Chapter 3
Candice walked down the long, fluorescent-lit corridor, back through the Senator's office and out into the paneled hallway. She felt wonderful and eager to meet whatever challenges her new job would bring. In the hallway Candice saw Richard talking with another staffer. He looked the way she had first seen him when he had scheduled her for the interview. Richard was funny. In the sack he would buck and moan like a stallion, but in this situation he was restrained and stern. Candice passed him and he didn't even give her a looking-over. Now that's wrong, thought Candice; if he didn't want to act suspiciously, he should have ogled me like he wanted to tear off my panties right now.
She turned the corner and heard the clatter of typewriters in an office off to the left. Now that's where I probably have to go.
The office was large and well-lit. There were about twenty desks in it and behind each one sat a girl as stunning as Candice and Layla. The Senator obviously screened his applicants accurately. Layla sat behind a desk in the corner. She glanced up and saw Candice enter and rose from her chair. "Oh, hi Candice!" she called from the other end of the room. The typewriter clatter stopped abruptly and all of the girls looked up. "Girls," announced Layla, "I'd like you all to meet Miss Candice Staunton. She's just been hired with the Senator's personal approval, and I'd like everyone to go out of their way to make her feel welcome until she gets accustomed to our way of doing things."
All the girls smiled. "Hi!" said Candice brightly. Layla walked over to her and pointed to an empty desk by the window. "That'll be your place," she said. "You won't have anything official to do this morning, just get yourself relaxed. Relaxation is very important around here, as you probably already know." She gave Candice's arm a playful squeeze. "If you need anything, just let me know. Your desk has all your supplies in it. Why don't you start by writing a letter to a friend? It'll get you used to the typewriter. In the afternoon, after lunch, we'll have some work for you."
"OK," said Candice. "Thanks. That sounds great."
In a moment she was behind her desk daydreaming. She glanced around the office. None of the girls seemed to be working really very hard. It looked more like they were typing things up at a leisurely pace, like they were writing fiction, rather than taking down dictation. She looked at the walls. They were a sort of pale gold sanitex, and the moldings of the room were painted a deep brown wood stain. The windows had beautiful floor-length drapes. Candice knew that these curtains served more than aesthetics. If an orgy broke out in here, she reasoned, they would make a very effective camouflage.
She glanced around at the walls. There was a sign by the main door to the hallway that had three fishes on it, a large fish eating a smaller fish which was, in turn, eating a still smaller fish. The motto underneath read: "AIN'T NO SUCH THING AS A FREE LUNCH." Another was a familiar poster of a kitten holding onto a cross bar for dear life. Beneath that read: "Hang in there, Baby. It's almost five o'clock!" And finally, by the rear entrance, hung the strangest of all. There on the wall was a horse's feedbag tacked so that it created a mail chute. And below was a hand printed sign that read: "For the Senator's kittens." Someone had scratched out the word "kittens" and written in its place "pussy." As Candice lazily watched the other girls, one put the letter she was typing into an envelope and walked over and placed it in the feedbag. The feedbag bulged with letters.
Candice's thoughts turned to her own past. She was so glad that she was pretty, because, looking around, it occurred to her that there was no other way that she could ever have hoped to get the job. She had always made a favorable impression on men. She could remember her old schooldays when she could turn a teacher's stern admonition into a sexy smile just by a jut of her hips and a pouty look. Although sometimes it took a little more persuasion. There was this one time when she was caught cutting class by a teacher when she was in high school. He had taken her into his room late that afternoon, after everyone had gone home. She remembered the emptiness of the schoolroom and the shadows cast by the setting sun. There the teacher had berated her for cutting class and told her that she must be punished so that she would never do it again. She had tried to seduce the teacher with her fluttery expressions into letting her go home, but he told her that she must have something to remember, or that she would surely do it again. He ordered her to come over to him. The teacher was middle-aged and had quite a belly, and when he sat in the high-backed wooden chair in front of the desk, his belly dipped onto his lap. Still, rising from the base of the belly, Candice could see that he had quite a hard-on. Candice moistened her lips at the sight of his rising prick. The teacher ordered her to lie across his lap and when she did, he lifted her skirt up to her hips and pulled down her panties. Knowing that her naked ass and twat were present to the teacher made Candice have a rush of desire. She shifted herself on the teacher's lap so that his prick was positioned almost between her legs.
The teacher raised his hand above her firm young schoolgirl's ass and brought it down with a resounding SLAP! Candice's asscheeks reddened slightly and she squirmed with discomfort. "Don't try to get away young lady," said the teacher. "You'll have to take your medicine!" Again and again the teacher's hand rose and fell on the beautiful bare ass of the writhing schoolgirl. Her asscheeks reddened further and grew tender, and each slap brought little yelps of pain with it. She begged the teacher to stop.
"Oh, please," she cried. "You can do anything that you want with me, only please stop slapping me. Oh, my ass hurts so bad." And it was true. Turning around for a look, Candice saw that her ass was, indeed, a bright crimson. When she said this, she felt the teacher's cock grow even harder. It had worked it's way between her legs and was now rubbing the base of her pussy as she undulated on the teacher's lap. Her pussy grew wet, and suddenly she felt the slaps stop and the teacher bend down and begin to nibble the bare, reddened asscheeks. She was happy that the pain had subsided, but she wondered at the sight of this potbellied, middle-aged teacher ravaging her at his will. She thought of her boyfriend, Jack McTeague, captain of the football team, and wondered what he would do to the teacher if he found out. The teacher, meanwhile, had worked his way down between her legs and was rimming her. His tongue circled her pursed bumhole. Candice had wild fleeting sensations that made her quiver on the teacher's lap, each quiver rubbing his protruding cock firmly against her clit, causing even more fleeting feelings.
She was thoroughly wet now, her tight, young pussy pouring forth its cunt juices freely. While the teacher still licked her asshole, he reached his other hand between her legs and began fingering her swollen twat. Candice moaned and twisted on the teacher's lap. The teacher's breathing grew hoarse and hurried. He fingered her faster and licked her harder, forcing his tongue into her ass and making Candice feel like she was being raided from all directions. Suddenly Candice felt her pussy walls tighten on the finger of the teacher and a gigantic orgasm rise within her.
"Oh, fuck me!" she literally screamed. "Take your finger out of my cunt and stick your prick in, Teacher, oh please, fuck me or I shall die!"
The teacher spoke in hoarse gasps, "Miss Staunton, you shall take your punishment as prescribed!" And with that he continued his ministrations until Candice could take no more, She jumped up from his lap and grabbed wildly at his cock, still in his pants. The teacher grabbed her hands. "Now, Miss Staunton, get dressed and go home. Your punishment is completed.
"Oh, please fuck me, why won't you? Don't you want me? Look at my body!" And with that, she tore her dress all the way over her head and ripped off her bra and panties. The sight was almost too much for the teacher. Before him, this breathtaking body of the young maiden, her nipples hard and ready and her pussy soaked with desire. At 17, Candice was at the ultimate of her young beauty, her body a step away from womanhood, and fresh, untouched ...
But the teacher had his convictions. "Go home Miss Staunton," he said sternly and finally. "It is your punishment not to be fucked." Candice started to weep. The humiliation of this physically undesirable man getting her to beg him to fuck her, and then refusing her, was almost too much for her to bear. She dressed, sobbing, and left the teacher with a promise that she would be good in the future.
As she left the classroom her pussy felt unbelievable. The yearning for a stiff prick shoved up it was a sensation that Candice had never felt before in her young life. She had wanted to be fucked for a long time, but her boyfriend Jack McTeague had always refused to recognize her subtle hints. She knew it was because of the unwritten sportsman's code, that any girl was fair-game except for your steady girlfriend. She knew that Jack would not fuck her because he respected her, but she had always hoped that he would love her a little more and respect her a little less. She loved Jack's strong young body. More than once, when she had gone to the beach with him, they had lain together on the sand, and with her arms firmly around his strong muscular shoulders, she had shifted her position so that her crotch was right up against his. She had felt the desire well up within him, as his breathing grew labored and his cock grew hard, but he always pulled himself away from her and jumped into the ice-cold ocean when things got too intense. She knew that he wasn't a virgin, as was she. But every time she had wanted him, he had denied himself to her. She wasn't up for his bullshit right now. She wanted to get fucked and that's all there was to it.
She walked around the school, feeling as though she were a cat on the prowl. And she knew she was, a she-cat in heat, looking for a Tom to end her awful desire. But the only boys she saw in the hallway were the intellectual types, horned-rimmed nerds from the math club or Student Council. She wanted a massive pair of shoulders hugging her and strong thighs driving a cock deep within her aching pussy. She wanted someone who would tear her maidenhead out of her without a second's reflection. She didn't want someone to be gentle and loving with her. She wanted to be ravaged.
The old janitor looked at her strangely as she passed, and she knew that he knew what she wanted. It's funny how old men always seem to know, she thought. Not that it could do them any good. She walked the halls, her pussy still painfully in need of a good fucking.
Suddenly a smell hit her. She could not identify it at first. If her pussy had been painful before smelling this smell, now it screamed in agony. It seemed as though this smell caused every sensor in her entire nervous system to come awake and alive and beg for caresses, for love. Her nipples grew erect at the smell of it and her pussy began to drip again. She turned the corner of the hallway and realized what the smell was. It was the smell of sweat and grime from young male bodies pushing themselves to the very limits of their endurance. It was the smell of the aggression of men, of their combat and vying for a place at the top of the stamping herd. Unexpectantly, Candice had wandered to the very door of the boys' locker room.
It was early October and a sultry autumn evening. A haze stood around the entranceway of the locker room, smelling strongly of the rut. As female deer are maddened by the smell of burst rut saks on their challenging bucks, so did the smell of the place madden Candice with desire. She wandered in, expecting to be caught and pushed out, but the place inside was empty. Empty, that is, except for that maddening odor. She walked among the lines of lockers, looking at the under-things thrown haphazardly around. Rut-scented jockstraps hung like so many golden apples before her. Her cunt blazed with wants. She imagined a cock inside of each of the straps, that, like a dildo, she could take firmly in hand and plunge deep into her screaming pussy. She was on fire. Without even realizing it, as she walked around the locker room, she was slowly shedding her clothes. Finally, she was completely naked, the saltsweet odor of her own yearning pussy mingling with the rut-odor of the young bucks who were outside practicing their mock warfare.
As she wandered around, she began to take things that were hanging up off the lockers and the walls and rub them against the swollen lips of her cunt. She rubbed old sweatsocks against her firm, young breasts and jockstraps through the space between her legs. She came again and again, the odors mingling on her. The smell of her own cunt and the rut-soaked items that she rubbed on herself was such that, had there been a dog around, it would've had to be shot to keep it from humping her.
She wandered through to the back door and looked out. The sight that she saw drove her immediately back to her senses. From the far corner of the field, from where the fifty-odd members of the football team had gone to do their final maneuvers, they were sprinting toward the door of the locker room, Practice was over. Candice felt a rush of panic. What if they should find her here like this? What would they think? She knew that if she was found, it would be the end of her relationship with Jack. There was no time for her to try and escape, her clothes were scattered all over the room. She would hide! She ran into the shower room and turned on all of the taps, steaming the place up. The hot water seemed to loosen her up and again her mind drifted, and she almost didn't hear the cursing playfulness of the young athletes returning from their day in the field.
She imagined all of the boys dressing, cramming their cocks into the jockstraps that she had just rubbed against her hot pussy. She almost came again at the thought. And so, masked by the steaming hot water, she rubbed her pussy and sat, drifting out of the situation.
She was brought back into it by rough, jeering voices. "Hey, look it what I found!" said one.
"Yes," continued another, "a nice piece of twat just waiting for us."
A third called out, "Hey boys! Someone's brought us something for working out so hard today!"
Candice looked up at the strong, naked bodies of the football players. Gazing at her young and nubile flesh, each of them sported a hard-on, just like so many flagpoles. She was thoroughly petrified, and yet, seeing the hard-ons brought her desires back to the surface. She tried to get up out was roughly pushed back down onto the slippery tile floor. Before she knew it, every boy on the team was crowded into the shower.
"C'mon boys!" yelled one. "Soap her up!" In a minute the football players were all over Candice, rubbing her with the shower soaps. She felt their strong hands running all over her body, flattening her breasts, passing between the cheeks of her ass. Every hole in her body begged, for a cock. She slid around on the slippery floor while twenty boys stood over her in the steamy shower rooms, rubbing their cocks on her and soaping her up like madmen, while thirty more watched. For one small second she wondered where Jack was, whether he would see the spectacle and come running up, and like Sir Galahad, rescue her from the gang bang that she knew would take place. Little did she realize that Jack was, in fact, outside, helping the coach collect the equipment and put it away. He was still a good ten minutes from the door of the locker room.
The soaping was driving her insane. She moaned and begged to be let go, but in her heart she knew that what she wanted was each of those fifty cocks shoved up her creaming pussy. Suddenly she began to scream, "Fuck me! All of you! Fuck me up the ass and up the cunt and everywhere!" The boy's heard this and stopped for a second. They couldn't believe their ears. Here was this girl being ravaged by fifty of them, and she wanted to take all of them on. And it wasn't like this girl was a whore or a dog. She was a nice piece of beautiful young woman flesh who wanted them, wanted them all. Some of the boys shot their load at the sound of Candice's begging's alone.
Two of the boys wrenched her legs apart and Ray Torrero, a huge hairy Italian, with a cock like a baseball bat, readied himself, soaping up his huge organ. "OK, Baby," he yelled hysterically. "You want to get fucked, that's no problem at all." And with that he plunged his blood-gorged member deep into Candice's soaped and dripping twat. Candice screamed as she felt her cherry give way. She reached up and circled her arms around Torrero's huge hairy shoulders and begged him to fuck her faster. She came and came again. Then with a mighty scream Torrero shot a tremendous load into her. The boys pulled him out.
"Next!" went the cry. George Ruthier stepped forward. He was a huge French-Canadian who would've been a hockey goalie if his family had stayed in Canada. He, too, was hung like a horse. The boys spread Candice's legs even further to permit the entry of Ruthier, for he was even wider in girth than Torrero. Candice looked up to see his angry red face over her, sucking her tits, and then felt his mammoth pole smash into her, spreading her cunt walls apart until she was sure that she would burst. The ogre thrust his tremendous cock into her again and again, and it seemed as though Candice creamed with each thrust. Ruthier grunted like an animal, thrusting harder and more deeply with each push of his huge cock, and finally with a low moan like an animal, shot his wad. Candice's cunt was now dripping with jism. Some of the boys, not being able to wait for their turn in Candice's twat, rubbed their swollen, wanton cocks off all over Candice's sweet young virgin flesh. Candice looked up to see cocks rubbing her belly, all over her tits, shooting wads of hot, sticky jism all over her, until she was as much covered with the steaming spunk as she was with the soap and water. She was hardly conscious. Cocks were everywhere around her, fucking her in the very pores of her skin.
Suddenly a voice boomed out, "'What's going on over there!" It was the coach. The boys leapt back in terror as the huge coach, a mountain of a man, forced his way through the crowd. The last boy, who was still inside of Candice's cunt when the coach entered, pulled abruptly out of her when he heard the coach's voice, the mixture of pleasure and fright, causing him to loose his load and shoot it all over the face of the hapless Candice. Candice tried vainly to raise herself on one arm, but she had all that she could do to open her eyes. The spectacle that greeted, the coach was astounding. Before him, in the middle of his naked team, lay the beautiful young girl now completely covered with scum and soap. A small pool of blood mingled with the soap and semen between her legs, the last vestiges of her virginity. "You boys are in deep trouble. All of you!" he roared. He reached down and grabbed the boy who had been the last one to fuck Candice, the end of his cock still with a pearly drop of his come. He grabbed him by the skin on the back of his neck and jerked him to his feet. The boy tried to wriggle free but the coach's grip held him an arm's length away from the coach's pugnacious nose and his foul breath. "You were fucking this girl. I saw you. Do you understand what's going to happen to you? All of you!" He began to bellow. "I'll bet they send all of you to jail!"
Torrero stepped forward. "Wait a minute, Coach," he said. "This twat, she wanted it. She was in the shower room naked when we came in. Honest, Coach, she wanted it. We didn't drag her in or nothin'." The coach looked long and hard at Torrero, but he knew that the big goon couldn't lie with a straight face. He could gang bang young virgins, yes, but he couldn't lie to the Coach.
Suddenly the Coach looked at Candice and knew what had driven the boys wild. The running shower water had washed all of the scum and soap, and lying there on the floor, Candice looked like a mermaid that had been deposited at the feet of the coach. He felt his blood begin to thicken, and his cock became filled with the thunderous blood and bulged in his pants until they looked as though they were going to burst. He slowly unbuckled his pants and brought out his huge member before the eyes of the astonished Candice.
"Well, young lady, if it's a fucking you want, then you should have asked me in the first place. Never ask a boy to do a man's job." He removed his pants and shirt and his cock stood out before him. Wide-eyed, Candice wondered if he was really going to shove that, huge cock into her. Her pussy was already quite tender from the workout, but the sight of the Coach's organ filled her with desire. What the Coach had said was right: let a man fuck her! One second later the Coach was ramming his prick into the hot young pussy of Candice Staunton. She spread her legs as far as they would go to try to accommodate him. She felt as though her legs were going to break off. With the Coach thrusting his prick almost up into her womb, Candice felt the hot and cold flashes of her orgasm rise from within her very soul. Her pussy tightened so hard around the ramming prick of the Coach that he almost screamed with pain as he felt the spunk rise from his scrotum into the length of his cock. She clawed at his back until rivulets of blood ran down the muscular skin. They both came together with animal screams, while the members of the team stood around and watched, playing with their cocks. All but one.
The one member of the team was Jack McTeague, who had stood there transfixed, arriving seconds after the Coach, to find his lovely Candice naked and fucked on the floor of the shower. He never spoke to her again.
The clatter of typewriters brought Candice back to the present. There seemed to be a break in the action of the office, and as she looked up she saw Layla approaching her. "Time for lunch, Dearie," she said brightly and told Candice to get up from her desk. Candice obeyed her new-found friend and in a minute they were up and out into the hallway.
"Where shall we go for lunch?" asked Candice.
"Where we always go," answered Layla. "We don't go out for lunch around here. The Senator lays out a spread for us every day." Layla led Candice into another room where a huge buffet table was laid out. A whole sliced turkey graced the middle of the table, and all around the turkey condiments of every description were attractively displayed. There were steaming ears of fresh corn-on-the-cob, asparagus with hollandaise sauce, and good bottle of Rhine wine. A make-your-own-sundae stood at the side of the main buffet table, with a large mound composed of scoops of every imaginable flavor of ice cream. In small tureens around the edge were several flavors of syrups and nuts and fruits of every kind. Candice's mouth watered. She had not had anything to eat since the dinner of the night before, a couple of hurried hamburgers, and sex, too, always made her hungry. Before she realized what she was doing she had heaped a plate full of a double helping of everything and was looking for a place to sit down and attack it.
In the corners of the room were large easy chairs with a sort of table rigged onto the armrest. Candice found a place next to Layla and sat down. There were about four chairs in a small semicircle and two other girls sat with Candice and Layla. Across from them was a petite black girl, about the same size as Layla, with large breasts and shining deep-brown eyes. She was wearing a very short dress over her compact, muscular body, and Candice could see where the dress had risen almost to her crotch and a few strands of black cunny hair peeked through. The other girl was a tall brown-haired girl with the most per feet body Candice had ever seen. The girl had long, luscious legs and wide firm hips. Above her hourglass waist was a pair of fine, firm boobs that rode high and prominent on the girl's chest. The black girl's name was Vanessa and the tall girl's, Heather. Vanessa saw Candice and gave her a big smile.
"So you're the new girl," she said with a wink. "Well, you are some looker, I'll give you that much. Richard must've gotten some piece of ass last night."
"Not to mention the Senator," interjected Layla. "Candice was personally interviewed in the Senator's office last night before he left for Wyoming."
"The Senator himself, huh?" Vanessa looked duly impressed. "I haven't made it with the Senator myself, sad to say. He's a fine looking gentleman. But I'll get my chance if I stay here long enough. Tell me, Candy, honey, is he as good as they say?"
Candice skewered a piece of turkey on her plate. Long ago she had learned to be closed-mouthed about her sexual experiences. The locker room incident in high school had left her reputation in a shambles. "The Senator is a very good man," she answered ambiguously, stressing the word "man" so that Vanessa could understand her hidden meaning. Vanessa replied with a wink. "What sort of work will I have to do this afternoon, Layla?" Candice asked, changing the subject.
"Oh, I have some filing that needs to be done and a few invitations that have to be mailed out," Layla answered.
"What sort of invitations?" asked Candice.
"Oh," answered Layla, "you'll find out this afternoon. I'll explain the whole thing. Now hurry and finish that plate of food so that I can make you an ice cream sundae. You have to be sure to keep up your strength."
Candice didn't argue. As she shoveled the delicious, perfectly prepared food down her throat in huge gulps, she could only think of her luck in securing this job. Jeanne, a good friend of hers, had been the one who had resigned and left a vacancy. It had been years since the Senator had to resort to advertisements and outside recruitment to obtain people for his staff. Someone who was leaving always knew someone perfect for the job. The Senator was careful not to have two friends working together—that would create a challenge to his ultimate authority. "When Jeanne left to marry a young lawyer that she had met at the office Christmas party. Candice was all ears about the job.
Candice was used to putting out for her boss. Her last job had been as receptionist for a large plumbing firm in nearby Baltimore. The success of her boss's business lay in greasing a lot of palms, or having Candice grease a lot of cocks. But the men had all been hard core construction-worker types without the intelligence or finesse of people like the Senator. She was happy to have left that job in her past. She considered her present position in a definite step in the upward direction socially.
Candice was curious about Layla. She had heard Richard and Jeanne both drop the fact that Layla had the most seniority on the entire staff. And yet the small, brown, Polynesian girl seemed totally without a trace of condescension or power-hunger. She turned to Layla and casually asked, "Layla, how did you get started with the Senator?"
"Oh, I used to live in Hawaii, and the Senator was out inspecting a naval installation," began Layla. "I was working in a small Polynesian restaurant that specialized in poi and roast pig. Poi? Oh, that's a ground root paste that you eat with your hands. If you've never had it, you should try it some time. It's very good and it represents the starch base of the diet of the Polynesian people. I worked as a topless there. One day the Senator came in with his whole entourage. There were congressmen from the Islands and the mainland, and all sorts of military types, generals, admirals and such, and of course, a few major local businessmen, who were footing the bill. The party was so large that it required three whole roast pigs, cooked in a pit in the floor of the restaurant, to feed them all. I was being paid overtime to dance as long as the group wanted. I felt good. It was my first personal experience with these types of men. You know, power types. I danced almost until dawn, drinking steadily all night. The admirals and the businessmen were all rude and gross to me after they got good and drunk. They all wanted me to go home with them, and they thought nothing about asking me in the most rude and forthright ways. But the Senator was not at all like the rest of them. After I was through dancing one particularly hot number ... well, let me tell you about this dance number first.
"It was a lot of show, my act. A lot of theatrical nonsense, though it was always my body that got me gigs. Anyway my costume for this number consisted of a grass skirt and a very finely woven asbestos body suit. It fit me like a glove and in the dim light it could pass for skin. The number was a very hellish, jazzed up Polynesian number. On the dance floor were five depressions that we used to fill with oil and set ablaze. I would leap onto the stage and begin dancing to the music, dancing closer and closer to the fires each time. Finally, I would begin to leap through the blaze, causing my grass skirt to catch fire. I tore it off me screaming and then I would run around the stage and leap over each fire with my legs spread, screaming like my pussy was being burned to a crisp and my skin was charring. It turned a lot of men on, believe me. I guess it brought out the sadist in them. Anyway, when I was supposedly good and burned, I would dance out into the audience. The dance was a simulation of the writhing agony of someone who had been horribly burned. Then I would peel off my body suit as the band played a sultry strip number. The men would always, always become horribly turned on when my brown, unburned flesh would emerge after they were sure that I'd be mutilated for life.
"Anyway, this was the high point of the evening with the Senator. I did my 'dance of fire' and afterward, John—he was the Senator's aide before Richard—came over to me and asked me if I would like to join the Senator at his table. I was sure that there was a big tip in it for me, so I went over. Senator Hughes sat there calmly, like a medieval king at a banquet table. He introduced me to all of the men at his table, many of whom were local celebrities that I had often heard mentioned by my boss. Then he pointed to a chair next to him and asked me if I'd like to sit down and join him in a drink. My pussy began to water as I sat next to all of these powerful men, completely nude, all of them ogling my body. I think I knew as soon as I sat down that I'd be spending the rest of the evening with the Senator and it gave me a feeling of superiority to have all of these local tyrants, ogling me, desiring me, and yet none of them could have me.
"The Senator and I drank together until almost dawn, when the party began to break up. The Senator sent John over to speak with my boss and ask him if he would leave the restaurant in the Senator's hands until morning. The bill for the party was already astronomical, and with the promise of the extra bonus that John hinted at, my boss readily agreed. They all left soon after, and the Senator asked me if I would stay with him for a private party. I would've creamed in my panties if I'd had any on.
"In a short while there was only John, me and the Senator in the deserted restaurant. John went outside to the lobby to wait and that left me and the Senator alone in the main banquet room. The Senator asked me if I would do my "dance of fire" again, just for him. I said, 'Sure.' He helped me fill the depressions with oil again and I went down to my dressing room and got another asbestos suit. I appeared on the floor and began to go through my act again. The Senator was quite loaded and he walked down the aisle to the front of the stage and watched me. I could see his handsome face staring at me, lit by the fires. His eyes looked like they were ablaze. Dancing through the fires, with the heat pouring into my already hot pussy, the sight of the Senator getting off on me like that really turned me on. Somehow, my hand found its way to my cunt and I masturbated as fast as I could through the thin asbestos. My pussy watered and watered. I could feel the cunt juices dripping down my legs inside of the suit. But the Senator just stood there, watching me calmly. The only thing that gave him away was that crazy burning in his eyes. I looked deeply into those eyes and the minute I did, I began to come. I came like I never had before in my life. My orgasms were spaced only seconds apart, I would feel my pussy get all tight and then loosen up, only to contract again a second later. I was exhausted and could dance no more. I tumbled off the edge of the stage and lay in a heap at the feet of the Senator.
"The Senator looked at me strangely and I knew that I was about to get the fucking of my life. The Senator carefully stripped, and I creamed just looking at his hard body. Then he did something that surprised me. The Senator, completely naked, and without even an asbestos suit, began to do the 'dance of fire' right in front of me. The fire must have been painful to him, but he didn't show the least sign of discomfort. He leapt through the fire in a perfect imitation of my dance. I was surprised to see that such a large, powerful man could be so graceful. Then when he, too, was exhausted, he came and lay down next to me on the carpeted floor in front of the stage.
"We lay there for a few moments drunk and exhausted. I could smell the singed hair on the Senator's body and I was terribly excited to think that this man who could handle the most complex mental negotiations could also be so brave about physical pain. I crawled down to his crotch where he still sported a magnificent hard-on. I took his cock in my mouth and began to suck it, the smells of his cock mingling with the smell of burnt hair and the perspiration that poured off him. Soon he was moaning on the floor. I sucked and sucked; my saliva out of the corners of my mouth and dripped all over the Senator. Suddenly, just as it felt that he was about to come, he reared up and flung me on my back. In a moment he was down on me, tearing at the thin asbestos with his teeth like a madman. He must have ripped out quite a bit of pubic hair along with the asbestos, because I screamed like a schoolgirl getting her first fuck.
"In a few minutes he had ripped a hole in my body suit and the pink swollen lips of my twat stared him in the face. He really went down on me then. His dance through the fire and his brutal rending of my suit had him going really hot and heavy. I'll never forget the first feeling of his tongue on my twat: he sucked and sucked on my clit until I could stand the awful pleasure no longer and begged him to fuck me. He didn't respond right away, he just kept up eating me, slurping up my cunt juice like it was Chivas Regal. I writhed and pleaded with him to stick his beautiful cock up to my throat and finally, he reared back like a stallion and plunged his steaming meat right into my twat, all the way in the very first thrust. My legs locked around his ass and with each thrust I would raise my hips to meet him. I thought that he had gone into my cunt as far as it would go with that first massive push, but it seemed that each time he thrust, he would drive deeper and deeper into my hungry pussy.
"He tore at the upper part of my suit with his teeth while he was fucking me and soon he got his mouth on my tits and sucked them too. My nipples gave before him, and it was the most ecstasy that any girl would ever want to feel. I could've died right there and been happy. Then I felt his cock grow even bigger and I knew that he was about to shoot his load. My pussy wall grew tight and my own orgasm began to build. I begged him not to come just yet, to keep on fucking me, and that's just what he did. Finally, my pussy walls contracted all the way and milked the come out of him in a strong, hot stream. I came, too, creaming all over the bitten opening at the crotch of my jumpsuit. We just lay there moaning for about an hour. Then the Senator crammed his card up my convulsing cunt and told me to call him in the morning. I did, and he acted like nothing at all had happened. He offered me a job as a secretary on his staff, I accepted, and the rest is history. I've been with the Senator ever since."
Candice felt hot and sweaty from hearing Layla's story. She wondered if she too, someday, would tell a blushing novice how the Senator had given her the orgasm of her life up in his office in the middle of the night. One thing for sure, this Senator was some stud. Candice was dying to find out more about this fascinating personality.
Layla got Candice her ice cream and the two of them sat eating, hardly looking at one another at all. Then Layla stood up. "C'mon, Candice," she said. "It's time for us to go back to work."
Layla threw her arm around Candice's waist and the two of them slowly walked back to the office together. There was much Candice had to learn, and by this time she was sure that Layla would be a perfect teacher. She decided to stick to the small powerhouse like glue.
They entered the office together. Candice found that while she was gone, a typed list of names was placed on her desk.
"Now," said Layla, "these are the names of men who are very important to the Senator. I want you to write to them, asking them to come to the big yacht party next week. Make your letters suggestive, to say the least. These are men like the Senator. You have to ask them to fuck you. If you can get a lot of them to come, then you'll be invited to the yacht party yourself."
"What are these parties like?" asked Candice.
"Just like you haven't been fucked until you've been fucked by the Senator," Layla chuckled, "you haven't been to a bash until you've been to one of the Senator's bashes.
Candice spent the rest of the afternoon writing letters to the men on the list, addressing them and dropping them in the feedbag that hung on the wall. She tried to imagine that each was a man in her past whom she had. badly wanted to fuck, but who would have little to do with her. Her letters were just the right mixture of subtle hints and outright proposition. She worked hard all afternoon, barely looking up at all, until Richard came over and told her that it was time to go home for the night. When Candice looked up to answer him, she noticed that most of the other girls had left already and the rest were putting on their coats and gossiping.
"Well," said Richard, pointing to the stack of finished letters piled high on Candice's desk, "you really are an eager beaver. The Senator found a gold mine when he hired you. But you're on the right track. Work hard for the Senator and there's no telling how far that you can go."
Candice left the office feeling good. She felt that her first day on the job was a smashing success. She felt so good, in fact, that, out of the little money that she had left, she treated herself to an expensive steak at a fine restaurant on the way home from work. She slept deeply that night, wondering if her hard labors would bear fruit.
About a week later, she got a call from Layla at her home at about nine o'clock on a night before work. "Listen, Dearie," said Layla, "I just left the Senator and your letters got a smashing response. You outdid every one of the girls in luring men to the yacht party. The Senator told me that you should rest tonight and all day tomorrow, and report for work at the Pier at eight p.m."
"Great!" said Candice. "How should I dress?"
"Casually," said Layla. "Something that's not too hard to remove, if you catch my drift."
Candice smiled in anticipation. "OK, great then. Will you be there Layla?"
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, Dearie."
"OK then, Layla. I'll see you tomorrow night."
"Candice," said Layla. "Take the Senator's advice and get some rest. Tomorrow you're going to meet some bigwigs!"