How to Have an Affair and Other Instructions. Michael Hemmingson
can go on up to six to eight hours of straight pussy, ass, and mouth-pounding and not ejaculate.”
“Oh.”
“How does that sound?”
“Sounds interesting.”
“You don’t have a problem with an old man like me?”
“No,” Kathleen said.
“After all, your ad said ‘anything’.”
“And I meant it.”
“So what do you say, first impression?” he asked.
“I think it’s something to think about,” she said.
“Go home and “think” on it, pretty little thing,” he said, “but I need an answer in the next day or so…the exhibit is in two weeks…if you don’t want to, I need to find another young lady. If I have to, I’ll hire a call girl. But I’d rather have…someone like you.”
III.
She called Edward Kaff and told him yes, she would take the job.
“Good,” said Kaff; “good.”
“I guess we should talk arrangements.…”
“I have a simple contract ready for you to sign, half a page long, straight to the point. I’ll pay you half upon signing—that’s £2,500—and the other half will be paid upon completion of the art project.”
“Okay,” said Kathleen, “okay.”
“The rest, we need to discuss in person.”
“When?”
“When is good for you, dear?”
“Anytime. When is good for you, Mr. Kaff?”
“None of that mister stuff, girl, you can just call me Edward.” Can you come to my house in, oh, three hours?” he asked.
She said: “Yes.”
“We’ll seal the deal then.”
IV.
Indeed, the contract was simple: at the art show, she would whack-off for no less than an hour and no longer than two hours, using her hands and various dildos that would be provided; she would do this in front of the people there and she would not stop; then she would engage in up to, but not exceeding, five-to-eight hours of sexual intercourse with Edward Kaff: basically a live sex show.
She signed the form and Kaff handed her a check for £2,500.
She looked at the check and thought: This will save my life.
She could cash it and take off, go on the road, to Greece maybe, start her life anew somewhere, forget the past.
But a deal was a deal.
And she could use the other half.
What the hell, all she had to do was fuck this guy.
“How do you feel about intergen sex?” Kaff asked her.
She shrugged.
“Oh tell me.”
“I don’t know if I have any feelings.”
“Have you ever slept with a man my age?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You don’t know?”
“No,” she said, getting annoyed, “I never have.”
“We cannot go into this particular piece of art blind,” he told her; “like any performance, we need to rehearse for the show. This is why I wanted to get started now. Do you understand?”
“I think, yes.”
“Good. Get undressed.”
She looked at him like he was a naughty uncle peeking in on his niece taking a shower.
“I need to see your body,” he told her. “I’m sure it’s quite nice, a pretty form in the buff; but you must get used to being naked, since that is how we will work together.”
“I see,” said Kathleen, and she casually, mechanically removed her clothes, panties and bra and stood in front of Edward, looking down at the floor, her hands in front of her crotch, goose bumps forming on her skin.
“Let me see your cunny,” he said, “let me see that thick bush.”
She removed her hands.
“Nice,” he said, nodding, “very nice.”
“Thank you,” she said softly.
“Turn around and let me see your arse.”
She did so.
“Nice. Now reach around and spread your cheeks, I want to see that shit hole.”
She did so.
“Nice. Not a virgin in your poop chute, it seems.”
Kathleen started to get wet.
Her nipples were hard.
Thinking about that night at the frat house party was getting her excited.
She liked what she was feeling…however alien and odd it all was.
“Turn around, pretty girl, and look at me.”
She did so.
“Look at me.”
Kathleen’s eyes met his.
“You’re not just a pretty girl,” he said, “you’re one sexy bird.”
She smiled.
“Your nipples are hard, and I know it’s just not the draft.”
She stared at him.
“You like this,” he said.
“Yes,” she said.
“I want you to lie down on the couch over there,” he said, “and masturbate for me.”
She felt flush.
“It’s what you’ll be doing, and you need to practice.”
“I know how to jill-off,” she said.
He laughed and said: “‘Jill-off,” I like that. Okay, show me.”
She moved to the living room couch. It was white, it was big, and it was very comfortable—softer than her bed. She could just fall asleep on it.
“Keep your eyes open,” Edward told her, “look at me, look at the ceiling, look at your feet, or look at me, but don’t close your eyes. When you do it at the gallery, your eyes will be open, you will look at the people looking at you and you will make yourself come. You can make yourself come, can’t you?”
“Of course I can,” she said, fingering her clit.
“Go to town, baby,” he said, “slip a couple fingers into that hairy little twat.…”
She did this.
She looked at the ceiling and then she looked at him.
He was standing far away, observing, touching himself between the legs, squeezing the penis he had inside his pants.
“Do it,” he said, moving closer.
She was rubbing her pussy hard, her pussy was dripping wet, and she came…and came again.…
She was breathing hard…
“Oh fuck,” and she made herself come a third time.
“Good, good, I bloody knew you had it in you,” Edward Kaff said.
He was stroking her hair. He was sitting next to her. He touched her neck, her tits, her belly.
“You