign ones, such as The Bahamas, Puerto Rico, Canada, and even Hawaii. They called this suite their hospitality suite and all it needed was a willing hooker to provide the hospitality. Which, to hear Curtis tell it, they never failed to do.

Curtis, knowing how much Jen loved to suck and fuck, and how bad her situation was, told her she could pick up a quick two hundred bucks for a few hours hustle. He was upfront with her, and told her, real early, that she'd have to suck and fuck ten guys for the money. Curtis was not the cagey type.

Jen told me later she took him up on the offer because she didn't want to borrow money, and worse, have to pay it back. That's probably why she didn't come to me. She thought I would, ha ha, expect to be paid back.

She told Curtis she would do it, but . . . "No funny stuff! No handcuffs or anal. And definitely no peeing in my mouth!" He assured her there would be none of that crap, but he did tell her the boys always insisted on having their balls sucked. And it that was non-negotiable. Take it or leave it.

She took it. She didn't mind sucking on balls, rather liked it, if I'm any judge.

Well, he gave her the address of the hotel and told her to be there at 6:30, with the main event to start at 7 pm. He told her to bring a see-through Teddy, one he knew she owned, and give the boys a half hour show before getting down to it. She saw no problem with that little requirement. In fact, she told me later, she was turned on by the idea of exhibiting herself.

However, Curtis still had two more stipulations to make before the deal was final. The first was the men wanted to audio tape the entire proceedings, if that set all right with her. She said it was okay by her, but . . . "No fucking cameras!" He assured her there wouldn't be any, and, from what she told me, there wasn't. But, there were six portable tape recorders going at the same time, in the suite's bedroom arena.

Jen was even given a copy, which I listened to a few times, and now use to jog my memory as I write this. And my memory, I dare say, is close to being a photographic one. I sure can picture Jen's face this very moment.

The second request by Curtis, was she had to douche between fucking the guys. No prob, she told him. He then said the douche was to be nothing more than water. Seems, so he told her, some of the guys had pussy eating and 69ing in mind. Still no prob to Jen. Besides, water costs zip.

At 29, Jen was quite pretty. She stood 5' 5" tall, although a tad overweight, perhaps ten or fifteen pounds over the norm for the height. She had very curly, brownish-blond hair that just hit her shoulders, with those funny little corkscrew ringlets cascading down both sides of her face.

Pale gray-green eyes gave her a strange, exotic look, perhaps animalistic even. She also had soft breasts to die for, with mouth-watering nipples, and a pair of legs that looked made for screwing. You know, with those soft thighs and slightly muscular calves that taper nicely down to slim ankles. The kind of legs that look simply scrumptious on high heels. Or wrapped around the neck. Or a back.

Her ass was a tad plumpish, the belly, too, if you get the picture, but I can't imagine any man caring enough about it to complain. I know I never did. Hey, those extra pounds have to go somewhere, right, old sock? And, anyway, men love Rubenesque gals. Don't I?

This is the only picture I have of Jen. She was 24.

was chatting away. I'll bet many a guy, upon first meeting her for the first time, would get a gander at the luscious lower lip and picture the naughty things he could do with it.

I'm not saying I thought like that, mind you, but I do slightly remember an image of someone's lips and my cock, in a flashing thought on our first meeting. I think. It's been a while! Selective memory is great, ain't it?

When Jen told her neighbor, an elderly, retired hooker, about her upcoming gangbang plans, the lady told her to bring along a washcloth and a small basin. It was for washing the men's cocks before anything took place, most especially, oral.

"These men, honey," She said. "Will have worked all day long and their dicks are gonna smell a bit." That's what Jen told me she said. When I asked Jen, much later, if the old woman had mentioned soap at all, she said, "No, but I brought some, anyway." See? She can think ahead . . .

* * * * * *

THE FOLLOWING comes not only from those tapes I listened to, but from Jen and me lying in bed, after the fact, discussing the whole ordeal.

While it's been far too many years for even my wonderful memory to accurately depict, I will resist the urge to overstate or embellish. But I will take an author's prerogative by putting it down as if it's a story I'm concocting and not simply lay it out as a blow-by-blow description. This way it will be more fun for me in the remembering . . .

* * * * * *

JEN ARRIVED right on time for her hotel gangbang, a few minutes early, in fact. And, she told me; she had never been so sexually excited and charged up in her entire life. The idea of sucking and fucking, not just ten men, but ten strange men, really turned her on. She would, in effect, be just like her elderly neighbor, the hooker, who told her, " . . . I just loved fucking a new man! It's like opening a surprise package." It was, to her way of thinking, much more exciting than the repeaters.

"Geez, Arthur, I was actually cumming in the elevator going up to their suite! And, since I had cum three times while getting ready at home, I had to put on a Kotex pad! Which I'm glad I did." She looked as if she was getting turned on just by talking about it, so I played interviewer. I asked her if she would tell me everything that happened, leaving out no detail, however small. She agreed, a wicked grin on her puss.

"So, Jen, did the boys like your see-through Teddy outfit?" Jen in that outfit? Mamma fucking mia, what a nice a piece a pie!" Don't wrap it; I'll eat it here!

She looked mischievous. "Oh, yeah, did they ever! And I surprised them, too. It was the only thing I had on under my raincoat! You should have seen their faces when I took the coat off! Priceless!" I'll bet.

"Describe the men to me?" God, how I wished it had been video taped!

"Let's see. There was one very skinny guy, the scarecrow sort. And one fat guy, but not obese. The rest were about average, I guess, with a few taller than the others, but none looked much over six feet. Most of them were in their late twenties to early thirties. One guy looked to be in his mid-fifties and another guy looked around fortyish." She had been looking up at the ceiling throughout this trip down gangbang lane, counting by tapping one forefinger against the other. But her memory impressed me.

"Any black guys?" I knew Jen didn't have a prejudice bone in her body. She had made it with a few black dudes while in college, and one fairly recently. A Wall Street stockbroker wannabe, who OD'd on something and never got the chance to buy and sell.

"Just one, the guy in his forties, but he was pretty light-skinned." I could picture him somewhat.

"What happened next?"

"Well, besides them gawking up a storm at me in the Teddy, saying what great tits I had, and what an ass I had, you know, they offered me a glass of wine, a red Burgundy, which, as you know, is my favorite." I knew. We were both sipping on Burgundy right now. I asked, "And then?"

"They told me to strut around the room and one of the guys opened up a new deck of cards. Seems they play a little penny ante poker while waiting their turn at bat, hee hee." She sipped and went on.

"Then, me still strutting my ass off, they used the deck to pick the order. I heard one of them say, "As usual, gents, the ace goes first and the ten is clean up man." I had a stupid question.

"What was Curtis doing all this time?" As if it mattered.

"Oh, I forgot, he was the one who handed me the glass of wine. And he sorta introduced me to the boys. With a Johnny Carson shtick. 'Heeeeere's Jenny!' Know what I mean?" I nodded. "Then he was just sitting on a sofa and staring at me. A weird look on his mug. Like an observer or something. I think, ha ha, he was seeing me in a new light!" I'll bet he was. I could picture him, sitting back, just watching, and getting a kick from it all. And a few surprises.

"What number did he get from the cards?" Why this mattered at the time, I don't know. Curiosity, I guess. I knew I was getting a woody and would probably interrupt her at some point in her tale, if for nothing more than one of her fantastic blowjobs.

"He drew the five card. I heard a guy tell him so." Almost dead middle. Well, that sure described Curtis to a tee. Middle-of-the-roader.

"Who drew the ace?" I was getting my ducks in a row. The line-up was going to start forming.

"This nice looking Irish guy. I heard his accent when he started yelling and dancing a silly little jig. He kept hollering out, 'I got the bullet! Yeah, it's about time I got the ace!' I guess he had never gone first before." I guess not.

"Describe him to me." My line-up needed a little detail

"Duffy? Let's see." She remembered his name! I didn't think she would remember all ten, but you never know with Jen. I suspected she merely remembered the number one guy, the ace puller, but it was her first gangbang, after all. Who knows how much detail she tried to glom onto.

"He was around, oh, 5' 10" with curly, light brown hair. Nice haircut on him. If a little shaggy at the neck. And a nice solid farm boy builds on him, too. You know, those broad shoulders with a narrow waist? And a small ass!" She giggled as I nodded.

"But his clothes looked a size too small!" She laughed. "His pants were 2" too short!" She laughed again. "And I, ha ha ha, remember thinking at the time, that I was about to suck and fuck a foreign refugee!" She cackled, if that's the word, took a sip of wine, and went on.

"Well, anyway, Duffy led me into another room, also with a bed in it, and closed the door behind us." I was all ears now; we were getting to the nitty-gritty part, and the part I just love to hear. "He took off all his clothes while I removed the Teddy." Man, I had a woody! "Then, when I took the face cloth and basin out of my large carryall tote, he asked me what it was for?

"I told him, straight out, I didn't want no stinky dicks, but he said it wouldn't be necessary. They were, he said, a bunch of very thoughtful guys. They had all showered before I came over. Wasn't that nice of them?" I nodded a yes, not knowing what else to do.

"Then?" I asked, eager for more sordid info.

"He kissed me and put my hand on his cock. Which, because I know you just all the juicy shit, was only about 6" but it was fatter than average. And it had a big fat head on it, too. With, hee hee, a large pee hole! A nice cock. He was hard almost right away." I know I would have been. She continued.


                                            Duffy?

"Then he sat on a chair and told
me to suck on his balls. In his
slight Irish accent. Ha ha. Which
I did for about three or four
minutes. He liked that a lot and
told me so. He played with both
my nipples while I sucked on his
nuts, and I'll tell you, I was hot as
hell! My pussy had enough
wetness to wash down a battleship!" She grinned at me. I had a question.

Was it him, Duffy, that had you going, or was it the idea that he was only the first of many?"

"A little bit of both, but I do remember thinking that I would be seeing lots of strange cocks and balls before it was all over. I also remember thinking that I wanted to pay attention to them and not just fuck to get it over with. I mean, after all, how many gangbangs does a girl have in her lifetime?" I wanted to tell her it was as many as she wanted to, but I didn't.

"Then?" I asked her.

"Then he told me to suck him off. Which I did, and it really blew his mind away. He had never had deep throat done on him before. He said he had seen the movie, you know, the one with Linda Lovelace? But he thought they had used camera tricks . . . to pull it off! Ha ha, silly farm boy!" Right.

"Oh, his pubic hair was the same color as his head hair. I guess, ha ha, he doesn't dye it!" That struck her as very funny for some reason. I managed only a small chuckle.

"I take it you liked sucking his cock." I knew Jen would rather suck cock than eat dinner.

"Oh, yeah, especially that nice, fat head of his. It felt just great in my mouth. A lot like yours does." She reached out and put her hand on my penis, which was struggling against my shorts. She gave it a quick rubbing and I thought I'd drop the load right there, but somehow I didn't. When she pulled her hand away, I got her back on the story.

"And then?"

"Well, we got on the bed and he fucked me. A nice fuck, but not a great one. Although I did have an orgasm. A small one, that was caused, I think, when he whispered in my ear to wrap my legs around his back. I did, and when he told me to put them as far up his back as I could manage, that seemed to trigger my cumming." I just learned a trick to use on Jen when I'm in a hurry.

"He came a little while later and thanked me! Like I was room service or something. Well, as I was going into the bathroom to douche . . . "

"Did he cum a big load?"

"I was about to mention that. As I was going into the bathroom to douche, his cum was dripping out of me. I had to put a hand down there to catch it. Oh, as he went into the other room, I heard him say, 'Man, she sucks cock just like in that Deep Throat flick, right down to the fur!' I didn't hear any more because he shut the door. I douched, expecting a guy to be waiting for me when I came out, but there was no one there. So, I sipped the wine a little and sat on the bed and waited. About a minute later another guy came in."

"What was he like"?

"Tallish, maybe 6' with a nice build. Had a small moustache. He said hello Jen and started to undress. I went over to where he was and asked if he wanted me to help. He said no, he was fine. So I stood there waiting. I felt sorta silly, know what I mean?" I didn't, but at the same time, I did.

                                 Man 2?

                                "He didn't kiss me, but he kissed my breasts
                                a bit. Felt good. He had these fat lips that
                                were very wet. Then he got on the bed, on
                                his back, and told me he wanted a blowjob.
                                Said it just like that, "I want you to give me a
                                blowjob, Jen.' Said he wanted to see if Duff
                                was telling the truth
                                or his usual Blarney bullshit. Well, his cock
                                was pretty thick and pretty big, but I've deeped thicker and bigger!" I knew she had. Then she said, "Remember Marty?"

Marty! The guy who taught her how to swallow the whole enchilada. Jen said he had the biggest dick she had ever seen. As wide as a Coke bottle and as long as her forearm. The first time she hit his pubes with her lips, caused by him forcing her head down on it, she threw up all over him . . .