My Virginal Vulva: Four Hour Fuck Fest pt. 2

Evan: How could they not?

***

Valeska: He smokes like my ex-husband. My ex got me into smoking. The worst part was how it became part of everything. I make coffee and smoke, come home from work and smoke. I stopped, but it’s so easy to start again. You drink and have a cigarette, and that’s it. That’s why now I just have a little puff from my vape.

Mr. Robinson said nothing, but adjusted his posture, uncrossing his arms a bit.

Mr. Robinson: Better?

Me: It’s a start.

Valeska: Alexa, play Sade!

It was the second time Sade had crept into my sex life that week. The first time, it had been Evan and I, laughing at how cliché it felt playing Sade to fuck. I chuckled, then got up to use the bathroom. Sometimes bathroom breaks are my only moments to breathe and center myself during my outcalls. I took my time, examining Valeska’s many products lined up on her counter, and vaguely searched to see if she might have another silk robe I could borrow. When I exited the restroom, I found Mr. Robinson kneeling on the ground between Valeska’s legs, his face buried in her pussy. I felt a bit of a sinking sensation knowing that the “festivities” had begun, and our four hour fuck fest was on.

I removed my jeans and sat beside them, expecting I would be directed sooner or later where I might fit into their erotic jumble.

Valeska: Kiss me, darling.

If there’s one thing I can take solace in with our sessions, it is that at least I never have to mastermind the flow of events. Mr. Robinson and Valeska are more than capable of instructing who is to be where and when. I began kissing Valeska as she reached into my shirt and fondled my breasts. I caressed her head, noticing how fine and fluffy her hair was.

After a few minutes, she either came from the oral sex or feigned coming? It’s always hard to tell with vulvas, and particularly in a situation like this, where the third party is much less invested, and perhaps an add-on included at the behest of a cishet man. Regardless, after she came, she moved on to blowing Mr. Robinson, and he moved on to attempting to please me.

My mind was thoroughly cluttered by a dramatic weekend, and my own desire to have sex with my partner, which I wistfully realized would not happen, considering the pounding I was about to experience. I couldn’t for the life of me understand how all of this was particularly erotic for any of the parties involved. Valeska is definitely bisexual, and enjoys pussy, although to a lesser degree than she enjoys dick, according to her own accounts. While this may be true, I had to wonder if she really enjoyed me, per se. Was I her ideal third, or was she playing the part to satisfy Mr. Robinson, with the hope that he may eventually settle down and love her properly?

Mr. Robinson paused and apologized.

Mr. Robinson: Molly dick. Sorry, gimme a second.

His erection came in and out of the picture, partially due to the drugs, but additionally perhaps because of the other circumstances surrounding the interaction. He doesn’t know me very well yet, and I think to some degree I am a bit intimidating as an experienced “professional”.

Mr. Robinson: You should have seen me twenty years ago. You think my sex drive is bad now, just imagine what it was back then.

Mr. Robinson is in his mid-fifties, which is realistically a time when bodies don’t function with the same reliability as they did a few decades prior. And god, imaging having to satisfy a Mr. Robinson of yesteryear seems even more daunting. I do not think I could keep up with a 30-year-old Valeska or Mr. Robinson, that is for sure. I am a simple heaux, a modest heaux, practically a virgin at this point. There is only so much my virginal vulva can handle.

Valeska: He’s such an alpha. It’s just how he is.

It was kinda hot watching Valeska blow Mr. Robinson while he played with my pussy. As you all know, I am very milquetoast-y about threesomes. I don’t prefer them. I haven’t had one that has blown my mind. I think they are unnecessarily complicated, and require a distracting amount of attention to logistics instead of focusing on pleasure. But I appreciated the refined experience Valeska and Mr. Robinson seemed to share in directing threesomes. We didn’t have awkward pauses between one activity and the next where one sits around, unsure of what to suck or lick next. Even the bathroom/cigarette breaks came at appropriate pauses.

Valeska: Darling, can you shut the blinds? I don’t want to give my neighbors a show.

Mr. Robinson obliged and closed the blinds as he popped out to the patio to smoke.

Valeska: I know my neighbor would like it. He’s always watching me. When I go outside to talk on the phone or take a bath in the sun, I see him there in his window.

She rolled her eyes and took a puff of her vape.

Valeska: He’s good looking. A French. Lots of muscles. He invited me over for a Bordeaux once, but I declined.

Me: Maybe you should take him up on it?

Valeska: He’s not my type. I don’t know what it is, but I don’t like a man with so much muscles. I like a man with a little fat. A regular man.

Mr. Robinson returned from his smoke.

Me: I understand. I don’t like too many muscles either. I like someone more normal.

Valeska: I don’t know what it is with good looking men, but they do nothing for me. I like a belly, I like bald, I like not too strong. Actually, I like nerds.

Me: I like nerds too.

Valeska vaguely looked at Mr. Robinson as she said this. Mr. Robinson in turn made a quizzical expression as he stripped back down again.

Mr. Robinson: I don’t know how I feel about this.

Mr. Robinson popped into the bathroom to wash his mouth while Valeska searched PornHub for something for us to watch. She settled on a camming video featuring two women and one man. It was clearly shot in a studio with a high definition camera and three point lighting. Mr. Robinson re emerged and took a seat on the bed, attention turned toward the television. He began playing with his penis, attempting to stir some life back into his pride and joy after a pause.

Me: I can’t watch this. It’s too real to me. I’ve done camming, and it was grueling.

Mr. Robinson: Let’s find something else then.

Me: Sorry, it’s too personal. I even know what kind of bluetooth vibe she’s using.

I shivered. I knew we were going to end up watching some front page porn, which is the least erotic option to me. I can never get off to anything suggested by a porn site, because I have incredibly esoteric taste. Plus, porn sites promote the content they’re being paid to promote, which is often big budget, studio productions with major name White pornstars. But this wasn’t my masturbation party, I was a guest and I intended to use my veto power sparingly.

Valeska searched for “orgy” and clicked one of the first videos to pop up, which was of course, a Brazzers video featuring Abella Danger. I love Abella. I think she is an incredibly driven, hilarious, prolific performer. But my love for Abella isn’t erotic, it’s more human-to-human, sex worker-to-sex worker.

It was a very fratty video that seemed to be a spring break inspired orgy. Why not?

Mr. Robinson: Play with yourselves.

Mr. Robinson returned to calling the shots. His dick once again erect, which meant the party was back on. Valeska reached into a bag and pulled out several sex toys, handing one to me shaped like a rabbit’s head with long ears.

Valeska: You can have this one. The other good one needs to be charged.

Me: Thanks.

Valeska: These are good when I don’t have a dick to enjoy. I have a very high sex drive. I masturbate almost every day.

Me: Wow, that’s impressive. I don’t.

My sex drive waxes and wanes significantly depending on where I am in my cycle.

Mr. Robinson: Well, you’re getting fucked a lot more probably.

Me: Fair.

Regardless of the quality of sex I have, I do get fucked regularly, which tricks my body to some degree. Even if I’ve had a shit session, my body still registers it as satiating some basic sexual need.

Mr. Robinson: How many lovers do you have?

Me: Does it matter?

Valeska: Don’t spoil it. You don’t need to know. What good will it do?

Mr. Robinson: You’re right.

It was clear my number of clients was on Mr. Robinson’s mind. From the beginning, he had wanted to monopolize my time and have me available at a moment’s notice for a midday booty call, which is not a service I offer anyone, not even my longest-term clients. He is still not used to scheduling ahead and waiting his turn. It bruises his ego, knowing that I’m not his alone to conquer. And he’s not alone. GKM has his ways of linguistically claiming me. He’ll say “you’re so hot, for me”, which is not a statement about my erotic desire for him so much as it is stating that I am his specific cup of tea, with the implication that I am not everyone’s cup of tea. It’s not intended as a backhanded compliment, but sometimes it feels that way. Nobody is everybody’s cup of tea, but we don’t go around specifying that. I think that GKM says it in a way that he intends to reaffirm the uniqueness of our bond, but as a writer, I am dubious about this linguistic turn, regardless of intent.

We continued our grueling fuck fest for two more hours, pausing for pee breaks, smoke breaks, and my singular Duolingo lesson break. I kept my eye on a digital clock, conveniently placed right below the television broadcasting our pornographic entertainment. Mr. Robinson came once, which I expected to be the end of our party, but after about twenty minutes of cuddling in between Valeska and me, the man regenerated and decided it was time for another round.

There was a point where I couldn’t understand why we were continuing on. It seemed more like an exercise to prove something rather than insatiable lust. What was Mr. Robinson trying to prove, and to whom? Most likely, the duration was simply affirming to himself with some projected concept of what Valeska and I were feeling. On my end, while I was exhausted after being pressured to come multiple times, I was also somewhat amused to be reenacting some of my more porny fantasies. For example: I’d always wanted to give or receive oral sex while getting fucked, and I got to try that. It was clunky, and likely not super fulfilling for Valeska, but it checked off a box I’d forgotten I’d wanted to check.

Mr. Robinson came a second time, astonishingly, at which point, I again expected we had reached the end of our ménage à trois. I badly wanted to move into the part of the session where we all cuddled and talked about life instead of testing the limits of my wet ass pussy. And we did take a break, but after a bit, Mr. Robinson again nudged us to begin again. There were only fifteen minutes left on the clock for me, and, diligent worker that I am, I accepted that I would work until the last second. When the final minute passed, I hopped up.

Me: Gotta get moving. I’m going to check myself in the bathroom real quick.

The whole session made me feel like I was shooting porn. My body was pushed to the limit, and by the end I had the most outrageous sex hair. My pussy was destroyed, and I wanted nothing more than to be completely left alone. I felt like a fucktoy: a very worn out fucktoy. Valeska was drifting in and out of sleep by the end. I could see that she was as fatigued as me. I wondered if she enjoyed our sessions at all, or if it was completely a gesture of appeasement. I wondered if she would have preferred a woman more her age, or if I was close enough to what she was looking for. I would never know. These questions aren’t the polite kind one answers.

I dressed quickly, and called my Lyft.

Mr. Robinson: Do you want anymore wine?

Me: No thanks, I’ve had enough, and I’m trying to cut down on my drinking anyway.

Mr. Robinson: This was great. Thanks again for coming through.

Me: Of course. Anytime.

Not actually “anytime,” but again, it was the gesture more than the literal meaning of the statement.

We hugged, and I went downstairs to wait for the car in peace.