Michael Alan - From Virgin to He-Whore - The Butterfly Effect

Another three bookings from the party followed on Saturday for purely one hour fucking appointments. These sex toy parties were proving to be a gold mine for simple sex appointments. The one hour fucking appointments were easy money as each client was well aroused from the party the night before. They didn’t need time to establish trust and to relax nerves. They had seen me and knew my talents and were often – very – ready to be totally satisfied. I had complete confidence in my abilities to satisfy almost any woman and I didn’t need to lose any of my essence in the process. I could also easily move to another of these bookings immediately afterwards.

On the Saturday night I returned to Robyn’s place to meet her ‘collective’ friends. I purposely arrived slightly late so that I could meet them all at the same time.

Robyn, Veronica (Ronnie) and Virginia (Ginni) were joined by two other women – Vicki and Charlotte (Charli). Their ages, I was to discover ranged from 55 down to 35. Vicki was the eldest and Charlotte the youngest.

They all looked me up and down, with what seemed at the time, typical lesbian cynicism. I did feel quite uncomfortable until Robyn invited me to sit next to her. She introduced me formally to her group, although I knew they would have discussed me in detail prior to this. They were all very intrigued to hear about my marriage to Fran and my ‘lesbian’ relationship. I told them about my many lesbian friends that I’d met through Fran. I also detailed my extensive sexual ‘training’ with the bisexual ‘harem’. Again, eyebrows were raised with interest. I felt they were beginning to get a sense that I wasn’t a ‘blokey’ bloke and had a wealth of experience and sensitivities for females. However, I was forthright in my belief in equality of the sexes but not by the current feminist philosophy of Affirmative Action. Ooops! Like that frog in the well, it was ‘two steps up, one step back’. But I was making progress!

I was as equally intrigued by their ‘collective’ history and how they saw me fitting in with them. I was fascinated to learn that not one of them had a brother. What an amazing coincidence to the women in my ‘harem’ at the college – or was it? They had ‘introduced’ a few men to their collective in the past, but none had proved successful.

They were forthright in how they saw my contribution to their collective. Despite their fancy words, I was basically being welcomed as the ‘standby cock’. I’m sure they sensed that I genuinely enjoyed the company of women. A lot of feminine ‘sixth sensing’ was floating backward and forward between us. I had inherited my sixth sense from my mother and it was further developed in my formative years surrounded by females at the girls’ college and then in my life as a male escort and entertainer. I felt I understood the female psyche, albeit I could be wrong on many occasions, but I got it right as many times as any woman would in the same circumstances.

After about two hours of fervent conversation and the occasional humorous banter I was asked if I’d mind adjourning to the kitchen for a few minutes while they discussed my ‘credentials’. I had virtually decided that if they accepted me into their group, I’d be keen to trial it as well. I was intrigued by their mature approach to their sexuality and sense of fun. They also seemed like interesting people individually from the little I had gleaned about them. After my many extraordinary years of mind-blowing pleasures with my college harem, I was keen to find something similar again.

The vote was taken and I was in – conditionally for the first month. I accepted their invitation and we cracked open a few bottles of champagne (left over from the Melbourne Cup party) and enjoyed a few more hours of light-hearted conversations and laughter.

The collective met informally once or twice each week and there was no expectation to attend every get together. There was never any expected agenda to these meetings and sex wasn’t necessarily a primo item. They might occasionally have an intellectual discourse on an assigned topic or book as part of the evening get together. In addition to work and other commitments and as is common with women, periods and associated discomfort often meant they couldn’t or weren’t interested in attending every time.

The next gathering was again at Robyn’s place the following Tuesday evening. After my work at Channel 7, I had an early evening escort appointment that was booked by the client specifically as just one-hour of sexual pleasuring. These appointments sometimes went longer and depending on any commitments afterwards I’d not worry if they stretched beyond the one hour. It would depend on how much I was enjoying the appointment as much my client’s orgasmic waves. I never liked to interrupt a woman when she was enjoying a journey of orgasmic bliss. If possible I would keep her on that orgasmic wave for as long as she continued to enjoy the ride.

However, on this night, my appointment was a new client and these often took longer than one hour, as there is the initial nervousness to overcome and it takes time to develop trust. Often, only when a woman felt comfortable in my care and my genuine concern for her needs, was she able to experience her bliss.

This was the case on this night. My client was extremely nervous and confessed that she had suffered from previous sexual abuse. I was able to bring her to a minor orgasm with a yoni massage by the end of the hour, but she was keen to experience full penetration. I had to apologize to her that I had another appointment. I offered her a larger discount than normal for a regular client if she’d like to return another night. She was happy with this and booked again for the following evening.

I arrived at Robyn’s half an hour late and everyone was there and had been drinking and chatting cheerfully. There didn’t seem too much concern for my tardiness when I explained my circumstances. In fact, I think I scored some major ‘brownie points’ for expressing my concern for my client’s orgasmic pleasures.

As I had interrupted the flow for the evening, I took a seat and waited to see how this was going to play out. Robyn was engaged with Ronnie in some casual kissing and touching, but told me to make myself at home and help myself to a drink from the kitchen. I grabbed a glass of wine from the fridge and when I returned everyone, except Charli was involved with some form of chat or play with another. I sat down next to Charli. She was a little younger than me but we were able to chat inconsequently about her work as a media consultant.

She told me more about her life history and I shared more of mine. Charli’s title of ‘media consultant’ was as creative editor for an adult magazine. She had begun as a model in the adult industry and as she aged had moved more into the creative side of the business. She insisted that her modeling only ever involved simulated sex.

She was intrigued to know the name of the college where I had taught. When I told her, she smiled broadly. “No way!” she shouted. “A colleague from work went to that school and had told me about a male teacher who taught her much more than was on the academic curriculum. I asked Charli her name, but she didn’t know her maiden name. She said her friend had told her that my ‘tuition’ was the most valuable thing she had learnt at school. From what Charli told me, I had recognized the special ‘extra curricula sex education’ class Janice and I had taught. Charli said she’d tell her friend I was in town and was certain she’d want to meet me.

Charli had attended a Presbyterian girls’ college and said there would have been no way that course could have been taught there. We both laughed at her assessment!

By this time we had broached each other’s ‘personal space’ and were touching in a familiar fashion. I was becoming aroused by her and I could tell Charli was feeling very comfortable in my company.