Deep Inside (23 page)

I'd return to the table with swollen lips from sucking him off, of course. That was his favorite part, the way his little rat pack couldn't help but notice. I'd lick and dab my lips for extra added effect.

For a while I got off on it, too. I also liked the lifestyle he was treating me to: endless five-star vacations, and loads of very expensive, very skimpy clothes.

Yet I was also getting tired of Albert's fucking around. Yeah, that's what you get if you go out with alpha males—they don't know the meaning of the word
monogamy.
I wasn't an idiot and I knew the bargain I'd made. But I was also starting to want out.

However, Albert said a great big no every time I brought it up. And he had bouncers and bodyguards ready to back up his decision not to let me leave.

 

Still, I
continued to enjoy some aspects of our relationship. Like our frequent jaunts to Las Vegas. Albert liked to bet big at the tables there and of course bring along a bunch of his buddies and their girlfriends.

Vegas may have cleaned up its act for the tourist families, but Albert knew how to find X-rated fun. It was his pleasure to hire a hooker for me—right in front of his friends.

Some of the women in Albert's posse would gasp as he brazenly made the arrangements. He loved their shock. So did I.

I'd appraise the hooker in front of Albert and his friends, and then get up and leave with her.

“You two enjoy yourselves,” Albert would call out as I'd head to the elevator with the gorgeous hooker. “I'll be there shortly.”

And I did. Enjoy myself. It was thanks to Albert's Vegas ego that I discovered my own taste for pussy. The feel of a nipple in my mouth…the softness of a woman's ass that would just make me have to spank her…feeling a clit shiver from my tongue…

It was on one of these Vegas trips that Albert spotted Marita. She was so adorable. She sat at a blackjack table, her hair piled high, like a little girl trying to be Audrey Hepburn.

“I bet you could really go for her,” Albert said in a loud voice. Everyone at his table squirmed.

They were all silent as Albert sent one of his cocktail-napkin messages to Marita. She took her time to come over. I liked that. And when she did saunter to our table she had a regal aloofness.

As Albert made his crude, loud arrangements, Marita's eyes and mine locked. I was feeling something new, and as my nipples hardened I could tell she understood what my body and my soul were doing. It wasn't just her exotic beauty that was stirring me, but the way she held herself, as though she wasn't of this earth.

I couldn't wait to be alone with her!

In the glassed-in elevator, Marita ignored the other passengers, pushing me against the wall and kissing me. “You're gonna like this. Because you and I are alike. People call us bisexual, but we're way beyond that, aren't we?” she said.

I lost my worries about the other people on the elevator. We kissed full on, and thigh humped. People made disapproving sounds. A doughy blond family—probably Mormons—threatened to call security.

I didn't care. I really did feel like I was cheating, not just rehearsing to put on a show for Albert.

By the time we got to the door of Albert's penthouse suite, I could barely get the key out of my purse. I dropped mascara and lipstick onto the hotel hallway carpet. I was shaking that much with desire.

Inside the room, Marita shut the door while kicking off her black six-inchers. She immediately pushed me down onto the bed and tore off my clothes.

Then she backed away and did a very slow strip, arousing herself as she played teasingly with her remnants of clothing. When she slipped her hand inside her thong, it was more than I could take. And all I remember from that moment on is that we feasted on each other.

I don't know how much time passed. We were riding on a wave of passion, and we were still riding on it when, through the erotic haze, I became aware of a bulky form standing by the side of our bed.

It was Albert, of course, who'd let himself in without my noticing.

He was moaning in the most unseemly way. “Oh yeah, eat pussy, girls,” he groaned. He was stroking his dick, and was as excited as I'd ever seen him.

I felt Marita's lips on my ear. “Humor him,” she whispered.

“We were warming ourselves up for you, sweetie,” I purred to Albert.

“I just bet you were,” he said. “If you were ever half as much into me as—”

Marita interrupted him by kissing me, reaching out with an elegant hand, and taking Albert's balls.

“Oh yeah, that's good,” he grunted.

Then he stopped and grabbed his cell phone. “This is too good. I gotta invite my buddies up to see this.”

Marita coaxed the phone away from him.

“This is a private sex ritual,” she said. She went over to her purse and took out a sack. “We're going to make a mold of your cock,” she told Albert.

I thought Albert would protest, but there was something in the soft lilt of Marita's voice that was like the best drug.

“Oh yeah,” Albert muttered as though hypnotized. “Immortalize my dick. What a good idea.”

As he dismounted and laid down on his back, Marita got her materials and tools. Albert watched curiously as she laid out a plastic bag of claylike material.

When he saw a straight razor, he gasped, “You're not going to use that on me!”

“We have to in order to make the cast,” Marita soothed, flirtatiously. “If we don't shave you now, we'll pull out all your crotch hairs later.”

Albert settled back, and let her go to work. She instructed me to help her shave and wash him. Albert stayed rock-hard through the whole process.

Marita scooped out some of the clay. “I have a feeling you're going to like this,” she said. She placed first one handful and then another around his hard cock and tight balls.

“Isn't that the best sensation you could ever want?”

“What is that stuff?” Albert said. “It's warm and wet. It's got me wanting to come, but I can't,” Albert moaned.

“Patience, my sweet,” Marita said. “Pleasure comes to those who earn it.”

After exactly twenty-three minutes and thirty-five seconds had passed, Marita gently and expertly broke the mold off his dick. She put the two halves together so Albert could see the mold of his cock.

“Is this the best dick or what?” Marita said.

I pumped Albert's cock while Marita displayed the molds. I never saw Albert come as violently. This time he really did shoot out an incredible load.

Afterwards, he fell asleep. Marita carefully wrapped up the molded dildo and put it into the bag, then got dressed.

“Don't you want to be paid?” I asked her.

“You will be my payment,” she said, looking me in the eyes. “Meet me at three
A.M.
at this address.” She handed me a piece of paper and slipped out the door.

 

While Albert
slept through the night, I waited excitedly until it was time to meet up with Marita.

I took the keys to our rental car and drove to the address she'd scribbled down. It turned out to be a tiny abandoned church in the desert, an hour from the hotel, away from the fancy high-rises of downtown Las Vegas.

As I stepped through the doorway, I could feel that it had been a long time since this was a place where one worshipped God. The thick walls…the cold tile floor…the dusty pews…the old Mexican altar with its peeled paint—it was all in ruins. And there was no statue of Jesus.

Instead, the altar was lit with black candles.

Marita was kneeling in front of it. As I approached her, I saw she was holding up Albert's cock.

“Bless this and make the transmission,” I heard her say, and then I understood no more of the words she spoke.

When Marita had finished her incantations, she turned to me.

“You must fuck me with this now,” she said, holding up the plaster dick, “in front of the Father.”

“Oh no,” I said. “I may be a lapsed Catholic, but I still don't want to go to Hell when I die.”

Her voice went soft and lulling, the way she'd seduced Albert back in the hotel room.

“You want out, don't you?” she said.

She was beautiful in the black candlelight. Irresistible. I wanted to be with her and fuck her for the next twenty lifetimes, for sure.

“But this thing's made of clay,” I said.

“Not anymore,” Marita murmured. “It's made of Albert's soul.”

She handed me a leather strap-on and I fit the dildo into it. I placed Marita on the floor before the altar and lifted up her skirts. I saw her eyes go wild. I put my hands around the dildo, and lifted her leg. I fucked her again and again. She cried out and as she did, I felt something flash through me.

“It's happening,” she said. “But now I must fuck
you
with it for the spell to be complete.”

Marita took the strap-on off of me and put it on herself. Then she began to fuck me. I was astonished. I'd been penetrated with dildos before, but this one was so lifelike—it really did feel exactly like Albert's cock.

No, scratch that. It felt much, much better. More lifelike than life. And we were putting it to much more pleasurable use than Albert ever had. It really was a terrific dick. It just needed to be on the right person.

 

The next
night Albert and I were out at the Vegas Nobu with a bunch of his friends. We ordered the most expensive bottles of champagne and red wine from the racks. He was getting turned on by how much the cost of the dinner impressed his friends.

I wore a full skirt and midriff blouse, and wouldn't let him touch me. He'd try to grope me under the table. I'd push his hand away.

He angrily whispered in my ear, “What are you doing? And why are you wearing this big skirt? You know I want you always to be in the tightest, shortest mini in the room.”

His voice became a staccato growl. “Still, I don't know what it is about you tonight. I want to fuck you. More than ever. And I will. Now, while these suckers eat their sushi.”

I gave him a come-on look and excused myself from the table. Moments later, Albert was at my side near the entrance to the women's bathroom. He paid the attendant to leave, and pushed me inside.

“Did you see the way my friends looked at me when I left to fuck you?” he asked. “Not only that, when we return the chef is going to deliver five-hundred-dollar sushi to our table. Their dicks are going to shrink up next to mine!”

“Those guys should feel inferior to you,” I murmured. I paused dramatically, then lifted up my voluminous skirt. “Because they don't have one of these.”

Albert reeled back. For I was wearing the dildo we'd made from his cock.

“Oh man,” he said. “That is fuckin' weird. But beautiful.”

He put his hands out to touch it. I backed away.

“You want to suck it, don't you?” I said.

“No,” he said, his tongue making motions that betrayed him. “Christ, I'm not some fag.”

“But it's your dick,” I said. “So why would it be any different than jerking off?”

Albert stared at the dildo enraptured, then knelt down before it. He set to worshipping his own cock, jerking himself off while sucking the dildo on me. I have to say that even though I couldn't feel anything, I was getting wet from watching him in the position he'd put me in so many times. He spurted all over the tile floor.

He looked chagrined afterwards and made me swear I wouldn't say a word to his friends. Out in the hall he dropped a fifty into the attendant's hand.

When we joined everyone back at the table, there was a different dynamic going. I could see that Albert's power was gone. He was docile. Cowed, really. I had no trouble packing up that night and moving out.

 

I took
Marita back to L.A. with me. I had a scheme for putting her black-magic talents to monetary use. I had contacts. I could see possibilities.

Marita kept insisting that “the Sisterhood,” as she called them, wouldn't like us reaping a profit from the spells.

“Yeah, well ‘the Sisterhood' hasn't exactly saved you from a life of prostitution,” I pointed out.

I rented a house for us and helped Marita create the ritual altar she needed in a back room where it wouldn't be noticed by customers.

And that's
how our little underground business was born.

The Alpha Male, the dildo we modeled on Albert's cock, was a huge success. After all, it enabled men to become alpha males and women to become alpha females.

It was followed by countless others: the Heartbreaker, the Cowboy, the Surfer…

I knew that limited editions of ten were the way to go. Marita balked, saying that blessing ten dildos exhausted her creativity. Yet she certainly liked the hundred grand that we cleared from each batch well enough. Soon we owned our very own place tucked away behind an ivy-covered wall.