Desperate Measures Ch. 02

He just looked at me with puppy-dog eyes then he nodded slowly. I think it was in that moment that he finally realized, once and for all, that he was truly helpless, that he would never walk again, never feed himself again, never wipe his own ass again, and that he would never be able to fuck me again.

Most men would have simply given up after that, and after seeing the look in Brett's eyes that night, I figured he'd be like most men.

But, amazingly, my revelation had the opposite effect. Suddenly, he became more determined than ever to walk, to do for himself, and he told me, in his hesitant, almost childish voice, that he was going to come to me someday and make it so I could quit being a whore.

It was almost like he blamed himself for forcing me into such a decision, and he became fixated on getting back to a point where I wouldn't have to do that any more.

I encouraged him in that pursuit, even though I knew in my heart that it would never happen. Still, I cut back on my schedule and spent more nights with him, just sitting with him, watching TV or just talking, trying to get him to exercise his mind more.

We began to get out of the house more, going to the park or just travelling a little. Maybe it was a guilty conscience, but I wanted to do as much for him as I could.

For all of his newfound determination to at least attempt to recover for my benefit, we never again discussed the nature of my job. It was like a great unspoken in our lives; that if we didn't talk about it, it didn't exist.

I would spend most days when I didn't have a job puttering around the house, doing housework and engaging Brett in conversation. After Ashley came home from school, I'd help her with her homework, we'd have dinner then Mallory would come over and I'd go upstairs and get ready for work.

Whatever else was happening, I always told my husband good night and gave him a kiss before I left. And when I left, I didn't linger. I didn't want to see any yearning or any looks of reproach in his or anyone else's eyes. You know, out of sight, out of mind.

And let me say here that I did not want him or anyone else close to me thinking about, or knowing in any specific way what I was doing, because I occasionally got into some pretty crazy situations.

Indeed, there was one other aspect of my work that developed as the second year of my job progressed, and that was the group scenes I did.

The first time I fucked more than one man in a session came in December of the first year when two businessmen, one of them a regular from Atlanta, bought me for the night.

Most of the time, there were just two men, but every so often, I'd get three or four, and on rare occasions, I'd be hired for a gangbang. The price was still the same, $500 a pop, although I generally waived the two-hour limit if there were a lot of guys to service.

These jobs varied, but the one constant was that I was brought to a continuous series of climaxes, and I came to really like them. Hey, by then, I'd become such a slut in my own mind that it didn't matter what anyone else might think.

Sometimes, they were bachelor parties; others were trade shows where I worked a "hospitality room" with several other girls. Once, I even joined a married couple and their friend for a foursome.

Probably the best group scene I did was a New Year's Eve party at the home of a regular, near the end of my third year of work. It wasn't necessarily the wildest – that was a 14-man gangbang that left me a physical wreck for three days – but I think it was the best, because of who it involved.

Milton Bass was a bachelor of around 40 who owned a dry-cleaning service that had several outlets, and had done well financially. His younger brother, Andre, was a master sergeant in the Army who had just returned from a tour of duty in Iraq, and his youngest brother, Derek, had come down from New York for the holidays.

They were going to have a fairly quiet New Year's Eve, but Milton wanted to hire me to entertain him and his brothers, and he had a special request. He wanted me to leave the condoms at home and do the three of them bareback.

I was a little hesitant at first. I knew Milton was clean, so I wasn't worried about him, but I never let a first-time customer fuck me without a rubber.

Milton assured me, however, that both of his brothers were as clean – if not cleaner – than he was.

Andre had been in a committed relationship when he left for Iraq, but he'd learned she'd been cheating on him while he was away. He'd been pretty broken up about it, so he hadn't been laid in over a year. And Milton said Derek was a kind of a shy type who hadn't had many women in his life.

I finally agreed, but told Milton that it would cost him an extra $500. He agreed, and the date was made.

I arrived at Milton's house about 10 o'clock dressed in jeans, sweater and boots, because it was cold that night. I'd brought along an outfit that I planned on changing into for the "show" that was about to transpire.

Milton already had my fee ready, in the form of a cashier's check in the amount of $2,500, the price we had negotiated ahead of time. I was nervous, but a couple of quick shots of brandy helped calm me down.

When I came out from the bedroom area into the den, I was introduced to Milton's two brothers.

Milton is an average-sized fellow with short hair, a moustache and skin that was a rich mahogany color. Derek was actually kind of small in stature, maybe 5-foot-7 and slender, with skin that was more of a sepia tone and short curls that were trimmed tight on his head.

But Andre, the middle brother, was like some Zulu king. He was about 6-feet tall, quite well built with a shaved head, classic African features and skin the color of fudge.

I'd had quite a few black men before, and, of course, Milton was a regular customer. But for some reason, I'd never had more than one at a time, and I'd never encountered anyone like Andre Bass. He had a very commanding presence, and yet I would quickly discover that he had a very gentle way with women.

I was dressed in a tight leather miniskirt, silk blouse, thigh-high stockings, g-string panties, high heels and a string of faux pearls. I had done my makeup in a fairly exotic way; not thick so much, but with a lot of eye shadow and bright red lipstick.

Since Andre was the man of honor, I had Milton put on some tunes, some sexy soul music, and I gathered Andre in to dance. I knew I was in for a night to remember as soon as he enveloped me in his arms. He was strong, but smooth, an excellent dancer, and I shivered with lust when his hands caressed my butt.

By the third song, we were kissing hard and grinding our crotches together, and I could see wanton lust on his face. When the song ended, Andre looked at me with penetrating eyes, leaned in and whispered in my ear.

"Why don't you strip for us, dear?" he said softly. "Show us that sexy body."

In truth, my nipples were like bullets poking into the soft material of my blouse. Andre sat down and smiled knowingly, as if he could read my mind. His look seemed to say, "you may be getting paid, but there's a part of you that would do this for nothing."

Of course, if I hadn't been a whore, I would never have been in that situation to begin with, so he was wrong in that respect. But he was right in another sense. I was going to enjoy the experience to the fullest, and the money was just a lucrative part of it.

And, boy, did I.

I danced to the tasty soul that was playing on Milton's sound system. These men were mostly from a generation that was a little older – more soul than hip-hop – and they were grooving to the show I was putting on as I swayed to the cool music.

I slowly undid the buttons of my blouse, so that my modest breasts were just peeking from the opening. I played at showing my tits several times before I discarded my blouse. As I danced, I played with myself, softly twirling my nipples between my fingers.

As I watched the look on the men's faces, I gauged just how long to keep the tease going, and I knew I needed to speed things along. I quickly shed my skirt, then gave each of them a quick close-up of my ass, bending over low so they could see the thin material that was snug against my asshole.

Finally I rolled onto the floor and slid the panties off my legs and gave them all a quite lewd view of my clean-shaved pussy. I really didn't much care for the bald look, but Milton had said that Andre had specifically asked that I be clean, so I did as I was asked.

I was quite wet as I displayed myself. I slid my fingers between my labia, the pleasure mounting in my hard core. I wound up on my knees in a very suggestive pose, stared at Andre and beckoned him to the center of the room with a come-hither look.

He stood in front of me, and I reached up, unzipped him and fished out his cock, which was already hard and leaking. Like everything else about him, it was gorgeous, a classically cut piece of meat that appeared to be about 8 inches and thick. His was without a doubt the best "big" cock I ever encountered.

I took my time with it, running my tongue all over the shaft, then working it between my lips, not sucking yet, but just tasting.

At length, I opened my mouth and sucked in as much as I could take, which was a little over half. The rest I fisted, sort of feeding it past my lips. Although I tried, I never could quite master the art of deep-throating a big cock, but I don't think anyone ever complained about my oral skills.

I sucked on Andre's cock with relish, getting it all nice and sloppy, and as I did, I looked up as he was looking down at me, and we shared a smile.

As I took his cock out of my mouth to grab a deep breath, I looked around the room, and I could see Derek squeezing the bulge in his pants as he stared at how I was sucking his brother. I think maybe he was a little worked up over the color contrast, my rather pale, freckled complexion next to Andre's deep dark skin.

I returned to my work, and as I sucked on Andre's cock, I could sense him starting to strip. He pulled off his sweater, then unbuckled his belt and unfastened his pants.

Then I let his cock go free so he could complete his strip and we could get down to what I'd come there for. The room was nice and toasty from the fireplace that dominated one end of the den, and there was no chance of the cold seeping in. It was going to be hot and nasty, just the way I'd come to like it.

Andre sat back in the chair and just held his cock straight up in the air, as if it was beckoning me. I climbed onto the chair, straddled his hips, let him ease the head of his cock to my hungry, wet hole, then I slowly slid down his length until I was fully impaled on his liquid stick.

I know I groaned as Andre began to work me up and down with his powerful hands. I glanced around in a lustful haze and saw that Milton and Derek had removed their clothes and were fisting their dicks.

I motioned for the other two to come over to where I was briskly working up and down on Andre's cock, and they bracketed me on either side of the chair. In that position I could lean over and take them in my mouth. I alternated sucking on Milton and Derek while still fucking on Andre.

Andre was starting to pick up steam, however, and I could feel the little twitters that told me he was about to come. So I let the other two go and concentrated on Andre.

I leaned over and kissed him deeply, letting my tongue explore his mouth, and he reached up and squeezed my jiggling breasts, and lightly pinched my nipples. I was beginning to feel my own climax start to build as Andre's cock filled me just to the brim.

If he'd been any longer, he'd have been uncomfortable in my pussy, but as it was, he was just right. I could feel his twitching that told me he was ever so close, and sure enough, I watched him screw his eyes shut, seconds before he lurched upward and shot a fountain of cum deep in my womb.

He was just a little bit ahead of me, but as I ground my cunt on the base of his cock, where his kinky pubic hair was located, I felt a rush of sensation as I shivered in my orgasm.

I just sat there on my knees, trembling in the afterglow of orgasm. Then Andre gently slid me to the floor, his wet cock flopping from my gooey hole. He got up and relinquished the seat to Derek, while Milton took up position behind me.

I groaned as Milton scudded his cock into my flooded hole in one smooth motion. I looked up through lust-glazed eyes as Derek offered me his cock, and I swooped down on it like a bird of prey.

Milton's cock wasn't quite as long as Andre's, maybe 7 inches, but it was almost as fat, and Derek's cock was about the same length as Milton's, but a bit more slender. Trust me, they were both more than adequate.

I was able to work all but the last couple of inches of Derek's cock into my mouth, swirling my tongue around the shaft, while Milton worked his cock expertly in my steaming box. He was taking it at a strong, but measured pace, fucking me just hard enough to stoke my fire to a fever pitch.

I could sense that Derek was pretty close, so I redoubled my efforts with my mouth. In response, he laced his fingers in my red curls and began to fuck my mouth at a stronger pace. Milton, too, was getting close, and I hurled my hips back to get all of his cock on the incoming thrusts.

About the time I felt Derek's cock swell, he jerked his cock out of my mouth and sprayed his cum all over my face. He shot ropes of semen over both eyes, over my nose, into my hair, then slid his cock back into my mouth for me to get the final dregs of his orgasm.

Just the sheer lewdness of the act sent me tumbling over the edge, and seconds later, I felt Milton's cock explode deep in my pussy. I shuddered in climax as he filled me with a second hard load of cum.

When it was over, there was almost a collective sigh as we relaxed.

That was just Round 1, however. After a brief respite, Andre positioned me on a coffee table right at midnight, and when the ball dropped in Times Square, he took a bottle of champagne, shook it up good, popped the cork then let the fountain of liquid cover my body.

The tingly bubbles sent waves of sensation racing through me, and then I was astounded when he pushed the neck of the bottle into my cum-drenched pussy, almost like an alcoholic douche.

I've never had an experience quite like the feeling of those tiny bubbles popping off in me. I came like a rocket right there on the table, and they didn't let up.

While Andre knelt between my legs and worked his lips and tongue over my sizzling cunt, Milton and Derek took up position on either side of me and took turns pouring champagne over my breasts and licking it off.

They also passed the bottle around for a toast, until it was empty and I had come again at least twice more. By then, they had all three gotten hard again, and they took me right on the table.

Derek lifted my legs high and pushed his cock deep in my hole and he fucked me quite a long time, then pulled out and fucked my ass.

Milton followed suit, planting a big, hard load in my rectum while Andre bent my head back and slowly fucked my mouth, until he came down my throat.

After that, we retired to Milton's Jacuzzi where they took turns cleaning my body. I even did something I'd never done before and that was give Andre a rim job. He bent over the edge of the tub and asked me to lick his ass, and I did. I can't say I got anything out of it, but it sure fired him up.

And that led us to Milton's bed, where they gave me a true triple penetration. Andre lay on his back, and I eased my well-lubricated ass onto his cock, then Derek climbed between my legs and pushed his cock into my pussy while Milton knelt beside me for me to suck him.

I'd done DPs before, but there was just something wicked, something slightly forbidden about letting three black men fuck me in all of my holes at the same time, and I was quickly transported into the nether world of multiple orgasms, a place I rarely visited.

Derek was the first to come, filling my cunt with his wet load, then Milton came on my tits and seconds later, Andre grunted hard and shot off in my ass. By then, I was absolutely a smoking shell, burnt to a crisp inside.

After a few minutes to rest and get my bearings, we untangled ourselves and I went to shower so I could be reasonably clean when I got home.

I saw Andre twice more before he left for his next duty assignment, and he was every bit as good on those occasions as he was that New Year's Eve.

As the fourth year went by, and I passed the age of 36, I began to think about life after hooking. By then, I had my finances in order. The house mortgage was paid for, as was the van, and I had plenty of money saved in a college fund for Ashley and for me to use after I retired from prostitution.

There are those who say that once a woman gets caught up in the life of whoring, the lifestyle and the money become so seductive that it's hard to break free.

It wasn't that hard for me, however, because I never let myself grow to like the life of a whore. Oh, I enjoyed the sex, and the intimacy that often came with it, and the money certainly was a godsend.

But I did my best to stay grounded emotionally, I stayed way away from the drugs that many hookers get caught up in, and, in fact, drank very little alcohol.

I never wanted to be a whore forever, and I began to be more selective in the jobs I took. I took on very few new clients, and cut my workload back tremendously.

It's a good thing I did, because Brett's health started to deteriorate rapidly that year.

The irony is that through the first half of the year, he was starting to make a little progress. He managed to get a slight bit of movement in his right hand, enough to operate a mechanized wheelchair, and he finally was weaned off the ventilator. He still had to have oxygen, but he had finally gotten enough strength in his chest to breathe on his own.

As a result, that summer, I took Ashley, Brett and one of the nurses on a long vacation to the West. We saw the Grand Canyon, the Pacific Ocean, the Rocky Mountains and many other well-known spots in that part of the country.

I don't know if that contributed to his decline, whether the physical exertion that was involved in that trip or the dry Western air left him open to the infections that finally killed him. But even if they did, it was still worth it. It was the happiest time we spent together in the six years that he lived after the accident.

Nevertheless, Brett started getting sick almost the moment we got back. He was in and out of the hospital with pneumonia the rest of that year, and it didn't help that it was an unusually wet autumn and a very cold winter.

Even though it took a supremely difficult effort, we packed up and went home for Christmas that year. By then, everyone – even Brett himself – knew he was dying. Even so, it was very nice holiday.

Brett was as lucid as he'd ever been in the six years since the accident, and we spent the time laughing and crying as we relived all of the good times – and a few of the bad – with the people who loved him the most.

Because we didn't live close to the old hometown, no one on either side of the family knew what I did for a living, but my mom had her suspicions, and she cornered me one day just after Christmas.

"Kate, you've worked hard for four years now, and become very successful, yet in all that time, you've never told me what it is that you do," she said.

I just looked at her with my eyes brimming with tears. Even after four years as a whore, it was never easy to admit to myself what I'd had to do to get by.

"Mom," I said finally. "You don't want to know. All I'll say is that I've done what I felt like I had to do for my family."