Special note: I wish to thank Annette Bishop, Kirsten, Nancy, Liz, Ted, and Amanda; without whose support and inspiration this story would not have been created. Thank you all so very much!

*****

The two women walked along side one another in the wooded grove of cedars, olives, and cypress trees; their wispy short gowns billowing slightly in the warm breezes of the Mediterranean. They giggled together at some bit of humor the two had shared just moments before, their moods and movements bright and happy as the rays of sunlight washing over them. Everything around them was bathed in warm glow as their bare feet negotiated the paving stones of a mountain road leading to an ancient broken temple that emerged from the trees in the distance.

"Come on Annette," Shelby challenged her more mature but equally beautiful companion, "you're too slow!"

"I'm in no hurry Shelby," Annette Bishop replied to her young acolyte, "but if I chose to run I could easily outpace you, Miss Shortlegs!"

"My legs may be short but I can move them fast enough and what's more," Shelby replied with her characteristic playfulness just seconds before swatting Annette's bum with a mischievous hand, "my hands are fast as well!"

Annette felt the honeybee sting of Shelby's swat and yelped in mock surprise. She retaliated with a playful swat of her own; aiming for the younger woman's bum, (only for her hand to swish open air as Shelby had already dashed ahead out of reach). A merry chase between the two was on as laughing and shrieking, the two dashed ahead up the road; one after the other in hot pursuit!

Up flew their gowns in the breeze, exposing a pair of delectable heart shaped rumps as the pair dashed up the broken paving stones; a gleaming white marbled temple ruin lying just ahead. Shelby's legs and arms flew; speeding the compact dirty-blonde pixie along the ground, but the lovely taller brunette Annette easily closed the distance behind her until at last her long dancer's strides brought her to within reach of the girl. At a slight curve in the path Annette leaned and grasped with both hands, laughing as she did so.

Her arms reached out to tackle the girl and tumble her into the grass at the road's bend so as then to pin her down for a good tickling; yet it would not be. As Annette's lovely white limbs reached out to seize the little pixie's hourglass form, Shelby shot up into the air like a giggling dart. Annette wrapped her arms and tackled empty air; crashing from the path into the soft grass, tumbling end over delightful end.

She pulled herself from the green sod and glanced up to see Shelby staring down at her, the girl's dragonfly wings beating the air frantically as she hovered above her fallen companion with a look of playful mockery etched on her face. The girl then fell upon Annette like an aspen leaf. She seized her mistress by the neck and shoulders as the older woman wrapped her legs around the waist of the girl, (who now had seen fit to be 'caught'). The pair kissed; long hard and deep. Finally, they parted mouths and gazed into the eyes of one another.

"Will it always be like this?" Shelby asked happily.

"One can hope," Annette replied to the little nymph, "but the fates love change and change may be something we'll need to embrace when the time comes."

"Nothing is constant," Shelby said with a nod, her voice trailing off into an eerie echo that filled Annette with a bit of unease and caused her to pull the girl in protectively.

She felt the young nymph paw greedily at her breast and presently, a nubbin of a nipple popped from Annette's sheer slip; only to be met by Shelby's lips. The girl set about suckling and nursing. Annette's eyes narrowed. She felt lips and tongue do lovely dirty-work upon her breast as the deft fingers of the pretty girl slipped between her legs; finding Annette's sex for a rude bit of groping.

The lovely MILF and the sylph ground pelvises against one another. They felt their passions rise, however something else was rising; that being Annette's feeling of change and uncertainty. She sensed flux and chaos amidst the desire and love that was overtaking her.

Her eyes continued to narrow until they became slits as the girl's lips, limbs, and lady-loins did their work, (and with that narrowing Annette saw the sky that had been bright and beautiful now seem to turn fast with dark clouds that swirled with alternating shades of purple, grey and black). The wind began bending the trees and the two women found themselves pelted with leaves and chaff as they continued to make love in the manner of great poetess Sappho. The sun disappeared behind the whirling clouds and the world seemed to have transformed itself into a tempest.

Annette oddly felt no panic in what whirled around her. To her change meant chaos danger and risk but it also meant opportunity. For now, she merely let the storm blow as she rolled the girl over and kissed her, sliding down her body until she found the sex of the pretty pixie princess.

Shelby parted her pretty pink puss-lips and Annette's tongue plunged into the girl's sex. The pixie's hips rose and fell, rose and fell against the mouth of her mistress as lightning flashed now across the heavens. Rain fell lashing the two, it was then that Annette heard Shelby's voice ring out in a scream, not in ecstasy but out of sheer panicked terror!

Annette's head whirled about and she squinted through the driving rain. A flash of lightning illuminated her cheeks. A second later her eyes went wide. Her mouth opened to scream but no sound emitted from within. She could not move save her eyes.

There... not ten paces from the two women; sky-lined on a slight rise and standing in the pelting rain and wind were a pair of shapes. They belonged to two superbly mounted men possessing sinewy muscled forms. At first sight through the gale Annette had thought it odd that she could not see the heads of their mounts, but a second lightning flash that cracked the sky revealed to both her and Shelby the fact that the men were not riding. They were conjoined to powerful equine bodies, each atop four sturdy horse legs; centaurs!

Another scream from Shelby snapped Annette from her paralysis and she spun around to hold Shelby close and protect her. Shelby's eye's however betrayed to all present that she was well in the grip of the fight-or-flight response and that the latter had already won. She rose into the air like a terrified hummingbird, fairy wings flitting frantically and shrieked at the top of her lungs,

"Annette run!"

Annette made it to her feet and she reached out to Shelby; only to see the girl dart away in terrified haste like one of the many leaves blown by the wind. She attempted to run. It was no use as both of the fearsome beasts easily covered the distance with long strides.

One of the creatures out-flanked her and wheeled about, blocking her exit. She looked up at him, a great tall African man with powerful arms and a leering expression. She recognized the face and for a moment her fevered mind forced her to blurt out,

"TED?"

The man-beast reared and kicked with his front hooves as though pawing the air. He opened his mouth to reply but it wasn't Ted's voice that came forth. Instead her ears were met by the bellow of an angry stallion; snorting and whinnying with rage and lust while a long horse phallus swung below its belly like a black-grey pendulum of flesh.

Annette spun again to run the other direction. She ran straight into the chest and fore-body of the second beast, a powerful exquisite Caucasian with northern features, a strong chin and sculpted cheekbones, all atop the body of a powerful stallion with brown hair matching the thick locks on his head. He was beautiful and terrifying; as beautiful and terrifying as his erect pink and grey dappled horse dong that rose and fell against his belly like some crude sort of equine sex cudgel. She again recognized the face and blurted in surprise,

"BRAD? WHAT ARE..."

She was met with another angry snort and stud bellow as the white centaur stamped the ground before her with seething power and desire. Before her mind could register what was happening, the black centaur seized her from behind in two powerful arms; throwing her over his shoulder with brutish ease. She felt the powerful black spin around with her as she was carried off in the direction of the crumbling temple; his thick bicep and fore-arms holding her in place over his back as she held onto his shaggy black horse hair. Her heart was now filled with equal amounts of helpless terror, trepidation, and oddly enough... lustful excitement!

Her mind was a blur. She could only feel the great speed at which they hurtled ahead; the wind roaring in her ears. She no-longer seemed to experience thought; only images and sensation as she found herself tossed about like a sack of meal on the back of the black galloping man-stallion as the pale Euro-centric centaur thundered alongside; attempting to snatch her from his companion and take her for his own. The two beasts may have been companions, but when it came to a female as beautiful as this, they were as two competitors; each wishing to satisfy his selfish savage needs with her... and in her!

Upon arriving at the grounds to the ruin both horse-men skidded to a halt. Annette found herself heaved crudely by the black from his shoulder and forcefully tossed across a marble column that lay toppled on its side; shattered and useless until now, (as the two man-beasts now had a new purpose for it). The broken stone support would serve as a breeding platform for their lovely helpless captive.

All Annette's strength and ability to resist was gone. They were simply too strong and too powerful. She was too terrified and too awestruck.

The black reached down with an enormous hand and seized her garments, tearing them away easily. He flicked the rags away, sending them sailing off out of sight in the wind. Annette now lay naked before two towering forms that leered at her hungrily, their horse-cocks swinging menacingly in anticipation of what was to come next.

The "Brad-beast" attempted a grope at Annette's nudity, only to take a bone-crushing punch to the jaw from the black "Ted-taur." The dappled bay Caucasoid man-horse bellowed in protest; rubbing his face and snarling with rage, but he backed down. He knew he'd have to wait his turn; his lip trickling blood from the black's thunderous right cross. The Ted-taur now turned to her, glaring with red eyes.

With a forceful hand, he seized her by her raven locks. He was immediately on the marble column, straddling the broken cylinder with his four muscular legs to either side; tail flicking back and forth in the wind. It was then he leaned forward and pulled her face up to his; uttering crudely the first human words she'd heard from either of the horsemen,

"You...will...(SNORT) SUCK...ME!"

It was more roar than words and Annette's mind at first didn't register what she'd been told, but he roughly thrust her down between his front legs and she immediately came face to face with his loins; an angry demonic black club of a dong, veiny and throbbing between two fist-sized testicles. Her nostrils were immediately assaulted by the funk of horse-balls, matted hair, and sweat. She might have run but it would have been no use. The pulsing black phallus rose and fell before her, angry and waiting.

Strangely now, her terror melted like ice upon a hot stove; replaced by the oddest sensation possible - lewd fascination! She simply couldn't tear her eyes from the throbbing eighteen-inch tube of flesh with its odd bell shaped head and yawning pee-hole. Veins ran up and down its length like vines covering a teak-log branch that pulsed and twitched in anticipation of female contact; the fact of Annette's humanity having no bearing on this rude instrument's needs. It needed feminine flesh and in all its raging testosterone fueled fury, beast or beautiful babe simply made no difference!

Annette reached out... and grasped the foot and a half long column of flesh in both hands as if it were a baby elephant's trunk; marveling at the throbbing warmth below the black skin. It was full of blood. Somewhere above her the black man-stallion whinnied and snorted in excitement. She however paid him no mind as she marveled at the crude flesh. She opened her mouth as wide as she could; bringing the leathery mushroom head to her lips.

The black's eyes went wide and he snorted with heady excitement. He felt the woman's mouth begin to work the end of his knob as her hands ran up and down is shaft rapidly and roughly. His lip quivered and he stared off into the wind and rain...not seeing, only feeling.

Annette gorged and nursed the horrid instrument; ashamed at what she was doing... yet simultaneously thrilled beyond words, beyond thought, beyond reason. She ran one hand down the underside of the coarse shaft and found the pair of warm meaty balls; cupping first one and then the other and then back to the first again. Her other hand stroked, stroked, stroked along the shaft as her mouth sucked, sucked, sucked the bell-shaped head; all the while the raging black above her snorted and bellowed in the triumphant joy of sexual male conquest!

What was she doing? This was insane! She wanted the cock of a beast in her? REALLY? Her mind however could not have cared in the least; she craved this, as foul and forbidden as it was it thrilled her to no end, and therefore she rammed it into the back of her throat now with reckless abandon as the beast whickered and snorted.

Her hands and mouth worked in filthy bestial coordination and soon she tasted a hint of what was to come (or better still cum), as her tongue clearly detected the tell-tale note of pre-ejaculate trickling from the end. Her hand found her snatch and she strummed herself frantically as her tonsils hammered on the "manimal's" throbbing sex organ; over and over and over again. It was all the Ted-taur could do to merely stand and take the exquisite sensation of the lovely mouth upon him; his legs quivering and his lips trembling below flaring nostrils.

It did not take long, she heard the shrill bellow as the black achieved his point of no return. A moment later and she felt the salty hot rush as the black's balls shuddered in her palm and send molten goo into her gulper. It was a torrent of molten male magma, spilling over her lips and running down her chin; yet she gulped nursed and swallowed what seemed like a bellyful. It was strange to her, salty and yet with a grassy taste, as though all things green and grazed from the fields were distilled in this briny essence, and she wanted more!

She pulled back and the great beast stepped back from the column. They made eye contact, he whinnied and snorted; much calmer now, as if she'd fed him an apple and scratched behind his ears. She looked into the eyes of the handsome black man and saw they were softer now. Her expression was now a quizzical stare; could he go again? She opted to find out.

She hopped off the column and spun around; placing her head and shoulders low on the top of the cylinder with her ass high in the air, supported by her feet and lovely legs. It was as if she were bent over a desk. The alpha male Ted took the hint and a foot and a half's worth of horse cock sprang back to life, banging up and down against his belly.

Annette heard Ted bellow and snort and she shut her eyes; not knowing what would happen next. She flinched as a pair of heavy front hooves smacked the marble to either side of her with a heavy clatter. She opened her eyes and a split second later, she felt it. Eighteen inches of horse-cock was pushing at the entrance to her quim-hole.

Her opening resisted and then yielded as her puss-passage gave way to unstoppable force. Annette let out a scream of pain melded with pleasure as a determined horse dick, gained entrance and pushed up inside. She felt him split her, and run in straight to the limit of travel. She let out a panicked EEEEYYYAGGGHHH! and then paused, catching her breath as oddly, he waited for her to become accustomed.

She reached over to a horse leg next to her, and patted it; running her hands through the shaggy black hair. The cock inside her remained stationary. She found her breath. She patted the leg reassuringly and a large black hand reached down between the two front horse legs and tussled her hair.

"Ok," she said up to him, "start!"

He began to fuck her. She began to grunt and push back against the monster dong that was splitting her. She began to stretch and accommodate, and love it!

She leaned to one side out from under the front leg of the black and beckoned to the other centaur to approach. The snorting Brad beast complied cautiously at first, wary of Ted's temper. She reassured Brad.

"Come on up alongside baby," she said, "he won't hurt you, not with his cock stretching my snatch!"

In the end, the need for female touch outweighed Brad's concern. He found himself standing alongside the black, his cock pulled from underneath his belly and a sharp angle and straight into the waiting mouth of Annette. She was now, "skewered"; massive cock at one end and massive cock at the other. She began to fuck and suck, happily spit-roasted.

It didn't take long for Brad. In what seemed just like a few blissful gluttonous minutes for her she tasted his pre-spendings; grassy notes of salinity dancing on her tongue. She throated and gagged and shortly brought him to a roaring crescendo. His cock spouted like a salty fountain and again hot salty warmth ran down her chin, neck and breasts, as well as straight into her greedy stomach. He'd been spent, and he stepped back to allow the alpha to finish with her.

The Ted beast began to thrash harder and harder rutting himself into the sex of the impassioned woman beneath him. She now was feeling a whole new level of splitting satisfaction; deep hard and powerful. As he snorted and raged she cursed and swore and egged him on. At last he bellowed again, as if struck with a mortal wound. This time she screamed in joyous agony as a climax ripped her from head to toe. The horse-cock lurched, jerked, and filled her quim to the brim with hot ropes of salty horse-juice.

"Waaahhh!" she awoke.

She was in her Covent garden flat. It was morning. There was a young man; probably nineteen sleeping next to her on his stomach. On the other side of her, her maid Felicia; naked and lovely slumbered peacefully. Down between her legs the sheet was warm and moist. The dream had brought her off, good and hard. She brought damp fingers to her lips; expecting to taste grassy notes, but only finding her own sweet puss drippings.

A new day had dawned. Felicia rolled on her side and yawned. She looked up at her employer with bedroom eyes.

"You cannot sleep?" she asked.

"No," Annette answered, "I just woke up. Had a vivid dream."

Felicia ran a hand between her boss's legs. Her fingers immediately found Annette's effluvial dribblings on the sheet, (and on her employer's puss lips). She smiled happily and popped a finger in her mouth.

"By the feel and taste of things, it was a wet one!"

She laughed at her own joke; glancing at the slumbering youth to Annette's other side. He'd been merely some cute lad Annette had found at the club last night and brought home. She'd been going out every night ever since her two cubs, Brad and Shelby, had left for the continent.

Whatever this slumbering boy's name was; be it Cyril, Nigel, Eddie (or whomever), it simply didn't matter. He was nothing more than a spent tissue and a notch on the bedpost. What's more, Felicia knew; he needed to be out on the next Uber leaving this place and Felicia also realized Annette probably needed breakfast.
It was twenty minutes later; just as the cab pulled up and the freshly showered young stud hurried out the door with a kiss (and a lie from Annette that she wanted to see him again sometime), that was when she received the text.

"BOSS WHATEVER IT IS PUT IT IN A CAB AN SEND IT HOME NEED U IN AMSTERDAM"

She chuckled as she sat in a robe at the table over a half finished glass of juice, the sound of the rest of her breakfast sizzling in a pan being guided by the capable hands of Felicia. The cubs may have gotten themselves in trouble in Amsterdam. Oh well, she liked trouble.

She'd allowed them to go off and spearhead an acquisition for Praetorian Group in Holland. This was a chance for the two to shine and do preliminary assessments (and it was also a validation for Annette's special projects directorate; upon which she'd placed her two former interns at the helm of). It was their chance to shine but it was also Annette's chance to take a risk; more than a few corporate opponents would be watching at a distance, (hoping to detect a sli-up no doubt). She couldn't allow that to be seen. Most likely she'd have to swoop in and "check on things."

Truth was, she'd been thinking of following after them out of a mixture of concern and corporate cabin-fever during their absence. They'd been gone a few weeks now and London's West End was already dreadfully boring without that pair of delicious delinquints. She missed her wittle cubbie-wubbies awww-fully so! This "problem or whatever-it-was," gave her a pretext to get out of London and back on the continent where she belonged!

"I thought you weren't working today," said Felica, stepping up behind her.

She reached around her boss, placed a steaming hot breakfast on the table and then she spied Annette's neck and noted it was most-unguarded. She kissed her pretty short haired employer just below the ear; giving her a peck and a playful nibble as she pulled away. Annette smiled wryly at the touch of Felicia's soft lips and replied,

"I guess it wasn't in the cards dear, either that or your boss is a shameless liar."

"I think both are true mi amor," replied Felicia; commencing to rub Annette's shoulders as the lovely brunette dream boss took her first bite of the day, "but you lie very well. So am I calling for the car and the plane?"

Annette looked confused then down to her text. A look of shock and chagrin spread over her face that melted into a smile. Felicia not only kept a clean house and cooked impressively, she possessed the eyes of a falcon. She tilted her head back and turned her face upward as a hand shot up into Felicia's long luxurious head of Catalonian hair; pulling the beautiful Spaniard down for a snog. Woman's lips found woman's lips in a deep kiss that pressed and flowed back and forth like warm luxurious honey. Annette at last broke things off to gaze dreamily into the eyes of her assistant saying,

"Yes, I think that will be good. I want to leave this afternoon. Pack dear, you're coming with... "

Felicia turned happily and stepped from the breakfast nook, and rounded the corner to step into the shower; her ass swinging deliciously beneath her pale shift. Annette's eyes followed her as her maid left, noticing ever exquisite movement of the young woman's form. For Annette (a lover of all pretty things), she'd definitely chosen well; Felicia was competence, intelligence, and sophisticated pleasure (all bottled up in a hypnotically seductive container).

#

By 1:30 that afternoon, a Cessna Sovereign 300 screamed down a runway a few miles away and clawed its way into a late summer afternoon sky; headed to the continent across the channel. The Praetorian Group's corporate jet was now en-route to Amsterdam having left on time despite rather short notice. Secreted inside in plush leather accommodations were Annette and her loyal traveling companion Felicia, the aircraft's only passengers.

"Did they say what it was all about," Felicia asked.

"Nope, not a word, "Annette replied, turning her head from the window, "but my gut tells me it should prove interesting. They wouldn't tell me I was needed away from the flagpole unless it was critical and i simply don't wish them to be seen as having gotten in too far in over their heads; not on the first big project with their training wheels taken off."

She paused and looked out the window again pensively. Something troubled her. It had to have been a real cock-up for them to not provide her with details.

She was concerned. Her mind formulated the worst and most embarrassing dilemmas that her cubs could have walked into. She should have sent Roger from legal along with them, or possibly Sandra or Gisele. How could she have been so careless and... then she caught herself.

She had no facts. She needed to get there and see what on earth it was before she opted to panic. After-all; why should she doubt those two? They'd been hand-picked by her, and not simply for being attractive (gorgeously so she admitted to herself), but also because they conducted themselves and their decision-making with a level of judgement beyond their years; those two... that devilishly beautiful pair. No, there simply had to be a logical explanation.

"So this is a mystery expedition of sorts?' Felicia commented wryly with an eyebrow cocked.

"Yep they've even kept the boss in the dark," Annette nodded turning her face back to the window, "we are going in blind but I suspect this is hot or they wouldn't have called me away from London."

Felicia snatched a thin woolen blanket from an adjacent seat spread it out across both their laps. The purple woolly cover had the Praetorian Group corporate emblem shaved into its plush fuzz and was just perfect for snuggling in the lap of luxury. She took Annette's hand and replied.

"Maybe it represents an opportunity, yes?" she asked, bringing Annette's hand over under both the blanket and under her business skirt between two lanky parted belonging to a Spaniard assistant who knew how to ease the boss's concerns.

"Besides," Felicia whispered breathlessly as Annette's fingers slipped beneath the Catalonian beauty's thong; touching her bare waxed quim, "feeling your way around in dark hot places can be so... rewarding?"

"Yes," said Annette, letting her fingers stroke up and down Felicia's puss-petals down below and enjoying how it made the Iberian nymph squirm in her seat, "and for being such a good helper, I intend to bestow a little reward of my own upon you sweetie."

Felicia happily wriggled and sighed like little worm on a hook at her boss's undercover caresses as Annette motioned the stewardess with two free fingers for drinks. A moment later and the young woman stepped down the aisle; a pair of sparkling glasses of Champagne in her hands. She handed the pair their bubbly and asked if there would be anything else.

With a polite "Thank you... no," from Annette, the flight attendant turned and went back to her station; pretending not to have noticed what Annette and Felicia were up to under that lucky little blanket. She'd seen this sort of thing before when Annette and anyone in her inner circle were flying. It was nothing new, and what's more; she deliberately kept her memory foggy concerning such things.

The Jet climbed higher into the afternoon sky. The two passengers sipped Champagne, in between soft giggles and appreciative wiggles; privacy assured. Below them, the cold blue expanse of the English Channel spread from horizon to horizon and beyond them, the European continent beckoned with a sweet siren-song call of lurid mystery for those bold enough to investigate.

#

A car ride from the airport and a ring of the bell at corporate retreat lodge desk later and the two travelers found themselves checked into a room. The retreat was comfortable enough and just a short drive outside the city, but it was a little bit plain and ordinary; as if the interior decorator had been a Dutch Calvinist who took the whole "Spartan no frills" ethos to heart with every aspect of the place. The beds were comfortable enough and the room was clean; just rather antiseptic and with flat blah green and orange coloring on the drapes and carpet. Annette mused that probably it all would have been quite stylish in the 1970s or 80s but now it simply had that quiet "grandma friendly" aspect to it all that she found a bit dull and tedious. She remembered however, that for all the dour trappings and muted tones she saw before her; this was STILL the country of a people who liked their naughtiness just below the subdued surface and THAT illicit aspect could be as flashy and colorful as any tulip show and as intoxicating as the contents of any coffee shop menu.

Felicia unpacked while Annette checked messages. She'd seen not so much as a peep from the cubs since she'd taken to the air, since back at breakfast in her flat even. She tapped into her phone tersely,

"ALRIGHT... MAMA IS HERE YOU TWO... WHERE ARE YOU?"

She didn't get an answer right away; didn't expect it either. The cubs were being quiet about something... or one or both had their phones off... or. Stop it Annette, she thought to herself, stop worrying. You are here... they'll update you shortly.

A foot massage from Felicia on the bed later turned into a sleeping pill for her; as she felt the overwhelming urge to knock off and close her eyes for just a bit. When the nap ended thirty minutes later she checked the phone again; Felicia spooning up against her with a chin nuzzling into Annette's shoulder blades in oh so just the way that the pretty brunette fancied. The text was there.

"VINYL TUXEDO 10 PM" was all the message from Shelby read.

"What the fuck?" Annette said under her breath, attempting to let Felicia sleep for a few more minutes unsuccessfully.

"Did you say something Mi Amor?" the sleepy Spanish maid replied, half in and half out of consciousness.

"Get your face on Felicia and get me a car," Annette said softly with a playful smack on the rump of the Iberian beauty spooning her tightly, "we are heading to the Red Light District in town."

#

Annette loved Amsterdam. She loved the Red Light District, (and more importantly it loved her). Trouble was, like an old lover - she'd been away from it too terribly long. It hadn't changed much.

Annette and Felicia had been dropped off by a company car at an Argentinean steakhouse for dinner and then the two began a walk through the Dutch streets to meet that familiar paramour, the district. The thing was, as soon as it the ladies left the restaurant, Holland started bot become Holland. It began to rain. That old lover, the District, apparently got wet simply with Annette's very approach!

The two ladies simply decided to brave the water spilling down out of the sky and pressed on; east along Damstraat across the canal, their high heels clicking on the streets in between the spatter of the raindrops on the sidewalk. One thing was certain, the weather forced most of the young anarchist bicyclists Amsterdam was so famous for off the streets and back into the coffee houses; clearing the way ahead for the pair. The two women had the streets to themselves except for the odd Asian tourist group with umbrellas.

Two pairs of heels now click click clickety-clicked on the street as the rain abated slightly; large water drops falling from the trees as they turned north on the canal and headed up the Oudezijds Achterburgwal. Ahead gaudy neon in pinks, greens, and shocking magenta illuminated their path. Annette was back; she was home ...come out and play everyone, she giggled to herself.

"What did you...?" Felicia asked looking up from Annette's phone after checking her bosses' messages and finding nothing from the cubs.

"Oh nothing," Annette replied, "let's just go."

The two moved instep up the edge of the canal. It was the same old same old that greeted them; sex clubs, sex shops, brothels, window girls. Nothing new and yet it was different each and every time. What was it the old Greek philosopher Heraclitus had said? You cannot put your hand in the same river twice?

Up ahead in the dripping street to one side was Casa Rosso. Its infamous pink neon elephant as always appeared to waive them as they passed, as if to greet them and pull them inside. Annette had sat on many pink couch (and almost as many faces in that establishment). It was a place brimming over with fun and with hot steamy memories...

But perhaps another night darlings, yes? Annette thought to herself.

Yes, business first. You can make up for lost time in there later dear, she answered the question in the back of her perpetually naughty noggin. She knew how to suppress her desires; delaying pleasure and gratification when work dictated it to be so, but to always come back and satiate those same desires and scratch those itches later. It was a skillset that had served her well and allowed her to climb to the top of the corporate ladder, and more than a few heaps of sweaty undulating bodies.

They passed the window girls, clad in fishnet stockings who eyed them coolly until one gum popping street window strumpet leaned close to her glass, deliberately fogging the pane with flaring nostrils; drawing a little heart for the two ladies as they passed by. She pouted in a kissy pucker, then made a "V" with two fingers and ran her tongue back in forth between them. Annette flicked a "V" back at her and responded in kind while Felicia on Annette's arm pointed to her watch and shouted through the glass,

"We are late for something honey but perhaps we'll be back? We komen later terug?"

The girl in the window crossed her arms and pouted in feigned disappointment, before she then began mugging for a group of chubby Middle-Eastern businessmen heading up the sidewalk from the other direction. Annette and Felicia turned and kept walking. In fifty meters they saw their destination.

High above the sidewalk a glaring neon sign outlining a women wearing gaudy green and blue tuxedo with a gentleman's top hat cocked rakishly on her forehead beckoned them forward against a pink background. The men standing about at the door below were both clad in similar attire; all quite whimsical and over the top in their appearance. Annette and Felicia had located the Vinyl Tuxedo, now they needed to find the cubs and get to the bottom of all this.

Annette wasn't angry yet as she passed between the two tuxedoed doorman with their heavy eastern European accents. She was more like a mom, expecting to get the story first before she passed judgment or chastisement on her two darlings. They were her cubs after all, and she loved them dearly, but even a mummy has limits to her patience and the story had needed to be good.

The club was downstairs, below street level. Euro pop music streamed up from behind a door and in front of door stood another eastern European in a tuxedo.

Why did the good clubs always go down? Annette commented to Felicia. It's so hard to get up a flight of stairs if the fun was particularly FUN.

Felicia nodded and chuckled at her bosses' joke as she led her by the arm down the staircase to the door at the bottom of the stairs. A big fellow in the tux politely popped opened the door and welcomed them in Dutch laced with a heavy Russian, or Belorussian, or whatever eastern European cabbage-eating-language it was. He smiled with a mouth full of gold teeth and held the door as both ladies stepped through into a basement chamber full of darkness, black lights, and Euro-pop music.

The whole place smelled of smoke, spilled alcohol, and that usual clubby dusty "can't quite describe it but dammit please scrub it again," scent that was not at all helped by a bit of burning incense somewhere out of site. It was also quite busy; packed it seemed with a sea of latex clad women and euro males. Most of them looked typically Dutch; meaning all rather tall, slender, and elegant. A few of the clientele were of the overly horny Asian businessmen or boorish Mid-Eastern variety but they were tucked away in dingy dark corners with well-paid female company for the evening, and those fellows were generally behaving themselves.

The club itself was... well, PINK. In fact, pink and garish summed it up nicely. Kindly even.

To one far side ran a long bar with several patrons quietly nursing drinks or queuing up for 'yet another one.' The space was framed by hot pink walls adorned by full length gilded mirrors; providing an illusion of the room being far vaster. Scattered about the room were gaudy low loveseat couches of some cheap pink pleather material all facing inward to the club's center. There lay a pink padded circular stage; much like a boxing ring except it was surrounded by a shimmering silver curtain, suspended from the ceiling.

Pink shiny pleather was in fact ubiquitous; the club's designer having simply gone mad with it apparently, (in what could have been a complete breech of taste or a stroke of inspired genius). More of that same gaudy pink leather padding surrounded the bar, barstools, and fake support columns. Pink puffy pad even ran up the wall surrounding the entrance to the water closets; giving the restroom corridor the puffy anatomical look of an orifice, (wholly feminine, vulnerable, and aroused). The effect was to provide whole establishment with the resemblance to chewed bubble-gum under black lighting, everywhere that a person looked.

Felicia wrinkled her nose at the sight in contempt mixed with genuine disgust. Annette loved how fiendishly ugly it all was. Their eyes turned to the center of the room surveying the stage; appropriately padded in more of that same shiny pink whatever it was beneath the curtain of silver.

Felicia looked at her watch. She checked the phone. She shrugged to Annette.

"Well boss," she commented, "we're here and its ten. No sign of Shelby or Brad."

"Patience dearest," Annette said wrapping an arm around her assistant but still looking about the room for the cubs as well, "there is still plenty of night left for them to show. Besides, aren't you curious what will take place under that curtain?"

#

From behind them at the bar, a woman in a black latex mini-skirt and matching biker jacket observed them, dropping pretentious black designer shades that were obviously a clichéd fashion statement; all the better to ogle them with cool green eyes beneath mane of short wild black hair. She replaced the shades and ordered two champagnes from the bar. She then approached Felicia and Annette with drinks in hand.

"Right," announced, stepping into the personal space of both women and taking them by surprise, "here you are. You are on time, in the right spot, and you're on stage in ten minutes."

She handed the champagne to the two bewildered women and then made introductions of a very brief and hurried kind.

"I'm Ami," she said in American English, "I hope you didn't have trouble reaching us here on such short notice, right?"

"Well no," Annette replied, "but we were supposed meet with two of my..."

"Kirsten here will get you off to the dressing room," Ami interrupted, as if there was not another moment to be wasted, "you can change there."

A tall brunette woman with a bob haircut immediately approached Annette and Felicia from the opposite side. She wore a black tux jacket with a bowtie and white blouse up top (covering ample bosoms), and merely a thong and fishnet stockings down below above shiny black heels. She motioned politely for the two ladies to follow her.

Annette was in a state of shock and chagrin. Obviously there had to be a mistake of some sort but at the same time, her sense of adventure spurred her and Felicia on. The cubs weren't present and the night was young. She attempted to protest half-heartedly but Ami was resolute that both women were in the place they were supposed to be. Kirsten pointed the way again for them patiently.
"Ladies please, if you'll follow me this way," the tall woman said politely in an accent Annette guessed was German.

Annette and Felicia found themselves taken through a side door to the club's dressing room. There the two shimmied out of their club wear and soon found themselves standing in nothing but their jewelry and heels as they finished their Champagne, (giggling about what might come next). Kirsten stowed their belongings in a locker for safe keeping and then handed them a plush pair of spotless white robes.

She then had them follow her out back out the door and into the club. The house lights went low and dark as the trio approached the stage quickly. Kirsten held the silver curtains open for the ladies; giving them a hand up onto the plush platform inside before stepping up through the curtains herself and closing them behind her. The house lights came up and the people not already seated began to amble to the pink couches with drinks in hand.

Not three minutes later, Kirsten emerged from the stage through the curtains and was immediately hit by the white glare of a spotlight as a jazz fanfare heralded the opening of the first act. She seized up a microphone and addressed the audience.

"Ladies and gentlemen," her voice boomed through the club, "welcome to the Vinyl Tuxedo. For tonight's first performance, I wish to give you, the lovely Annette and Felicia in a little number we call... THE STRAIGHTJACKET!"

There was a clatter of applause in the crowd as spotlight moved to the stage and the silver curtain rose to the ceiling. It was now readily apparent as to the origins of the Vinyl Tuxedo's moniker.

In the middle of the now rotating stage lay two trussed up forms; those of Annette and Felicia. They were in red straightjackets of shiny rubber; facing away from one-another, heads down and bare asses up, (and looking delightfully helpless and vulnerable)!

Next to them on the stage lay a large bowl of fruits and vegetables. It was apparent the word 'Tuxedo' was a euphemism for straight jacket and one could easily guess to what purpose the bowl of produce served. As the jazz band began to play a brassy cabaret style number, Kirsten picked up a rather elongated cucumber from the bowl and proceeded to remove all doubts with...

"Ladies and Gentlemen, damen und herren, one and all; I have before you an ordinary cucumber. Please observe as I transform this mere garden delicacy into an instrument of mutual pleasure!"

With that she produced a small paring knife. Her hands flew into action, peeling at the foot and a half long gherkin and removing its skin in short order while the crowd looked on. She then made precision cuts and whittlings at both the ends so that after a few moments time the shape of the veggie was transformed. Satisfied with her handiwork, Kirsten held it aloft for the audience to see; it was now a peeled pickle with expertly crafted penile heads at both ends ... a garden variety double-ended dildo!

Kirsten mounted the stage and with a bit of exaggerated showmanship, placed herself behind Annette's upturned ass with both hands; parting the cheeks as if she were inspecting an item at a farmer's market. She knelt forward and ran her tongue up and down the trussed up woman's twat blossom, her top hat moving from side to side as she gobbled.

It was clear to all those nothing was being simulated here; it was all quite "real deal" as Kirsten went to work with lips and tongue, high on the slowly turning stage. The rude ringmistress burrowed around like a friendly termite; even coming up to tongue-bugger Annette's vulnerable bottom-hole while shooting the crowd an over-the-top winkie-wink, (punctuated by a drum-shot from the orchestra off stage for a touch of perverse burlesque).

Annette squirmed her hips at this with delight, (and very much in her element). She loved being helpless, she loved a lady's touch, and most importantly of all; she simply loved being the focus of attention. With around fifty sets of eyes watching her from every conceivable direction; that last itch had been scratched for her in spades!

Ringmistress Kirsten now moved with more exaggerated panache to Felicia's upturned bottom. She repeated what she'd done earlier, and just as in the case of Annette the pretty Spaniard's bum bounced and wriggled with each wicked tongue tickle. The audience watched and blinked in rapt attention until Kirsten again popped up her head like a top hatted jack-in-the- box; licking her lips and winking at the crowd (as a drum-shot sounded).

With a strength and dexterity Annette and Felicia had not counted on, Kirsten now picked up and adjusted the two restrained women as if she were moving garden furniture; adjusting the pair until both upturned bottoms were facing one another. Snatching up the cucumber, she fed one green cock-head end into Annette's sex hole before doing the very same with the other end in Felicia's pretty pink poke-pit. Now both women were linked together like two latex wrapped railroad cars by foot-long pickle.

Grabbing both upturned bottoms, Kirsten brought both asses together on the rude little veggie; producing noticeable gasps from the two helpless ladies as the gherkin stretched their insides ever so nicely. She then pulled both asses apart ever so slowly; allowing a bit of saliva to run off her tongue and onto the precise places where cuke met puss. She looked up to the crowd and shouted with a note of lewd mischief,

"I will now do my best imitation of AN ACCORDIAN!"

At that she brought the two delightful ass-valentines to one another; pulling them apart a second later and pushing back together again in a lovely rump to rump smash. She repeated the action over and over as an accordion in the house band played a swaying donkey HEE-HAW HEE-HAW HEE-HAW series of notes. The action produced a score of giggles from the delighted audience and a set of sighs from Annette and Felicia. Once again Kirsten hammed it up and winked to the crowd.

Reaching into the bowl of produce, Kirsten pushed aside the fruits and greenery, seizing up a tube of flavored lubricant. She then snatched up two sets of pink anal beads attached to large plastic pull rings. Again she shot the crowd her now signature punchline wink.

"Ah" she hollered to the crowd of onlookers, "it would appear we have two holes here that are most lonely!"

Running a tongue lewdly across her lips, she tickled the two upturned anal puckers with her fingertips; sending both bottoms squirming from naughty delight at the sensation. Both bum-holes soon found themselves occupied by a greased female finger that twisted and corkscrewed ever so gently. The sensation set the clits of both bound women to pulsing with excitement; both with hearts filled with anticipation (as well as rectums filled with Germanic fingers).

For her part, Annette was reveling at the reality of being dirt-chute drilled by the Deutshe dom's digging digit as the eyes of total strangers scrutinized the event over sips of drinks. Felicia enjoyed herself as well; however, she was most grateful for the fact that Kirsten obviously had a decent manicurist. Such grooming considerations being matter of safety as well as aesthetics given the activity and it was clear Kirsten was no novice at such diversions.

A few seconds later and Annette and Felicia felt new sensations as the fingers left their bottom puckers, only to be replaced by lubed up rubber beads on a chord; first one, then another... then another, (apparently all going to congregate in the same place it seemed). At about eight beads it was rather snug up inside things for the two women. At twelve, Felicia decided she knew how a full gumball machine felt.

Well, Annette thought to herself with a wicked grin, if those beads (much like the people of Amsterdam), liked to gather together in cozy intimate places... there was none more intimate and cozy a place than her lovely bum. She made a habit of keeping it open late for that very reason!

She giggled a little snort at her own joke. She wasn't laughing for long however; (neither was Felicia for that matter). As a greasy sixteenth bead found its way into the rather cramped accommodations deep up inside the two ladies, the snare in the darkened orchestra pit played a drum roll. Kirsten raised her voice up to the crowd.

"Ladies and gentlemen," she shouted over the drummer's din, " I give you my next imitation. I call it, THE TWIN CHAINSAWS!"

For a moment Annette and Felicia didn't register what had just been said. Between the snugness and the hot filthy humiliation of the act their minds were a blank. Both women wondered what Kirsten could have meant by TWIN CHAI...?

A split second later both got their answer, as an immense pull yanked through their insides with amazing swiftness and force. Where a moment before there had just been a mass of plastic slimy spheres and chord, there was now only void and pain mixed with searing hot pleasure. Both clits throbbed at the intestinal release so intense and overwhelming that both mouths fell open wide (and the manner of a Saskatchewan McCullough roaring to life in an evergreen forest of virgin timber), as two women involuntarily sang a chainsaw duet of,

"WHHHHAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH! HAAAAAAAHHHH AAGGGHHHHHHH"

Kirsten spread her arms like an eagle in triumph; two nasty beaded strings dangling from equally nasty fingers. The crowd erupted in a crashing of applause that sounded a bit like hard rain. Shouts and hoots rang out in the club. It was all truly remarkable and impressive. The ringmistress bowed awash in the glory of it all; as by sound of things she'd managed to start two beautiful heart-shaped chainsaws on the first pull of the chord! This was just the beginning of things; far more 'sawing' and noisemaking lay ahead for the two trussed up beauties as they thrashed back and forth against the cucumber plying their pussy-pits.

"Ladies and Gentleman," Kirsten shouted over the din of applause, "I think now these two backsides are stretched and oiled adequately..."

She dropped the pink beads and reached to the produce bowl once more; seizing up the paring knife and a zucchini of nearly half a meter's length. Her hands again flew into action. Trimming the ends of the oblong squash into a pair of rounded penile ends, she in no time at all achieved the shape she was whittling for. She held her art project aloft; a circumcised double headed veggie that would be the envy of any Mexican donkey show!

Annette and Felicia felt their rear-ends pushed apart once more by the ringmistress, only to have those very same upturned rectums subjected to a great poking snugness, as Kirsten without ceremony fed each end of the zucchini into their greased-up tailpipes. The German ringmistress mugged for the crowd as the band led by a muted trumpet player ran up and down blistering scales of increasing complexity and improvisation. Placing both of her hands on Annette and Felicia's lovely heart shaped keisters she shouted to the crowd with,

"Ladies and Gentlemen, for your entertainment now I have in mind a little magic trick. I shall now make both the pickle and the zucchini ... DISAPPEAR!"

With that she slowly pushed both delectable derrieres together. The Zucchini at first bowed upward slightly; taking on a bit of a distorted-upside-down horseshoe shape, but Kirsten had counted on this and placed one palm above the wayward bit of produce. She applied gentle pressure until the slightly willful vegetable found its way deep into the innards of the two women. Again the ringmistress pushed slowly at the two lovely bums until both came together in lovely bit of bumper car style buggery.

She'd done it! Kirsten held her top hat up high for the crowd in triumph; the audience responding with giggles and applause as Annette and Felicia responded with noticeable gasps. She'd made both the pickle and squash execute a "vexing veggie vanishing act" of the simply loveliest kind and the band played broke into a colossal brassy fanfare!

Both Annette and Felicia found themselves equally impressed. The fact that they'd not touched their salads at the Argentinean steakhouse earlier was compensated however in a bit of irony (as it seemed the salad was now touching them); in fact, they'd managed to completely swallow these double-headed bits of phallic greenery whole at both ends.

"See ladies," Kirsten said seizing up the microphone, "salads can be quite filling if done properly, and I am so happy to see you've 'all-gone' with your vegetables!"

Her dead-pan joke brought howls of laughter from the crowd, (and even nervous chuckles from the helpless Annette and Felicia). Kirsten again pushed the two trussed up trollops apart and brought them together over and over as the accordion in the orchestra pit played a series of see-saw notes; producing more chuckles from the audience and more gasps from the two female performers below her. She now had the crowd eating out of her hands, (although soon she'd have them eating out of something else entirely).

She pushed the two asses part one more time and reached down to seize the fouled zucchini dead center between the pair of stretched poopers. Her face became a crude sneer as she bit her lip. The crowd sucked in its breath in anticipation of something dramatic.

"But I think it is high time," Kirsten's voice rang out over the microphone, "that we put a little meat on the menu, yes? But first I need to clear the dishes."

With that, she gave the zucchini a good hard pull, (as though she were lifting up an oversized and over stuffed piece of luggage). Both ends of the zuke left the two upturned dung-holes with a noticeable FlLLLLFRRRRRRPPPPHHH! Annette and Felicia simultaneously felt the combined sensations of void and humiliation and wailed enthusiastically as their ears were met with gasps and applause from the crowd.

The ringmistress tossed the nasty veggie clear of the stage and clapped her hands loudly. She scanned the room. All eyes were on hers at the moment. She had the crowd, had them fast.

"I need a volunteer from the audience," she called out of the microphone.

She was met by an enthusiastic forest of hands. Of course for the opening portion of this next part of the show she needed a ringer, someone from the club. She saw her boss Ami and pretending to look elsewhere her eyes eventually settled on her short brunette employer.

"Yes you'll do," she announced.

The spunky little pixie brunette bounced up to the stage, removing her jacket and tossing it to the side. She then removed her latex miniskirt with the pop of a snap on one side - revealing a black thong panty atop her cute fishnet garters. Up top she sported only a black pushup bra that quickly came down to reveal a pair of 34's, (c-cups by the looks of things).

From Annette's vantage point thought she noticed something terribly familiar regarding those tits and bum she'd seen at the bar bef... no. It couldn't be, plus she was on the other side of the channel and this chick was a brunette. It didn't matter, Kirsten had her 'volunteer,' even if it was painfully obvious this first selection was highly 'canned and scripted.'

Annette and Felicia now felt themselves toppled-over onto their sides by Ami the manager, the cucumber snapping in two as they toppled. Both helpless women were briskly rolled onto their backs, their legs apart with the broken ends of the giant pickle protruding from their cunt-holes. Their asses were aligned resting arsecheek to arsecheek as the audience looked on with keen interest.

Before both restrained women completely understood what was happening their faces were mounted; Annette by Kirsten and Felicia by the spunky sassy Ami. As Kirsten pulled her thong to one side and settled onto Annette's muzzle, our heroine understood now completely what had been meant by 'meat being on the menu.' She was half right it seemed.

#

Seated in the audience an American couple in their fifties craned their heads slightly and watched as Kirsten and Ami squirmed their hips and sighed atop the faces of Annette and Felecia respectively on the rotating stage. The pair were dressed in the typical tourist uniform that identifies people from America and sets them apart from anyone else on the planet; cargo pants, hiking sandals, university t-shirts, and fanny packs, (plus a back-pack under their table). It could also be said that nurse Nancy Gardner and her fun loving hubby (we shall call him Mr. Sir for the purposes of this story), were enjoying the view immensely.

And ohhhh, what a view it was! Kirsten and Ami made slightly exaggerated expressions of selfish contentment as they continued to swirl and swish their hips atop faces of their two hapless prisoners. In the orchestra pit, the band picked up the pace by braking into a funky burlesque polka that sounded more appropriate for a Jewish wedding reception than a sex show.

As an accordion and a clarinet ran up and down deliriously happy scales, Kirsten and Ami each lifted their respective mount's ankles, as if each was holding bizarre handlebars to a jet-ski. Kirsten raised Annette's legs up high, forcing Annette's rear with its cucumber plugged pussy off the padded stage and rocking back in the process. As she did Ami leaned forward slightly and dove her head down to snatch a bite from Annette's bit of cucumber. The band punctuated the action with a snare drum shot and a cymbal crash as Ami chewed bits of pussy soaked pickle and winked to the crowd.

The action was repeated; only with Ami raising Felicia's hindquarters high and with Kirsten ducking low to chomp a bit of snatch-scented cucumber from Felicia's cunt. Another wink to the crowd from the munching ringmistress Kirsten was met with yet another drum shot and cymbal crash. The audience giggled and tittered at the vaudevillian humour as the same rocking and reciprocating pickle-eating gobblefest continued; again and again until both Ami and Kirsten had finished their "cucumber and snatch" sandwiches. Applause and hooting broke out as Kirsten; still seated atop Annette's busy lips raised the microphone and addressed the audience.

"Ladies, and gentlemen. It seems we still have a rather full fruit bowl up here; I also notice there are two rather empty cunts before myself and my lovely assistant. Might we have more volunteers to come down to the stage and sample the buffet?"

#

Her words were met with a veritable forest of raised hands. Quickest to shoot her eager little hand up was Nancy Gardner. She'd been most impressed by the performance and she was just simply dying to join in the fun. They had fun swing clubs back in Phoenix Arizona but nothing as debauched and wild as this, (and she and her hubby were people of "experience" if you take my meaning).

Her enthusiasm paid off, for out of the many hands thrust up to volunteer; hers and that of a tall blonde Dutchman were selected to approach the stage and be part of the show. Once upon the stage the Dutch gentleman was ushered down between Felicia's legs and Nancy found her head parked between Annette's parted thighs, as Ami and Kirsten (still mounted astride the faces of the captive Annette and Felicia), groped about in the bowl for some loose bits of fruit.

Annette and Felicia both craned their heads for a moment out from under the crotches of their riders. They watched as Kirsten seized up a fistful of black grapes and Ami secured a jar of candied cherries from the bottom of the fruit bowl. Again hands went into the bowl plucking out strawberries, dates, and dried apricots. Shortly thereafter, both Felicia and Annette found their cunt-holes being loaded-up, one round fruity nugget at a time; a candied cherry here, a plump black grape there...until they found themselves jammed with a rainbow assortment of juicy goodies, like a pair of kinky Christmas fruitcakes.
It was then they both stole a better peek at their prospective diners. Felicia scrutinized the tall blonde Dutchman patiently waiting to gobble all things shoved up her girlie-gonads and approved whole-heartedly at the chiseled high cheek-boned view. He instantly was met with a leering smile from her, which he rakishly returned.

Annette, peered over her latex bound chest and caught sight of Nancy and the vision of the gorgeous short-haired Auburn haired MILF put a flutter in her heart, (not to mention a twitch in her twat). She knew a hot looking experienced mature when she saw one and she anticipated her pussy was in for a marvelous time. Her perception as it turned out, would be simply uncanny!

Her thoughts were interrupted by the lowering of Kirsten's hindquarters once again upon her sexy snout. Apparently the German ring-mistress was ready for a bit more riding (as was Ami next door atop Felicia's already probing proboscis). Annette once more set herself to the task and made like a trussed up termite; tucking in with tongue and teeth deep inside the twat of the Teutonic temptress. It was then she felt something extraordinary - Nancy's talented multitalented mouth... and oh what it could do!

This time Annette gobbled with a bit more gusto; perhaps a bit out of a freshly found fondness for Kirsten's Kraut Kipper, but more likely out of appreciation for the hot MILF munch happening upon her lovely puss taco, filling her with inspiration. It was oh so clear; Nancy was no novice at nuzzling a nymphomaniac's nookie-cookie. The jolt of pleasure Annette felt from the first sucking touch from Nancy's lips to her quim immediately shot up her pelvis and spine and forced her to thrash hips and attempt to flail arms inside the straight jacket. Annette simply couldn't contain all that pleasurable energy (she had to do SOMETHING), and it all translated itself into ravenous feasting upon Kirsten's pink and purple crotch truffle!

Kirsten's response was instantaneous. Her eyes went wide, (this time for FUCKING REAL instead of some vaudevillian mug for the crowd). Her mouth fell open slightly and she began swishing hips in a hedonistic oval of lesbian pleasure. Her hands came up to find her breasts, pinching her nipples through the fabric of her blouse and brassiere. It was simply too intensely pleasurable for her; audience be damned this Goddamned 'Annette' lady could fucking MUNCH TWAT!

Off came the ring-mistresses' sequined jacket and down onto the stage it went, the blouse and brassiere fluttering down on top of it a few seconds later in a heap of discarded clothing. Two Germanic udders capped with bee-stung pierced nipples now wobbled bounced before a gasping crowd as she tossed back her head, her mouth falling open. Her ringmaster's top hat fell jauntily down over one eye and cocked itself to one side as her fingers seized her nipple ringlets; twisting and pinching her glorious titty-nubs as if she were attempting to pull open a stuck drawer.

Someone in the orchestra thought fast; producing a "mooing" horn blat sounding like a dairy cow and the audience broke up in nervous titters and giggles. Kirsten couldn't care less. As far as she was concerned the audience and that silly orchestra didn't exist anymore; all she was aware of was that greedy mouth slowing eating her alive in such a marvelous fashion as to defy proper description, (and this from the Germans - a people with a word for damned near EVERYTHING in their lexicon)!

It went on for about another five minutes. Annette was a perfect frenzy of latex-trussed oral pleasure, being devoured at one end by Nancy, while simultaneously and ravenously eating Kirsten alive at the other. Next to them Ami cursed and whimpered atop Felicia's busy snout while down between Felicia's legs, the tall Dutchman showed just how well a Dutch boy could plug a leaky dyke with fingers lips and tongue, (well perhaps plug a lovely bi Spanish hottie as her legs thrashed frantically in the air and her pelvis furiously humped his face anyhow).

In the end; just like a groaning Zuiderzee sea-wall unable to stand cataclysmic pressure behind it, the women simply succumbed to the forces of Mother Nature. The air was filled with shrieks and splashes as Annette, Kirsten, Ami, and Felicia erupted together in wonderfully wet powerful splattergasms - drowned out only by the applause of the audience and the band, (which had mischievously chosen to play a few bars of Titanic's theme music). It was nothing short of spectacular and it was clear to all present; the women may not have gone down with the ship but they'd made a heartfelt performance of going down on one another!

The show was not over however. Oh no; it was only partway through, (and the band had plenty of sheet music). The rest of the audience was keen as well to share in the fun.

Kirsten rose to her feet as Nancy left Annette's sodden pussy and crawled up next to our heroine. Her lips found those of the still gasping Annette and the two shared a deep kiss. Nancy's lips then found Annette's ear as she said to her,

"Hi, I'm Nancy and I just want you to know you have the most gorgeous tasting pussy. I REALLY would love to have some private time with you alone sometime. You are beautiful."

"Nancy, I'm Annette. Such a pleasure and I feel the same way. We simply have to get to know one another under more private circumstances... but first, how about me getting to know you under some circumstance of a more public nature?"

"What did you have in mind honey?" Nancy asked already suspecting what Annette had in mind.

"Whatever the next portion of the act is," Annette explained, "stay up here and sit on my face, yes? I oh so wish to return the favor... and a very selfish part of me is dying to see what your pussy tastes like!"

"Well," said Nancy, raising her rump off the stage momentarily to shuck off her cargo pants and red thong beneath them, "who am I to refuse one as sweet as you hon? I know a good thing when I've eaten it!"

Kirsten looked down and seeing Nancy's wardrobe decision, nodded her head in approval, (surmising what the conversation must have been between Annette and the beautiful tourist). Nancy would be a superb addition to the act so she indicated she should stay up on stage. She also grabbed the tall lanky Dutchman named Peter by the collar and let him know that his services but not his pants were still required. With Peter's trousers and underwear tossed up on the stage a moment later, she offered him her hand; pulling pulled him up to stand next to her as she made her next announcement over the mic.

"Ladies and gentlemen, it would appear we still have plenty of fruit in the bowl that more properly belongs inside these two puss holes. Do I have any hungry diners wishing to sample the fruit plate?"

Again she was met by a forest of hands from an inspired and somewhat thirsty audience. The debauchery continued... and oh what debauchery it was!

As volunteers were selected and arrived down at the rotating stage, the orchestra fired up and began to play a hokey polka medley. Meanwhile Nancy simultaneously sat upon Annette's face and began rifling through the fruit bowl to locate juicy items for Annette's puss-pie, (in preparation for a long queue of diners Kirsten had selected from the audience. Next to Annette and Nancy, Ami squirmed her hips atop Felicia's soaked snout as she too fished around in the fruit bowl; intent on re-loading the Iberian nympho's empty nookie with brightly colored and green stemmed goodies for participants in the line to consume.

The queue of eager participants looked more like a two tailed snake as several selectee's lined up; either to sample the buffet at Annette's, or at Felicia's end of the pink rotating stage. In between Annette and Felicia stood the naked ring-mistress Kirsten, who continued to banter and tease the crowd over the feedback of the hot-mic. The microphone wasn't the only hot thing in her hands however, as Kirsten was now bent forward slightly at the waist; steering Peter's ten-inch penis the mouth of her pussy from behind with her fingertips.

The ardent Dutch-boy found the mouth of her sex slickened and delightfully yielding to his cock's stiff poke. He grabbed Kirsten by the hips and plowed his buttocks forward, shafting her deep and making the jaw drop open on the Teutonic temptress; her fingers dropped the microphone to the floor with a squonky crash and there is stayed. It didn't matter, she'd completely forgotten her spiel with the crowd and they were now just here for the lovely horizontal refreshments being laid out before them.

One by one they came over the next several minutes; gobbling whatever the contents of the two straight-jacketed had inside their dripping cunts. Nancy and Ami did their best to shovel goodies into the torrid twats of both the happily-bound broads.

At first the "down there" diners were as Dutch as a slice of Leyden cheese left in the break room of a wooden shoe factory. They were all tall and lanky, in that very slender Dutch "Euro-Model meets NBA player," sort of way... both the girls as well as the boys. It wasn't hard at all for Annette and Felicia to be eaten by such lovely specimens and the two ladies enjoyed lots of little "aftershock" orgasms as the diners kept arriving at the head of the line. Up atop the faces of the two trussed up hussies, Ami and Nancy rotated their hips and egged the line on; pausing only to shove more bits of fruit in those marvelously helpless pussy's beneath them, or to shudder and cum as Annette's and Felicia's snacking on their snatches overwhelmed them with wonderfully nasty orgasms of trickling lady-dew.

Behind the lovely Dutch-treats came a varied assortment of enthusiastic eaters. There was a large Russian fellow with a bushy mustache that made Annette giggle and kick slightly from the tickle. There was a pair of Italian women with gorgeous Sophia Loren features that twice reduced Felicia to a blubbering mess of kicking contentment, as the two Latin women took turns dining on the lovely little dish between her thighs.

All the while Peter pumped away furiously at Kirsten's pussy from behind as the ring-mistress simply stared off into space and took it... each deliciously deep-digging soul-poking stroke! Her top hat once again fell over her eyes; cocking itself this time to the opposite side of her pretty features. She pulled at her titty-rings and issued forth a series of heartfelt gasps and curses; each one seeming more happily profane than the last.

Peter was as it turned out; a master of edging and he was quite long-winded, (much to Kirsten's selfish delight). Without blowing his load, Peter stroked and stroked into Kirsten's kraut-kipper with a gusto that would be the envy of any pornstar; as long Dutch finger's reached around and fiddled her clit to wonderful agitations and arousal. The whole time he rode the edge of orgasm; like a dragonfly skimming across a canal, never quite touching his climax but close enough that his wings left a wake, (and a lovely trickle of pre-cum inside Kirsten to boot)!

The diner's kept coming, (even if Peter wasn't yet). Four Japanese businessmen who'd left their jackets at their booth approached with rolled up sleeves. Despite a distinct absence of wasabi in the establishment, the gentlemen had decided to put sushi on the menu and tucked in with two of them queuing up to Annette's lovely tuna roll and two at Felicia's piece of steamy sashimi over the course of several face humping minutes.

As Felicia and Annette blubbered and whimpered through yet another ass humping set of orgasms (thanks to the last of the Japanese suits), Peter it seemed had taken up a new position several minutes before. At least one Japanese-businessman-ago it seems; he'd brought Kirsten off in a mind-blowing head-shaking orgasm of tumultuous proportions; making her howl as if she were singing her way through the final act of a Wagnerian opera. Peter in a display of epic self-control, managed to hold his penis pudding back in his balls and now located a new target for his veiny pink trouser torpedo; that being none other than the lovely ass of Nurse Nancy as she bucked atop Annette's face.

It completely took Nancy by surprise. One second she was simply making sure Annette's happy hoo hoo was stuffed with lovely bits of pealed grapes and other goodies from the bowl, the next second a large bulbous cockhead was playing Dutch-Master with her pink puckered bung-hole, (not that she minded in the least; she simply adored surprises of a certain natured, depth and veiny girth)!

Nancy let out a gasp of pain mixed with pleasure and threw her head back and slightly to one side. Her eyes caught those of her hubby, Mr. Sir, (quietly sipping away at his drink below his ever-present Panama hat and enjoying the show most immeasurably). She gave him a wave and he returned it with wiggly fingers before he resumed nursing his cocktail; content in the knowledge that ...wifey was making such good friends on this vacation!

Down below Annette immediately noticed the Dutchman's intrusion into Nancy's most private of places. No problem, Annette figured... the more the merrier and all that. She now had simply more interesting things to lick and suck upon and ran out her long tongue to precisely the point where Peter's cock met Nancy's ass-crinkle, then she craned her lovely swan neck back to suckle on the happy Dutchman's balls before returning to Nancy's flowing snatch.

On and on the line of diners came. Annette and Felicia soon lost track and just let the lips and tongues run all together into one long cunt munching frenzy as they bucked in their straightjackets on the slowly revolving stage. It was about this time that Nancy and Ami ran out of fruit in the bowl. No matter; the diners didn't seem too disconsolate at having only beautiful juicing pussy to dine on, (and Nancy simply could care in the least as she was now absolutely consumed with the great Dutch cock skewering her innards from behind as Annette's tonguing had reduced her to a delightfully leaky vessel of puss dribblings).

It was not too terribly long before things had a rather cumulative effect for Nancy. Peter's proud penis pounding her poop-hole in competent combination with Annette's probing proboscis worked the hot MILF Nurse to an absolute orgasmic trainwreck just waiting to fucking happen. It was then that Kirsten (who'd been laying on her side watching the whole spectacle), rose to her feet, cocked her ringmaster's hat rakishly to one side and began to twist and pinch at Nancy's already swollen gumdrop nipples. It didn't take long for Nancy at all.

The sensation of Kirsten's Teutonic titty-twisters threw Nancy's brain into overload. She sucked in all her breath. Her head cocked to one side. Her mouth fell open but no sound came forth (for a second or two), then it all rushed from her lungs in a shriek heard all through the club...

"EEEEYYAAAGGGHH...AAAAGGGHH!" she wailed, (so loudly that the Arab businessmen in the far corner with their renta-girlfriends had to rise in their booth to see what had happened).

It was a real head shaking screecher of a climax for Nancy. She bellowed and shuddered and cursed with joy so loudly; even the band for a moment stopped playing before the band leader made a circling motion with one finger to keep the "hokey polka" music going.

Annette's lips and nose were met with a rushing warm splash as the pretty pussy aficionado slurped and reveled in Nancy's briny lesbian bukakke bath from above. It was fortunate Annette was quite accomplished as a SCUBA diver among other things; she wasn't one to be fazed by womanly wave hitting her face (in fact it was on a short list of things she loved about ladies). She took it all in stride (and down her hatch in several thirsty gulps).

Nancy sighed happily and doubled over. That one had been a biggie for her as orgasms go. It was upon a pair of shaky fawn legs that she rose from Annette's nose as Peter's pecker pulled itself from Nancy's poor pounded pooper and landed *PLOP* upon Annette's cheek lips and chin.

With the now nasty pecker slapped across Annette's puss-soaked face like a fouled fallen timber a bit of naughtiness leapt into her wicked little head. She adored the nastiness of it all; something the insatiably primal part of her libido simply loved and hungered for. Up until a moment before; two people had been ass-rutting over the top of her face and she'd seen and tasted it all as a total stranger (still down between her legs by the way), licked and chewed at her own juicy box.

She squirmed with excitement; delightfully helpless in the straightjacket as her nose huffed in the very essence of sex; raw, real, and wonderfully debauched. She decided to make the best of things; merely swiveling her head up and back as her parted lips seized the Dutchman's dirty ding dong for a good hard cleansing SUCK.

The impromptu pull on Peter's pecker sent his head back and shut his eyes with delight; the whole action taking him completely by surprise. As Nancy fell first to her knees and then in a heap at Kirsten's feet like a knocked out prize fighter, Peter merely rolled his head and reveled in the magnificent head he was receiving. It was all he could do to keep from busting both his nuts right then and there but he was no ordinary swordsmen. Although Annette could taste the tang of his pre-ejaculate, his balls did not empty for her. This became a matter of pride for her.

It was all a fleeting moment however, for Peter extracted himself from her pretty lips and knelt down to kiss her and whisper in her ear,

"I'll revisit this with you a bit later, yes?"

The two kissed and entwined tongues before Annette nodded in agreement, indicating she was up to his challenge. Peter now moved to the other end of the revolving stage, seeking out a new target. It came in the form of the delightfully round and heart-shaped bubble butt of the lovely brunette Ami, (who was grinding herself atop Felicia's face with joyous breathy gusto).

Ami had shut her eyes beneath her sunglasses so she was taken utterly and completely by surprise as she felt hands on her hips and the push of a freshly sucked Dutch dong at the door to her dirt-hole. No problem; anal sex was nothing new to Ami... and just like Nancy and Annette, it was actually one of the more decadently dirty pleasures she fancied. The fact that Peter's proud pecker was already well slicked with Annette's saliva and more than a little pre-cum made it all easier. A manly pull on her hips from Peter's hands and a lip biting wrinkle of her nose and the cock gained entry as easily as a barge moving up one of the canals in the city outside.

Annette watched this all from her vantage point and let out a satisfied chuckle, (laughing as much as one could whilst wrapped in a latex straightjacket with a complete stranger nibbling at her pussy like a rat on piece of cheese). It was all so humorous; the happily breathless and freshly- buggered dilapidation of Nancy on the floor next to the now gasping Ami getting her poor pooper pounded by the proud penis of Peter while below Felicia munched the pretty Brunette to new heights of delightfully drippy agitation. Despite the fact that she'd not located those two wayward cubs of hers, Annette was happily in her element; no mistaking that! There was only one thing that would have made this scene complete... Amanda.

As Annette watched ring-mistress Kirsten and Nancy conjoin next to her in what would best be described as a naked cuddle-puddle, she let her mind wander to thoughts of all things Amanda. Oh how she wished she were here... no doubt in the thick of it and enjoying herself immensely. That bit of longing for Annette was oh so real.

#

Amanda, dear Amanda; she was never too far from Annette's thoughts, (be it in a boardroom meeting, or getting happily banged into the headboard of a King-sized four poster). Whatever Annette did, Amanda managed to drift back into the back of her mind. The past few months had been happily exciting for Annette, (with regard to that oh so special "BFF with benefits").

Amanda, the lovely Texas call girl had popped back into Annette's life nearly a year before at a swinger party hosted in Surrey by Annette's dear friend Anika. Although the encounter between the two old lovers was nothing short of spectacular, Annette had worried it would amount to a one night stand and that she might not see her former lover again. It was therefore a happy surprise when Amanda contacted her the next day... indicating she'd stay in the London area for a few more days.

The two found themselves secreted like two happy peas in a pod up in Amanda's room at the Rathbone hotel for several days; frolicking and living off room service... wrecking bedsheets and each other's makeup. When Amanda eventually had to get on a plane and fly back to Austin, it was with the promise she'd be back. Annette took solace in the fact Amanda at least shared the inclination to have them see one another again but the realist in her said not to get her hopes up.

Once again, fate intervened. It seems Amanda's boss in Austin in few weeks decided to expand the business footprint and jump operations across the 'big pond.' Amanda was given a promotion to that of head of the 'European Interest,' as well as moving orders. No sooner had she set foot back in London, then she was expected to set up the toe hold for European wing of the call girl operation, (and in of all places, London's West End). Amanda's school for girls was born, (although none of the female members appeared to be either school age or particularly studious).

A few months later, Amanda had spread the 'business' footprint out like an oil spot; right under the very noses of the authorities. Amanda's exercise and meditation club was born on the East End, (although most of the clientele did not fit the description of Yoga or fitness buffs). It all brought her back marvelously close to Annette, but Amanda's work regime (and that of Annette's), had over the last few months put the crimp on things. What Amanda really needed was some competent leadership within her stable of girls with whom she could delegate day to day operations and merely serve as contact with the Austin home office. She also constantly was concerned about having the whole thing blowing up in her face.

#

Annette now wished more than anything wished she were here... away from the 'organization," just enjoying herself. She sighed a little huff of regret and then went back to simply allowing whomever that particular random stranger was down between her legs, to go about the business of eating her.

She could also see the line of selected diners coming to an end. At the very rear of things were what she'd best describe as a pair of British hipsters, a man and a woman and they were queued up to Annette and Felicia respectfully. Annette had heard them speak to one another and had picked out their East End London accents; cockney but with a level of grammar that spoke of education beyond working class roots. If anything, the hipster attire was a direct attempt to break away from humble beginnings, she surmised.

Oh... and were they ever sporting the 'look' too! The woman was petite, in fact she had the body of a little crumpet. The man was pleasingly tall and with long slender torso with powerful arms. Beyond that, the hipster stamp of shunned convention was etched on everything about them.

He was rockin the required beard; copied it appeared as the result of deliberate study of 19th century Anglican clergy...above which was an impeccably twisted mustache appearing to contain the wax of three beehives. Above that and atop a handsome nose, rested the standard issue lenseless glasses, (these in crimson and burnt umber rims). He wore a red Mister Rogers sweater, skinny jeans and tennis shoes with no socks, (to broadcast to the world his disdain for men's hosiery). His overall impression was that of a chiseled intellectual cross fitter meets tragically cool Russian writer, (the kind who uses thirty words if three did nicely and whose choice of killing himself would involve climbing to the top of his suicide note and jumping).

His female sidekick (and apparent piece of arm candy for the evening), was rocking a mini skirt with floral print. Beneath it, she wore yoga pants coming down to high top Converse sneakers. Over her shoulders she wears a man's shirt...above a mid-riff spaghetti strap t-shirt. Up top, the little she-biscuit had sported black lens-less glasses that matched her tendrils of inky black hair that stuck out beneath a grey knit hat.

She was oozing the tragically cool intellectual look clearly as much as he and trying to not be overtly sexual with her appearance, Annette could see as much quite clearly. This only might have worked with anyone else, but Annette not only loved beautiful faces and bodies; she was the quintessential sapiosexual mind-slut, and the sight of this brainy broad waiting patiently in the queue for Felicia's puss only served to make her clit throb with longing like a stubbed toe.

She didn't have to wait long. As the orchestra raced through more dizzyingly fast hokey polka tunes, the bearded cooler than thou Rasputin wannabee dove between Annette's thighs and commenced to gnosh. She expected the tickle of beard and the touch of yet another male tongue. She was not prepared for what followed.

Apparently the hand of fate had saved the best for last for her. She felt the brush of his beard sure enough, but then her clit and labia were subjected to a delightfully ravenous oral assault that made Annette suck in her breath and instantly raise her hips in pleasant surprise. Like Peter and Nancy before, the hipster was well versed in all things cunnilingual, (and she could tell that after just a mere twenty or so seconds as his lips and tongue sipped and nibbled her just-so). She wasn't at all sure how many languages this gentleman had mastered in his life but she was absolutely certain he was if anything; an accomplished cunninglinguist. Her hips began to hump his lips and muzzle accordingly and she let the sensation take over.

The only other man who truly could 'snuffle her truffle' this superbly was conspicuously absent. Sonovabitch Brad! If he'd shown up with Shelby like they'd agreed tonight it might be HIM dining on her twat waffle instead of this impeccably groomed rug muncher.

'Oh well Brad, your loss...' she thought. She could have the next best thing and simply enjoy this fellow, then she could subject bad-boy Brad to a face riding at a time later of her own choosing, and she let out a contented chuckle at this thought.

Oh but she soooo missed her Brad; who was she kidding? Even though she was peeved at him, she couldn't be too terribly cross with her Bradly Knight; her knight in shining personal lubricant. Aside from this strange absence; he'd been rather good to her... so good in fact.

As the licks from the bearded one down below lapped at her like a randy tomcat at a saucer of cream, she remembered something Brad had done a few weeks before; prior to him leaving. He'd actually popped it on her as a Saturday surprise for her, Shelby, and her long lost love Amanda, (who'd just set up the East End branch of her London operation). It fulfilled one of her more base of fantasies; public sex of a most casual nature. Simply put, he took Annette and the girls dogging.

#

He'd set it all up a few days in advance. He and his mates had known of a place on a motor way rest stop about an hour North of London following a roundabout. They'd all joked of it and by now it had given Brad a wicked idea. The joke became a means to scratch a very real itch for his boss (and lover). It coincided upon of all things, Annette's birthday.

He first arranged to borrow a rather run down four door from one of his East End chums. He'd also found some rather shabby down market used clothes. He gave them a whiff and the Mackelmore rap number, 'Thrift Shoppe' danced through his noggin,

"Shoulda washed this, smells like R Kelly's sheets - PISSSSSSSSSssssss, but shit - it was ninety-nine cents!"

He told himself it was just mold and mildew. He'd thought of washing the horrid rags but then thought the better of it. He smiled at the grime and grease (as well as other questionable stains), with note of satisfaction. One needed to smell the part as well as look it and yes, these would do nicely.

Annette was frightfully angry with Brad that morning but she'd possessed better class than to show it. Still it bloody-well hurt. He'd forgotten her birthday completely apparently. No gift, no flowers, no card. He may have been a straight white male; true, (but even that was simply no excuse).

She and Shelby (who'd remembered a gift and a card), went for a run in an effort to clear Annette's head and perhaps give Brad and his memory a second chance. He let them go. He could tell she was furious and had completely taken the bait. He then left and picked up the car and the wretched rags from an underground car park down the street.

When Annette and Shelby returned, the morning was half over. There was Brad, still without a gift, sitting in her living room. She felt the burn of rage well up in her.

"Well dear," he piped up as he rose to his feet, "how about that gift?"

She immediately brightened up. She looked around the room and over his shoulder, betraying anticipation. Her look was unmistakably that of an adolescent female; hopping up and down happily as she said,

"Oh yes please!"

He kicked a cardboard box her way from beneath the coffee table. She looked into the contents of the box and frowned. What was she supposed to do with those?

"Change into them," Brad answered, "I can explain on the way."

"On the way?" she replied incredulously, "Brad, Shelby and I need a shower and so do you... and..."

"You are not going to shower this morning," he interrupted, "you both need to stink the way you are now."

"What? Look I don't..."

"It's true," came a familiar voice.

Annette spun around and turned to the entrance to the bedroom. Standing in the doorway was Amanda. She was dressed in the same nasty 'hobo chic' clothing that lay in the box (and with a wicked grin etched across her face).

"Look hon," Amanda explained in her twangy Texas drawl, "I stink from last night's work and I need a shower but I think where Brad is taking us, you'll want to fit in. Besides, Felicia heard what we are doing and she's tapped out, but she'll prepare a lovely bubble bath and lunch for our return.

"Alright," said Annette, cautiously reaching into the box of clothes and hoping it had at least been de-loused, "if you say so."

"Trust me hon," Amanda replied, "you are gonna have the best birthday ever! You and Shelby just need to get those rags on your asses,"

And so they did. Not a half hour later, four shabbily dressed people left Annette's parking garage below her lovely posh West End flat in a beat up four-door that was an affront to existing emissions control laws. To the casual observer, it would appear that they'd burgled the place.

They now had that look and dinge of people who if they applied themselves; might someday aspire to the lowest rungs of the working class. They appeared to be a tawdry mix of bad decisions and bleak prospects, doused with gin, cigarettes, and funk. They had the look and wore it with accordingly smelly aplomb.

What followed was forty-five minutes of a chugging blue smoke-infused car ride to the highway round-about and then a swerve into a rest stop a few kilometers up the motor way. The rest stop as it turned out had a low scrubby wood behind it, and beyond that lay a municipal park of some sort.

Brad now drove the decapitated chugger of an auto up to the edge of the carpark and then to the surprise of everyone in the car save him, he drove up onto the lawn and onto a rutted maintenance path that led directly between the park and the rest stop. Halfway-in, the path opened up into a little clearing surrounded by shrubs and trees on all sides. It was quite hidden from the road. It was also filled with around five or six other vehicles. Brad pulled to an empty spot and shut off the motor.

A cursory glance about gave Annette an idea of what this was all about. She saw men here and there huddled about one or two of the vehicles apparently queuing for something at each car. Looking at the spent condoms and an empty bottle of lube on the ground and she knew all she needed to know. When she heard a woman let out a half shrill shriek and half cackle from inside a swaying non-descript white van, it confirmed things for her... Brad had driven the three women to a dogging site!

"Well Annette," Brad said, dropping the car window on his side and motioning for Shelby and Amanda in the back to open their doors, "hope you enjoy your presents, and Happy Birthday dear..."

Annette shot her boy-toy cub an ear to ear smile as she leaned over and presented him a Thank You kiss, before popping her door open. Several men standing in other queues at other swaying and rocking vehicles now noticed three doors open on the beat-up car containing Annette and the others. It was a new car... a car they had not seen before here at the dog site. When the men saw three female rumps suddenly raise up through those same open doors and prostrate themselves skyward with panties and knickers nowhere to be seen, they began to move over like a pack of famished hounds who'd just whiffed something good on the wind.

Fresh kill. Feeding time. It drew more strange men.

From out of the muni park on the edge of the wood sauntered the figures of still more men to the car. To Annette, it looked a bit like the zombie 'A-cock-alypse' was at hand. In her mind she could almost hear the tortured mournful calls of 'ASS... ASS... ASSSSSS!' from the legion of undead and rampant un-satisfied cock sauntering its way to the car. She chuckled at the thought... she was bad, and this would be so good, she knew it to be so.

What followed was hookup debauchery of the most casual anonymous kind; pure and simple. A few of the men made quick gruff conversation with Brad through the front seat window. He was asked if he was the husband or brother ... or whatever to these women. He replied that he was the 'protection,' and that they could have fun with his 'gels' but to not be too rough or rude 'wif them.' He was met by nods and half smiles but damned little eye contact. The men moved to the women.

Grubby trousers were opened freeing grubby cocks as equally grubby hands now roamed the asses and bodies of the three women while Brad managed to keep a watchful eye on the goings-on. The women were being pawed as if they were the contents of a food locker by men who were absolutely mad with hunger. It's safe to say, foreplay was somewhat absent from the menu.

Annette from her place on the front passenger seat with her bare ass out the door, felt the rude push of cock as hands grabbed hips and loins aided with a little bit of saliva and sweat, pushed home. She felt the man's nasty hands groping and grabbing her for a bit of 'sweaty leverage' as his dong slooshed deep in an 'oh so nasty' stretching of her cunt. He began a foul stroking rhythm, his hairy balls swinging forward to slap her Venus mound as his thumb swirled the nasty pink circle of her ass pucker. Over the seat in the back she could hear moans and smacking of bodies, (as Shelby and Amanda were no doubt receiving the very same rough treatment).

Annette decided she'd need to have a little something at her other end. She unzipped Brad's trousers and retrieved his already hard cock. She began to suck it in the cramped space of the small beat up piece of shit car as her whole world rocked back and forth on shock-absorbers badly in need of replacement.

On and on the cocks came; her mind and those of Shelby and Amanda simply loosing count of them in the stream of endless rutting grabass fuckery. There would be a warm spooging rush of semen, followed by a dripping pullout; only to be followed by the sound of another belt and trousers being undone and another stranger's cock rooting its way into their pussies or ass-chutes.

Again and again hands held their hips as male lungs huffed and panted above and behind them in desperate need to hump and rut them rotten. Each time stretching and plowing penetration would end up with a choking male groan and a rush of foul seed somewhere inside them. The girls lost count of it all, to include their own cums as their cunts eventually flowed freely with their own brine.

Finally, after an endless succession of humping and spouting, the very last man in line shot his seed. He was a well hung black man with powerful forearms, (who emptied his balls into Annette's now poor pummeled bum-hole with a roar of triumph). Annette now set herself to the task at hand (or mouth that is), and brought off Brad with just a few strokes off his cock in a wicked deep-throat that had him jet huge ropes of boy-batter straight into her hungry gullet. She gulped down his seed and rose up to thank him once more; only to have him glance over her shoulder and urge her to turn around as the large black man tapped her upon the shoulder.

She spun around and saw Ted the well hung limousine driver, (and Shelby's sometime paramour), grinning at her as he put is cock away with a few drippy shakes. Her eyes went wide at the happy surprise, (she'd thought she recognized the great stretch of that black dong upon her intestines). There was another surprise a moment later.

"Here you go luv," Ted said, handing her a birthday card.

It was signed by Teddy and everyone in the car. Amanda and Shelby had signed it days before not completely knowing what Brad had in mind, but they'd had the foresight to say nothing when it appeared that morning Bradley Knight had forgotten the birthday of his boss and lover, Annette Bishop. It was a ruse pulled off well and Annette simply could not cease hugging and kissing Brad as then sat in the bubble bath back home later on with Amanda and Shelby as Felicia prepared a late lunch for them prior to joining them in the sudsy cleansing bubbles.

The whole thing gave Brad a bit of reprieve and a blank check with Annette. He'd done masterfully with the setup and she realized in her heart of hearts that she could never stay cross at him or her little Shelby for too terribly long. One thing else the experience gave Brad; it told him he was good at fooling Annette and providing her surprises that pleased her immensely.

#

Now as she lay on a stage of an Amsterdam sex club; wrapped in a latex cocoon that tied in the back whilst being nibbled on by a marvelously hungry hipster, Annette's ire towards Brad passed. He had a good explanation. He'd show up and make it all right and she'd laugh at how silly she'd been for being angry at he and Shelby. She knew this all to be true; besides... Mr. "Oh so impeccably groomed and hairy," was doing such a marvelous job with his choppers on her twat... he really was! Within only a few minutes, he brought Annette to the edge of a bucking head-shaking crotch-humping cum upon his hairy snout as she wailed and thrashed out of sheer climactic delight.

Oh and what a cum-gasm it was going to be - she could feel it! Her toes suddenly curled as she became aware of only his mouth and the urgent need to spend herself against it. It was so... wickedly marvelous. She shook and kicked and thrashed as if she really needed benefit of the latex straightjacket that swaddled her and then it hit. Her body became one glorious shuddering sneeze of feminine release as her mouth fell open and,
"EEEEYYAAAAGGGGHH! HAAAAHHHH AAAGGGHH!" she bawled sending a great splash of lady dew against the hipster's face; adding a drenching spray of 'special product' to his beard, mustache, and hair.

The hungry hipster took it all in stride; shrugging it off as if he'd been at the prow of a boat that had just smacked through a great wave. She was dealing with no ordinary rug muncher. This impeccably groomed fellow was clearly she could see, a gynecological gourmand! He slurped and fed, rocking his head back and forth hungrily as he continued to feast and gobble at her puss-spout until he'd sipped every last briny drop from her.

Next to them on the stage, Ami was now gasping and grunting as Peter's penis pounded her rear porthole. Beneath her Felicia's spirited cunt munching had her on the edge of yet another splasher of an orgasm; Felicia inspired by the wicked lickings and strokes the brainy pint-sized hipstress between her legs was giving her with fingers and tongue. When she finally shrieked her way through her orgasm, she shook her head so ferociously her sunglasses nearly flew from her eyes but the club manager brought her hands up to her shades and held them in-place; maintaining a modicum of cool as the orchestra played frantically.

Kirsten asked Peter if he'd cum yet; he shook his head in an emphatic 'No' and then Nancy whispered a suggestion in Kirsten's ear as she pointed at the four people on the stage next to them. Kirsten said something quite unheard by all except Nancy, (who nodded back with a wicked grin). Again Nancy looked out to the crowd and waived to her hubby, Mr. Sir... who did a little finger waive back and went back to his second overpriced drink of the night that he was sipping slowly.

Kirsten now moved Ami and Peter from Felicia's proud pretty puss-licker and mounted the lovely Spaniard's face herself; pulling up Felicia's legs and bending them at the knees. She said something to the pretty hipster gobbling Felicia's twat waffle and she nodded in agreement, rising to her feet and shucking sneakers and leggings beneath her oh so shortie mini skirt. The crowd craned their necks and stared with keen interest as the band continued to play and the stage continued to rotate slowly.

As Kirsten held Felicia's long Spanish legs up (and her delectable derriere up as well), the pretty hipstress remounted the stage. She then mounted Felicia as well in a rip snorting lesbian scissor-fuck. Felicia was on fire with happy fuckery and showed her appreciation by immediately tucking into Kirsten's Teutonic twat schnitzel from down below; making the ring mistress nearly lose her hat once more (an image that was now almost becoming her 'signature look' as it found its usual place cocked down over one of her eyes).

Nancy and Ami now repositioned in a sixty-nine, with Nancy pulling the pretty arse cheeks open for Peter's proud pork sword. The Dutchmen once again sank into Ami's ravaged rectum once again; this time fucking much harder and faster. He was intent now on getting as close as possible to his orgasm but he was still saving it for something special. Beneath him, Ami and Nancy gobbled twats as their juices ran freely in weeping dribbles. It was all now an over the top frenzy of wanton hedonism before the crowd of onlookers, (who were almost hypnotized by the torrid spectacle before them). The band played... faster... and faster.

Annette let out a happy sigh, basking in the glow of the orgasm she'd just had at the hand... or should I say, LIPS of the bearded hipster. Truth be told; that last orgasm had HER and not the other way 'round! She'd had so many lovely mouths on her twat-waffle tonight but his was supreme! Apparently the best had been saved for last? There was just one thing she needed... some big veiny cock to make the night complete; maybe two even?

It was now as if minds were being read, for the hipster rose from Annette's sodden puss-hole and shot a glance to Kirsten the ringmistress; one eye cocked wryly and with both hands at his belt buckle. Kirsten returned his glance and looked at her watch before shooting him a smiling wicked nod in collusion.

Annette was confused at first, then she found herself spun around onto her belly. A second later she felt the lovely rude push. The hipster had released a true Krotch Kraaken of a cock and it was now pushing its way through the grotto entrance of Annette's sopping wet pussy!

She huffed out all her air and pushed her face into the pink matt of the stage as the shoulders of the cock made headway. A second later and it shunted on through... slamming home at the back of her cunt with lovely rude force as two strong hands gripped her hips. She let out another huff of air and then a low moan... this was what she'd wanted ever since she'd been cynched up in this silly jacket... vulnerability... and cock! She was about to get it in spades.

Within a few minutes' time Ami let out another howl of joy as Nancy's cunt munching and Peter's ass-plowing eventually tipped her over the edge of orgasmic release. As she and Nancy continued to roll about like a pair of fighting cats in a torrid mutual munch session.

Peter rose with his ramrod stiff cock and strode to Annette and her happily humping hipster. Annette looked up at the tall Dutchman, stroking a massive piece of timber in his hands. He'd yet to empty his balls and it was readily apparently he'd been saving up his load for her. She smiled, licked her lips and told him to get down with her and make himself comfortable.

Seating himself down before Annette with his legs to either side of her shoulders, Peter lifted Annette's head until it rested in the Dutchman's lap. He brought the tip of his dong to her lips and she opened her mouth to accept it, straight from Ami's ass-chute! Peter then lay back on the mats beneath him and wrapped his hands behind Annette's head.

Annette felt a lovely rush of excitement as the cock slid to the back of her throat and Peter pumped his hips ever so slightly. Relaxing and breathing through her nose, she just went with it... loving the helpless feeling of being happily spit roasted; the beautiful bearded hipster nailing her pussy from behind and the Dutchman plowing her tonsils up front in a nasty ass to mouth skull-fuck. She was home now... she was in her element, very much in this moment; loving it, living it, and hoping it would never end!

She lost track of time and only focused on the poke poke poke at both ends. Next to her, Felicia had been untied from her straight jacket and had now moved with Kirsten, Nancy, Ami and the hipstress in a five-woman daisy chain; each woman on her side lapping the twat truffle of the woman in front of her in a lovely mutually stimulating Sapphic ring. It didn't matter for Annette, she had her poke poke poke and her stroke stroke stroke and she was delirious with pleasure. Nothing else mattered, not her wayward cubs, not her responsibilities back in London, not the straining craning heads of the audience watching the rotating stage as the orchestra played; there was only the poke poke poking pleasure!

The pleasure didn't end right away for her either; it merely changed itself up after a few minutes. Just as Annette wondered how long Peter could maintain his nasty ass to mouth face hump the Dutchman let out a choked roar and his fingers lightly dug into her short black head of hair. Instinctively Annette bore down with lips and throat, like a calf nursing at its mother until she felt the boiling rush of warmth from the Dutchman's balls. It was a big load; he'd been edging and delaying his orgasm all this time with Kirsten, Nancy, and Ami so it was a huge expenditure for him; rope after salty rope of his cock curds spooging down Annette's gullet as she just took and loved every drop of his ball broth.

A few happy gulps later from Annette and she'd completely drained her Dutch treat. He was far from done, however. He raised her head in his hands gently and kissed her before telling her that he and the hipster humping her from behind were only half done with her.

He nodded to the bearded fellow plowing her from behind and the hipster shot a look to both Ami and his hipstress girlfriend. Ami, looked at her watch and nodded before diving back in to Nancy's pussy. The hipstress shot him a thumbs up and then wiggled that same thumb in Ami's poor poked pooper before returning back to gobbling the club manager's pretty pink puss hole.

The Dutchman said something to the hipster Annette could not quite make out over the noise from the orchestra and the moans of the daisy chain. A second later and the cock was out from her cunt and she was raised to her knees. Peter set about freeing her from her straightjacket, which landed on the floor in front of the stage not twenty seconds later.

Peter lay back down upon the stage, his wobbily dong still very much able to maintain penetration, (despite the fact he'd given Annette's tummy a lovely filling of dude-chowder from his nutsack). He could still fuck and he was anything but tired, (neither was the hipster and neither was Annette for that matter). It was unanimous.

Annette straddled the Dutchman's cock and sank down on the shaft; taking his cock up deep inside her. She began to hump and stroke it back into rigidity. It didn't take long. Now she anticipated what was next. Her hunch was correct.

She felt the hipster's strong forearms push her down onto the Dutchman. A second later and the bearded Rasputin wannabee was above her, she felt his weight. She felt his warmth and sweat. She felt his cockhead push against the pucker of her rectum... she was about to be pummeled at both ends in a sweaty double-penetration. She felt the rush of the cock as it slewed in to the darkest depths of her innards.

"Haarrrrhhhhhhh!" Annette gasped.

There was pain, there was discomfort for her (for a moment), then there was merely the rush of being plugged and corked by pulsing warm fleshy penetration for her. A selfishly hedonistic smile spread across her face. These two men had once again correctly read her wicked little mind like a filthy little book! They began to fuck in earnest.

She reached back behind her head in an attempt to stroke the hipster's beard; the thrill of everything getting the better of her. She was surprised then to receive his strong hand wrap up her wrist and her ears to be met by a firm 'NO' from him. Apparently there were a lot of things in this world he was ok with, but 'mussing the doo' was simply NOT on that list!

She chuckled and agreed, nodding in smiling submission. He continued to hold her wrist behind her back; squeezing it forcefully as he sawed his dong in and out of her dirt chute. It gave her the perfectly buggered feeling of helplessness she craved; a feeling that was only enhanced by the sensation of the Dutchman's throbbing ramrod as it shunted up inside her womb-hole like a piston. She cradled Peter's head to her neck with her remaining free hand and bid him to bite and nibble upon her. He complied as if he not eaten in days.

The only way for this to be more complete would have been for Bradley Knight to provide his gorgeous cock to her lips, mouth and throat; rendering her happily airtight and plugged all the way 'round. She'd have loved the sensation of that cock she'd sucked so many times before to fuck her tonsils and add to the joyous sensation in her pummeled pussy and her wonderfully rutted rectum. She'd love the delightful trickle of his pre-ejaculate and his choked efforts not to spend too soon, (all as the hipster's beard made delightful tickles on her shoulder and the Dutchman's chin stubble scratched her neck in just the very way she loved). She wanted him here... he was not, but it was fine for now. She had this, and this was so lovely for her.

This didn't take long for her either. The double-plunger man-sandwich brought her off in a series of happy sighs a short time later. Her pussy happily leaked and splashed like a busted rain gutter as her lady-dew ran down three pairs of legs.

Her sighs were met by a pair of distinctly male grunts as both Peter and the hipster shuddered and filled her front and back doors with jets of hot ball-sauce. She felt Peter's teeth rake her shoulder in a final nibble as he humped out the last dregs into her cunt; simultaneously she felt the swish of the hipster's beard and tash as he bestowed little pecks on her neck and between her shoulder-blades as he left the last salty squirt up her tush-pipe. The band played a triumphantly hokey fanfare as the audience came to their feet with a roar of applause. The center of attention once more, Annette Bishop felt... spent happy bliss!

#

The two women walked side by side; arm in arm down the sidewalk along the canal, headed to the point where the company car was to pick them up before driving back to the corporate retreat lodgings. The rain had begun again in little pits and pats as their heels clicked in unison on the concrete; clek clek clekking along beneath a two pair of long and desirable (if not somewhat tired lanky legs). Thinking back on the evening's events Annette was quite happily surprised by the way it had all turned out.

Almost immediately after her fanfare performance with the Dutchman and the well hung hipster, she and Felicia had retreated to the privacy of the dressing room. There was simply no time for anything more than a kiss from her two male costars. It was late and they still had no word at all from the cubs.

In the quiet of the dressing room Felicia checked Annette's messages. As she did, a text appeared. It was a bit of a mixed blessing.

"ITS ALL GOOD -CUD NOT BE THERE-2MORROW NOON FANTA Z SEX SHOP DOWN THE STREET FROM THE HOLE IN ONE CLUB - SORRY- SHELBY"

"What in the hell are those two doing?" bemoaned a completely worn out Annette when Felicia showed the message to her.

This was trying even her supremely calm patience. She always had a firm steady hand on the tiller of the corporation but now she wished to bring it soundly against the backsides of those two supremely naughty cubs of hers. No efforts to text back to either of them was met to success. She was frustrated... what was worse, the ball batter from Peter and the hipster needed to come out and she needed to pee.

Luckily there was a toilet in a stall to one side of the dressing room. As she heard it flush and she saw Felicia hop up from the commode; she stepped around her assistant and seated herself, (in need of a good emptying now that she was so full and more than a little frustrated by events).

Felicia sensed her mood. As Annette wrinkled her nose in mid piss and stared at her phone screen, she rejoined her in the stall. She knelt between Annette's knees and raised them up slightly; hooking them over her shoulders.

Annette continued to scowl and wrinkle her nose. Now it wasn't as much for the naughty-ass cubs whom she wanted to box the ears of. She really need to wee, (plus man-jizz was leaking at both her ends as if she were an overstuffed pastry).

Felicia dropped her pretty noggin and Annette felt her thighs go a bit high. Instinctively, she scooted her lovely bum to the commode's front; curving her body like a letter "c" on the very edge. Felicia was a "find."

The Iberian hottie's tongue and lips now went to work in earnest; making like a little bee inside her boss's petals. Annette had just finished pissing but it just didn't matter; the taste of a little wee trickling from another woman's snatch simply turned Felicia on to simply no end. It was Felicia's very own special "pee-version."

The lovely Spaniard had a good many kinks in her lexicon but watersports with another lady happened to be first and foremost among them. Besides... Annette needed a bit of stress relief at the moment. Yep, Felicia was a find!

Felicia's tucked in between Annette's legs and the buffet commenced. Her tongue and nose immediately met with the acrid taste and fragrance of Annette's pee dregs; this followed closely by a salty creampie, (courtesy of two well hung men). She regretted not having the chance to fuck them this evening and regretted things even more as the cock custard began to drip and flow from both of Annette's ends. Why did Annette get all the luck? Oh well, she was content to snack on this salty concoction of ... BRRRRINNGG THE PHONE RANG.

"Oh POO," whined Annette glancing down at her screen just as she was beginning to enjoy Felicia's nibblings, "I'll have to take this,"

She answered. On the other end a man's voice rang through the receiver,

"Hello my dear! How's my crumpet this evening?"

"Caesar darling!" Annette said with a sound of joy lilting on her lips and a look of OH FUCK NOW WHAT on her face, "Oh its you... I am so happy you phoned in. Worried sick about you, dearest. How is Ireland?"

"Green and wet," came his voice on the other end, "can you hear the rain?"

He held his phone to the sky from as the roaring rush of water bounced on his umbrella. She could hear it quite clearly. She could also feel dribblings and drippings of a different sort about to rush from her and meet Felicia's busy lips full in the lips and snout.

"Oh yes darling," Annette replied, "things are a bit wet here in London as well, getting wetter even."

She place her hand on Felicia's head and tapped for her to be silent, (as the sexy Spaniard snorted and snickered at the irony of her bosses' words). It wasn't the first time Annette had lied to her hubby about her comings and goings, (or cummings and goings for that matter). Caesar ate it all up like porridge, however. Whatever explanation given by Annette at any given time served as the perfect smokescreen for her many infidelities. Oh and there were soooo many... but then where was I? Oh yes... sorry everyone.

"So anyhow Caesar," Annette continued, "how long before you arrive back in *ugggh* arrive b-back... in *arrggh*... in London?"

As Caesar mentioned he'd be in Ireland for another week, Annette let out an uncontrolled shudder as if something was very much... well, out of sorts inside her. There was a bit of a 'rumble' in her 'tumble' as it were. She was now suddenly caught up in the most uncomfortable of abdominal spasms.

Apparently all that semen spooged up inside her tail-pipe from the hipster's hindquarter hijacking earlier that night was making an exit and at a most inconvenient of times. She felt as if she were crapping a half liter of his love lotion now and it was all beyond her control as all that cum just came, and came, and came! Caesar noticed she was not her usual 'chatty Cathy' self on the phone.

"What's wrong my dear," Caesar said concerned, "are you alright?"

"Oh well," Annette replied, "nothing I want to trouble you with. Felicia and I were in the mood for a little bit different sort of dining and I am feeling the after effects of a wrap and fruit dish that perhaps involved far too many people and their hygiene concerns. It was all quite satisfying but now I am paying the price!"

"Oh dear," replied Caesar, "well do get some rest and try to push fluids dear."

"Oh dearest," grunted Annette, "Felicia is helping me push fluids as we speak!"

This was at least truthful; the housekeeper was now pressing her face into Annette's crotch; forcibly sucking as much of that pesky man-batter as she could up into her lips. Sounding as if feasting on a particularly ripe mango, it could be said she was truly enjoying herself; male ejaculate being quite a favored delicacy for her on any day, but when supped from the lovely hindquarters of a beautiful woman... well, so much the better. Her enthusiasm had an effect on Annette, reducing her to a series of grunts and shudders but Caesar on the other end interpreted this all as the pangs of bad cuisine finding the quickest way out. He rattled on into his phone.
"Good girl that housekeeper of yours," Caesar remarked, "always there where you need her most and always cleaning up so you don't have to."

"Yes dear," Annette agreed, "and she is doing a fine job now taking care of messes here..."

"Well," he asked, "is there anything I can do? Should I come home early dear?"

"Oh no dear," said Annette, horrorstruck that he might return to London and not find her there at the flat, "you can help by staying there and taking good care of yourself and all things necessary,"

"Right dear," he went on, "well speaking of necessity, I really must let you go darling. I need to get out of all this rain and into something drier and a bit warmer."

"Alright dear," she replied, "enjoy yourself and doooo take care of things!"

"Indeed I shall my dear," he replied.

#

Caesar hung up the phone and tucked it away. From beneath his umbrella he peered up into the window as it streaked with rain at the figure bathed in red light. An unspoken transaction was proposed from his face to another. From behind the glass the very same beautiful window girl Annette and Felicia had flirted with earlier pushed a buzzer next to her. The door to Caesar's right at the top of the stairs buzzed and he went inside to get out of the Amsterdam cold and damp; only to get into the Red Light District's hot and wet!

#

"I only heard bits and pieces," Felicia said rising up and smiling between Annette's thighs as she wiped a little seminal blob from her lips and popped it mischievously in Annette's mouth, "what is going on?"

"Let's just say I bought myself and those two missing brats of mine a week. Let's get out of here. I need sleep and so do you!"

Felicia and Annette dressed and returned to the club floor. They didn't waste much time except to thank Ami the manager and give her cheek kisses for a simply marvelous evening. Ami received assurances from the both of them that they had a ride coming to pick them up before letting them go and that they'd be back to her club again. The two paused at the door; turning to survey the crowd for a final time.

Kirsten, the still naked German ring mistress with her ever-present hat cocked to one side over her eyes was up high egging on the audience. Below her on the stage two of the Arab businessmen "performed" with their respective call girls. Apparently one, of the men was already spent, (more talk than action I'm afraid). He lay to one side gasping in abject humiliation with a dripping wilted 'crotch falafel' below an oversized belly, (as his business partner struggled against the two prostitutes alone). They'd most likely return home with pumped up tales of false bravado worked out on the plane ride home concerning the evening's sordid events but for now; they were most anything but impressive.

Kirsten shot Annette and Felicia one of her winks and then made a look of disappointment at the two men at her feet on the stage. She waived to the pair of women at the door, acknowledging true sexual athletes departing the arena after a match well played. Annette and Felicia giggled and waived back.

Over at their table Nancy and her hubby, Mr. Sir, recognized Annette and Felicia and saw bother were about to leave. The cute couple from Phoenix made 'cutesy-cutesy' little finger waves at them and both women waived back. Apparently Mr. Sir was already receiving a reward for being so patient; as Nancy's other hand was clearly visible under the table in a fast blurring handjob on his erection. He'd later get her back to the hotel; reclaiming his wife in a wonderfully hard torrid fuck, (per a sort of marital ritual that they always executed at the end of Nancy's hotwife escapades). Certain husband and wife traditions can be so very endearing. Anyhow, Annette and Felicia chuckled at this last image of the evening and exited through the door before stepping up the stairs past the bouncers in their cheap tuxedos.

The two women stepped into the Amsterdam night. It was an on again; off again, rainy dark sky that greeted them. They shrugged off the dampness and occasional raindrops, both being sooooo very tired; they simply needed to find the car and get back to the lodge for a lovely post-orgy coma.

#

Now as they walked, Annette felt a twinge of trepidation. Although she and Felicia had enjoyed themselves supremely, there was still the question as to what this whole thing was about. It nagged at her like a toothache. Only from being too tired to think was she able to put it out of her head and merely focus on walking. The pair continued into the night, their fast clek clek clekking high heels pushing them ahead down the damp street along the canal as the glaring Red Light District's multicolored hues reflected in the puddles beneath them.

The rain began to come down harder now; not a downpour but a sober reminder of just how close the North Sea was to them. As the sky threatened to open up and crush them in tumbling sheets of rain they saw him ahead; the driver of the company car holding the door open, waiving them on with his collar pulled up to shield himself against whatever was about to come from above. Their heels clek cleck cleckity clecked faster as they made the last bit of distance; just as Mother Nature squatted to take a roaring piss on the town in her own torrential version of an Amsterdam floor show!

The door to the rear passenger seat slammed shut as the two women crumpled on the seat; leaning on one another with eyes closed in an effort to become reasonably comfortable, (ignoring existing traffic laws requiring seatbelts to be in use for all occupants). The driver didn't say one word after seeing their half-drowned cat state of affairs. It didn't matter; he knew precisely where they were going. He checked his mirror and pulled out into the street.

The car sped away. Inside on the rear passenger seat, one of the women; maybe Annette or perhaps Felicia was already snoring and dead to the world on the shoulder of the other. Behind them they left the rain, the puddles, and the on-off on-off neon glow of the Red Light District until tomorrow; the adventure only now just beginning for them.