My Summer Job

A Short Story by J. K. Ermon (jokermon)

This is a work of erotic fantasy fiction for the entertainment of adults only. Everything in it is imaginary and does not represent any real-life people, events or medical conditions. All characters in this story are 18+ even if it seems otherwise for dramatic or narrative purposes. It contains explicit futanari (hermaphrodite) content. If that's not your bag, don't read it. If reading this type of material is illegal where you reside due to your age or whatever, don't read it. Do not repost without permission. This story is copyright©2024 J. K. Ermon.

~~~

(Editor's note: taken from Femmestrüdel issue #261, August 1969)

Dear Femmestrüdel,

I never thought I'd be writing in with a story of my own, but as they say, truth is indeed stranger than fiction.

I'm a college coed finishing up my freshman year at Stanford. I'm originally from Vermont and last summer I drove cross-country to get here. It wasn't my idea. My father did not approve of me going to college (he thinks post-secondary is wasted on women) and refused to support it. Fortunately, I won a full-ride scholarship and didn't need him to pay my way. My only problem was getting to California. I couldn't afford airfare and had too much stuff to take on a Greyhound. I bravely decided to load up my old pickup and hit the road.

I got as far as a small town outside Topeka, Kansas before my truck broke down. I was stranded there for two-and-a-half weeks. I had quite the adventure. I've been dying to tell someone this story and feel it's only appropriate your magazine gets it first.

Luckily for me, my truck died just a stone's throw from a local service station. I was able to push my pickup into the repair bay. There was only one mechanic on duty, and all I could see of him was a pair of legs in baggy overalls sticking out from under an old Chevy.

When I rang the bell on the counter, the mechanic rolled out from under the car and I was very surprised to see a woman under all that motor oil and grime.

She wore a green bandana kerchief-style and her eyes were bright green too. That's all I could tell about her at first glance because her face was so dirty. She took off a work glove, revealing a thankfully clean hand, and stuck it out for me to shake.

"Scarlett Novak," she said. "Pleased to meetcha."

"Mabel Kemp," I said (not my real name).

She was the first female mechanic I'd ever met. I tried to hide it, but I was a little dismayed. Where I come from, women aren't known for their mechanical aptitude and I was worried my bad luck had just gotten worse.

Her manner, however, was pleasant, friendly and reassuringly confident. I explained what happened and she cheerfully put up my truck's hood and had me try to start it. She listened to it sputter, and then got right to work. She poked and prodded while singing to herself in a very tuneful voice. It was like she'd forgotten I was there.

Oh, this just gets better I thought.

I really needed to pee. I asked her if I could use the facilities and she nodded absently towards the back.

It was the cleanest gas station ladies' room I'd ever been in, which I supposed was one advantage of having a female mechanic. It smelled good, too, which was very unusual. It was a sweet-and-spicy scent I couldn't place.

I used up the last sliver of soap when I washed my hands and looked in the cupboard under the sink to replace it. There were plenty of soap bars there all right, but there was also a foot-tall stack of magazines with smiling pretty ladies on the covers. The topmost one was called Femmestrüdel. That was my introduction to your fine magazine.

I didn't know what type of publication it was at first - from the title I thought it might be a culinary magazine. When I opened it up, I was so shocked I almost dropped it. I'm from New England, remember, so I had never seen a sausage mag. I knew, in a general sort of way, about Seahag Syndrome, but I had never met a dickgirl and certainly had no idea there were girlie magazines devoted to them.

It was... graphic. I flipped through it with eyes like saucers, drinking in page after page filled with naked, voluptuous women with beautiful bodies and enormous wieners. There was even a pictorial of two dickgirls having sex. It actually showed their penises going into each other and everything.

I should have been disgusted or horrified, but instead I got very turned on. It wasn't just the pictures; there were articles, funny cartoons and even hot stories mailed in from readers. There was a whole world here I never knew existed. It was fascinating.

That pleasant smell, incidentally, seemed to be wafting from the pages of the magazine (which were a little stiff). I figured they'd gotten that way from being stored near the soap.

I heard Scarlett calling me. I checked my watch and realized I'd been standing there ogling my find for almost twenty minutes. I carefully placed the magazine back where I found it.

When I went back to the main work area, I got another surprise: Scarlett had washed her face. There was a pretty, wholesome, apple-cheeked young woman hiding under all that muck. Her complexion, now that I could see it, was fair and flawless. She'd taken off her bandanna and her hair was long and full and auburn. I was struck by how young she was - I was nineteen at the time and she couldn't have been four or five years older. Late twenties at the most. I couldn't tell much else about her figure because she was still wearing her baggy overalls, but still, the difference was like night and day.

She gave me a knowing little smile, and for a second I suspected she knew I'd been snooping. Then, in a friendly-but-businesslike way, she told me there were two things wrong with my car. The spark plugs had worn out and something called a piston ring was broken. The spark plugs, she explained, would be a cinch to replace since she had spares. The piston ring would have to be special-ordered. It might take a week or more to arrive.

I gulped. I had no idea how I was going to pay for this. I'd emptied out my savings to cover food and motels along the way, and an extra week or two of food and lodging wouldn't break me, but I certainly hadn't budgeted for vehicle maintenance. And there was no way in hell I could call my Dad for a bail-out.

Scarlett read my expression and very kindly gave me the address of a local place where she said I could stay for cheap.

"Just tell 'em I sent ya and you'll get a swell deal. And don't worry about the parts and labor. We'll work something out."

I was so grateful I almost burst into tears.

Scarlett's address turned out to be a nice motel around the corner with an excellent (and inexpensive!) diner. Sure enough, once I gave them Scarlett's name, they became very friendly. I got my room at a considerable discount and my worries evaporated. I wasn't thrilled about being stuck in this small town but there was nothing to do but make the best of it. It could have been a lot worse. I settled in with another absurd rush of teary gratitude and got a head start on my first-year reading list.

~~~

I developed a routine. Every day I would go over to the garage and check on the status of my vehicle. Scarlett was always happy to see me. We would chat while she banged away under the hoods of different cars. She was certainly very competent; after an hour or so of banging, she got those old junkers to fire up like they were new. The only ones that didn't were the ones that needed replacement parts, like mine. I felt ashamed for doubting her.

She was the only mechanic there. When I asked about that, she explained that the owners were off on a hunting trip for the next two weeks. It impressed me that she was doing such a good job holding down the fort. I was impressed with her as a person, period. She knew her stuff and was proficient without being arrogant about it, which I found to be a very attractive quality. To top it off, she was pretty, which I wasn't. I was a bespectacled nerdy towhead with a chest as flat as the Great Plains. I was heading for law school, which sounds impressive, but I knew that even if I got my degree (by no means a sure thing), I'd likely end up a glorified legal secretary. Scarlett effortlessly excelled at a predominantly male profession and was nice about it to boot. She made it impossible to feel jealous or resentful. I enjoyed her company very much.

Inevitably, every visit I'd make an excuse to go to the little girls' room and sneak another peek at that hoard of sausage mags. My fascination grew. By the third visit, I was bringing my book bag and 'borrowing' a few issues from the bottom of the pile. I didn't think she would miss them. Each time I came back from the Ladies', Scarlett would always give me that same quick sidelong smile, but never said anything. She would resume our conversations like I'd never left.

At night in my motel room, I would pore over those amazing magazines for hours. I masturbated to them. That was something I'd never done before, and it was quite a rebellious act for me. I'd always been taught playing with myself was bad. Every time I'd tried it previously, I'd felt too guilty to finish. Now, there was no stopping me.

The first time it happened, I was staring at a picture of a beautiful naked dickgirl ejaculating. She was a large-breasted brunette lying on an inflatable mattress floating in someone's backyard swimming pool. Her body was covered with water droplets and she sparkled in the sun. The stream of her ejaculate glowed. It was her face that did it for me, though; her eyes were scrunched shut and her mouth open in equal parts pain, ecstasy and joy.

I had been rubbing away, already very wet and excited, and enjoying myself tremendously. The second I turned the page and saw her face, however, it was like something clicked into place. I felt a sudden strange sense of imminence, like something big was about to happen. My thighs and tummy trembled. It was like being on a rollercoaster when you get to the top of the first big dip, but instead of plunging down, I went up, ever higher and faster, until the experience culminated in a succession of delicious pulses. It left me stunned and gasping for breath.

It was the most intense pleasure I'd ever felt. I was pretty sure my face mirrored that of my dickgirl friend in the magazine.

My first orgasm, I thought in a mixture of pride, wonder, and incorrigible glee. It wiped me out entirely. Afterwards, I slept like a baby.

The next night I did it again, feasting my eyes on another lovely dickgirl, only that time I didn't stop at one orgasm. I had several. I happily masturbated myself into exhaustion.

For the first week of my stay, that was my routine.

~~~

On the sixth day, when I went into the garage Ladies' room, I got a shock. On the top of the pile was an issue of Femmestrüdel with Scarlett's smiling face on the cover!

Numbly, I picked it up. It was a recent issue and the tag line read Scarlett Thunder -- Girl Wonder!*

(*That would be #245, April '68, available in back issues. -Ed.)

I knew all the dickgirl models in these magazines had funny stage names. From my reading, I knew they all performed at seedy little venues called sausage joints where all sorts of sordid stuff happened.

I turned the pages to her pictorial, and sure enough, there she was. I gasped.

The photospreads typically followed a striptease format, where the model would start off clothed and several pictures later, they'd be nude. Scarlett hadn't bothered with that; she started out naked as a jaybird!

I gnawed my lip as I stared at her photos. I had been struck by how shapely and feminine all the dickgirls in these magazines were and Scarlett was no different. She looked great naked. Her baggy overalls had been hiding a spectacular figure. She had a pair of melon-like breasts that made my jaw drop, a pinched little waist that swelled into a curvy set of hips, and all wrapped up in a tight covering of pale and perfect skin with nary a freckle in sight.

Her overalls had also been hiding a sizable penis. Hers wasn't as long as some, but it was exceedingly thick. Her testicles were huge and smooth and pendulous, and many shots had her lifting them up to expose a fetchingly pink and clean-shaven vulva. In one of the very first photos, she was spreading her labia wide open as if to invite the viewer inside. She had a wonderfully slutty grin.

It was a solo shoot, but she kept very busy masturbating and shoving all kinds of different objects inside herself. There were dildos and plugs and things going up every hole she had. Some of these sex toys were of an alarming size. She had no problems taking any of them and was demonstrably enjoying herself; every other photo showed her squirting off a fountain of thick white sperm. It was both shocking and arousing.

Even though the pictorial had her doing some very nasty things, I was amazed at how beautiful and glamorous she looked. Her makeup was artfully applied and her nails well-lacquered. She looked fabulous even when her face was contorted in orgasm. It made me feel all swimmy inside.

By the end of her photoset, however, that perfect make-up job was a runny, smeared mess and she was covered in her own sperm. I was so excited I felt weak at the knees. I desperately wanted to masturbate, but I knew that Scarlett was waiting for me. She had clearly left that magazine as a message that she wanted to talk.

I walked back on wobbly legs and found the main garage area deserted.

"Scarlett?" I called out.

"In here," she replied from the glassed-in office. I noticed all the blinds were closed.

I went in and found her waiting there for me naked.

The shock of it rocked me back on my heels. The sight of her, all that bare wonderful skin, made my heart leap into my throat. My arousal skyrocketed and my knees almost gave out entirely. It was a small office, so she was close enough that I could smell her, and the scent of her was intoxicating. It was that same spicy-sweet fragrance I'd caught in the Ladies' room.

It was her, I thought. That's what she smells like. My God, she's scrumptious.

Her breasts looked bigger in person. So did her penis. It was all-the-way erect for me and throbbed with ominous intent.

"Did you like my pictures?" she asked me.

"I... yes," I answered.

"Good," she said. "I think it's time we discussed how you're going pay your bill."

That brought me up short. My eyes widened, but she beckoned me with a smile. I floated into her arms like a balloon on a string.

The second she touched me I gave myself over to her completely. It was like her skin carried some powerful tactile erotic charge. Raw sexuality surged into me. She kissed me, and I couldn't help kissing her back. I found myself melting into the most passionate smooch of my life.

Somehow my clothes were gone. I didn't remember disrobing, but there I was, bare-assed. Her hands roamed my skin and mine roamed hers. The fiery contact made me moan. I squeezed those big tits and my heart pounded. She sucked my tongue and I sucked hers.

I'd kissed girls before - I think lots of girls practice on each other when they're young - and while it was sexy, it was always done in a playful, silly way. This was nothing like that. This was real sex with a real woman, and it was sensual and powerful and even a little scary, but that just added to the thrill.

The desk was stacked with receipts and invoices. Scarlett swept them to the floor, picked me up with zero effort and plunked my ass down on the blotter. I opened my legs to her without a moment's hesitation.

She kissed her way down to my nipples and sucked them. A sharp little orgasm went through me from that alone. I squeaked. The tip of my nose, my toes and my fingertips all went pins-and-needlesy. Her mouth kept going down my belly, and when she kissed and licked my navel, I had an even bigger orgasm. My whole body was lit up with sensitivity. It was amazing.

When she began nuzzling her way through my pubes and I realized what was next, my excitement leapt to an even higher level. I started climaxing before she even began licking my cunt.

Seeing that lustrous red-gold head burrowing between my legs and feeling her mouth upon my privates made me thrash on that desktop. My legs pedaled in the air. My moans became wails and then - as my orgasms began linking and growing - became outright shrieks. She licked the entire length of my crotch, from my asshole ("Oooh!") to my clit ("Ahhh!") and tongue-drilled my pussy in between ("Ohhh..."). Then she sucked my little nodule til it blazed.

"Oh my God," I screamed. "My God!"

She put her fingers into me and opened me up. I groaned. It didn't hurt - I was still coming - but it still wasn't easy.

I wasn't a virgin; I had done it with my high school boyfriend on our Senior Prom Night, before he went off to Vietnam. That was over a year ago (he dumped me while he was over there, but that's another story). It had been a long dry gap year of working and saving and improving my grades via AP night courses.

Now the dry spell was done. I was flowing like a waterfall. Her fingers made wet sounds as they pumped me. They tingled weirdly, and I felt waves of pleasure radiating from them.

"Ooh," I grunted.

Her fingers curled inside me and stimulated spots I never knew I had. The combination of that, plus her lips on my clit, made me come harder than I ever dreamed I could. Stars trailed in the corners of my vision. I actually squirted as I came, and covered her face in cunt juice.

She pulled me to my feet and kissed me again. She made me taste my cunt. The acidic, bittersweet flavor re-inflamed me. I kissed her back. I loved that she made me do dirty things.

She grabbed me by the hair and forced me to my knees. I obeyed like a limp rag doll. Her dick looked enormous this close to my face and she shook it at me.

"Open. Suck it."

I obeyed again. She was meaty and delicious. I sucked it avidly.

Like most girls of my era, I'd given lots of blowjobs on dates, so I was familiar with this process. I'd secretly come to enjoy sucking cocks in defiance of my father's disapproval.

None of the high school boys I'd sucked, however, were remotely as big as Scarlett. It took some doing to handle this newer, larger model. I slid my mouth up and down with great determination. I loved the feel and flavor of her outrageous member in my mouth and it inspired me. I got the hang of it very quickly.

I got an enormous sense of accomplishment when I managed to swallow that fat salami all the way down to those ostrich-egg testicles. Her cock got bigger and stiffer and more excited the longer I sucked it. When I managed to make Scarlett moan, I thought my heart might burst. When her cock went into pre-orgasmic throbs, I got dizzy with anticipation. And then - when she spurted in my mouth - it changed my life.

The rich, vanilla-cinnamon flavor of her sperm shocked me. Partly because I wasn't expecting it to taste that good, but also because I recognized it. It was the same thing I'd smelled on the sausage mags, and on Scarlett herself, now made physical and delightful beyond measure. It was her cum. I gulped it down greedily.

An even bigger surprise came next. My mind and body became suffused with a soaring kind of euphoria. I got flushed all over and grew even more starry-eyed. Her sperm literally made me high. It was the most wonderful feeling, and I gurgled in enjoyment even as my brain tumbled over itself trying to understand what was happening.

I had smoked grass once or twice at parties and it was kind of like that, only this was a warmer, calmer and more sensual experience. It was also an order of magnitude more powerful.

"Oh, wow," I slurred through my sticky mouthful.

Scarlett chuckled breathlessly. "There you go, sweetie." She patted my head. "Good job." She patted the desk blotter. "Lie back here again."

I did as she ordered. I was surprised at how coordinated I was; her stuff didn't seem to have impaired me any. I felt blessedly boneless and supple. I laid on the desk, spread my legs and lifted them under the knees.

She put her fingers back inside me. She didn't pump this time, just twisted them clockwise and counter-clockwise. I understood now they were coated with her sperm and that was why they made my pussy feel so good. I moaned and shuddered. She put a third finger in me and kept twisting. The pleasure got even more intense when she added a fourth. Just as I was about to orgasm again, she pulled her fingers out sucked them. Then she pressed the enormous head of her penis against my now-relaxed labia.

Impossible, I thought dizzily. She's too big... it'll never fit...

My hole opened around her with no pain whatsoever. To my absolute wonder, her gleaming dome disappeared inside my furry opening. She entered me, and I stretched mightily to contain her, but I felt nothing but awesome pleasure as she stuffed my almost-virginal vagina beyond full.

"Oh." I groaned from the base of my spine as her balls kissed my asshole. I had taken every inch of that bread-loaf penis. It was incredible.

I came with her inside me. She hadn't even begun to hump yet.

"Oh good," she gasped as I groaned and clamped. "Good for you!"

Her sperm, said my dazzled brain, what has it done to me? I shouldn't have been able to take that...

Then there were no clear thoughts for a while. Scarlett hauled back her Johnson (Janeson?) and shoved it into me again. It felt like she was turning my whole body inside-out. She fucked me, and I howled my way through the most intense and transformative sex I'd ever had.

I honestly couldn't say how many times I came in that dingy little office. I entered an ecstatic state and when she came in me -- overflowingly -- I got higher still.

I'm sure most of Femmestrüdel's readers know about Seahag fever, but this was my first experience with it. It was the best thing that ever happened to me. I felt happy, which may not sound like a big deal, but that point in my life happiness was not my standard mode. I was frequently more hopeful than happy in those days.

I also felt powerful, which was also new to me. Moreover, I felt intoxicated, almost giddily so, but at the same time uniquely focused. All of my senses were heightened. I'd never been so attuned to my own body, and it extended to Scarlett's as well. I seemed to know, intuitively, how best to please her. It was like invisible hands were guiding mine. I pinched and pulled on her nipples harder than I would have normally dared, but my intuition was correct - she flushed all over and her arousal rose. I spanked her big beautiful ass as it swept back and forth, and she squealed delightedly. I matched the rhythm of her thrusts with my pelvic muscles and we both came again at the same time. It filled me with joy.

She had me suck her off a few more times. I didn't mind tasting it straight out of my cunt. I loved it and would've done anything for her at that point. Then she re-inserted herself. She would go back and forth between my mouth and my pussy and I loved it. Every time her cum flooded my mouth or my cunt, it told me I was pleasing her. Every time, it was enough to make me come, too.

An indeterminate amount of time later, I was feeling decidedly woozy. I was startled when Scarlett pulled her big log out of me and stepped back. I looked at the clock and hours had gone by with me realizing it. Scarlett had unilaterally decided to bring this session to a close.

We got cleaned up in the Ladies' room and when she got dressed, it was the first time I'd ever seen in her in civilian clothes. She wore a surprisingly prim country dress with an odd leather satchel belted around her hips. It had a peace symbol stitched into the top flap. When I asked her about it, she said it was called a sporran and they were a legal requirement for dickgirls in sausage belt states. They had to wear them in public. They declared the wearer's dickgirl status and also hid their bulges for modesty's sake. They were often personalized.

When I went back to the motel that evening, Scarlett came with me. She spent the night. And the night was spent with her between my legs.

I was well into my Stanford syllabus, but my real education started that night. After a good long warm-up, Scarlett let me take the lead. It startled me how aggressive I could be. I sucked and bit her nipples and licked every delicious inch of her. I didn't just give her blowjobs; I sucked her balls, licked her asshole and learned to eat her pussy. I learned to take my time. I also learned that sticking a finger up her ass would make her come more or less immediately.

She didn't have to prod me to try anything. I dove right in and figured it out. I loved all of it, the cunnilingus especially. I had a pussy of my own, so pleasing her that way gave me a special sense of kinship and closeness with her.

And of course, I absolutely guzzled her cum. The effect of it never lessened for me. And every time she pumped more of that cum up my pussy (and later, my asshole), I got higher still. I never dreamed there were so many different positions in which you could have intercourse. When we sixty-nined, I just exploded on top of her. When she slid her cum-slippery fingers up my asshole and followed them with her penis, I quivered and moaned. When I straddled her and took her into myself (Scarlett called it the cowgirl position), I loved it and rode her to exhaustion.

As I dozed off, I realized I had made a crucial discovery. Sex could be more than just reproduction, or pleasure. It could be a circuit of communication between people. An exchange and mutual amplification of energy. I also realized I wanted to have a lot more of it.

~~~

We only slept about four hours that night, but it was the deepest and most refreshing sleep of my life.

We had a splendid diner breakfast the next morning. I blushed at the knowing looks the staff gave us, but Scarlett just grinned back.

"You got nothing to be ashamed of," she whispered in my ear.

She went off to work after. I wanted to go with her, but she said if I came along, she'd get no work done. I took her point. I went back to my books.

I expected to be too distracted to study, but that uncanny focus persisted. I devoured my first semester's reading. I made copious, detailed notes and even sketched outlines of possible essays and assignments, arguments and counterarguments. My brain was working at a much higher rate of efficiency than it usually did. I retained everything.

I was so engrossed, when Scarlett returned in the late afternoon, I was shocked to discover I'd worked through the whole day. We got dinner and then screwed the night away.

That was our new routine for several days. I studied and Scarlett worked. We ate together at the diner and then spent the nights together in my room.

She educated me on the finer points of my sexual technique. She would stop me while I was sucking her cock to correct some aspect of my performance. She would be balls-deep in my vagina or anus and then suddenly stop to coach me on how to be a better lay. I got the impression she was training me. I was having too good a time to mind.

When we weren't screwing, she drove me around Wabaunsee County and showed me the sights. It was rustic and beautiful. She told me all about her life, how when she was younger and first emerged, as she put it, she traveled around making a precarious-but-exciting living performing at different sausage joints. Her cheap secondhand vehicles kept breaking down on her, so she had to learn basic automotive repair just to get by. She discovered she had a real talent for it. She got so good the garage owners let her work there when she wasn't touring.

"These days I mostly make home movies on Super-8," she told me. "I sell 'em through classifieds in sausage mags. They go like hotcakes. I still make the rounds, though."

"The rounds?" I asked.

"The Midwest sausage circuit," she explained. "Kansas through Kentucky."

"Why?" I asked. "Do you need the money?"

"Not really," she said. "I just like it. I mean, the road can be a nightmare, but I miss connecting with all those people. I met some really wonderful folks on the road."

As your readers can probably tell, my vehicle mishap turned into a delightful summer fling. And more besides. I'd never felt so good or so healthy. I credit Scarlett with the late-puberty growth spurt I went through a few days after we started having sex. I shot up two inches in height and my hips, thighs and ass all got bigger while my waist stayed the same petite size. My boobs went up a staggering three cup sizes and I had to discard all my bras. It didn't matter. My breasts were now so full and firm I didn't need them anymore. I went from a scrawny, awkward bookworm to a titsy, curvaceous goddess over the course of a week.

I would stand naked in the motel bathroom and stare at the mirror for hours at a time. I didn't know whether to weep or whoop with joy.

Most mysterious of all, my vision corrected itself. I no longer needed my glasses. I realized the pages I was trying to read were blurrier while I was wearing them.

Scarlett told me all this was normal for people who had lots of sex with the emergent in a short period. It was hard to believe, but I couldn't dispute the truth of it.

My sexual appetites increased as well. I'd never been so randy. My ability to reach orgasm improved until I could practically come at will, and my ability to have many (ascending) orgasms in succession grew as well. I had no problems keeping up with Scarlett. In fact, I was even humping her into submission.

"I've created a monster," she laughed after one such session.

I didn't know how much I'd evolved until a few days after the Big Change. A man approached us in the diner while we were having lunch. He was a very handsome and well-dressed gentlemen, about fifty-five years old with salt-and-pepper hair and a distinguished mustache.

"Hello again, Scarlett," he said in a very cultured voice. I was impressed despite myself. He certainly wasn't local.

"Jerry!" Scarlett cried out happily, and jumped up to hug him. "Mabel, this is Gerald van den Brink III," (not his real name) "from Ohio. He's one of my acquaintances from the circuit."

He looked at me and I found him alarmingly attractive. I found my heightened sexuality made me more susceptible to male beauty. His eyes were gorgeous and deep, with a roguish twinkle. We shook hands, and his grip was both strong and gentle. I got wet immediately.

He joined us for lunch. He was educated, funny and genuinely interested in my studies. I was captivated. There was a powerful sexual magnetism about him. The term silver fox sprang to mind.

I glanced over at Scarlett and she was more captivated than me. She was all goo-goo eyed like a groupie meeting the Beatles.

When Jerry left briefly to make a phone call, Scarlett turned to me and said, "I don't know what you had planned for this afternoon, but I have got to fuck that man. Do you want to join me?"

I nodded without thinking.

~~~

Back in my room, Jerry started things off by having us both sit in his lap and kiss him. His kisses were so passionate they took my breath away. From the deep flush on her cheeks, I knew Scarlett felt the same. He kissed us both, then watched while Scarlett and I kissed each other.

Then he had Scarlett and I perform for him. I was certainly willing. He watched while I sucked her cock (he complimented my abilities, which I found quite flattering and endearing) and then directed her to fuck me in various positions.

It was very exciting to do it in front of him. I discovered I enjoyed having an audience. He stripped naked and I was stunned - not only was he wiry, muscular and remarkably well-preserved, but his erection was as big as any dickgirl's in the magazines. It was even longer than Scarlett's. He masturbated to us, which was just the grooviest. From his avid expression and way his dick throbbed and juiced, I could tell Scarlett and I were turning him on something fierce. That made me feel great. He came all over both of us, which excited me so much, I came too. And that, of course, set off Scarlett.

His dick didn't go down in the slightest after he came. He didn't stop jacking either, and kept shifting us from position to position. He fondled us both. I loved the feel of his hand roaming my naked body and squeezing my breasts and buttocks. He came repeatedly, covering us in his sweet-smelling cum. Scarlett rubbed it all over us both and it tingled. When she slipped her cummy fingers into my mouth, to my shock, not only was his sperm as delicious as Scarlett's, it was also powerful like hers, too; I got a rush of Seahag fever from it.

Scarlett clearly felt it too. "Wow," she said, a little dazzled, "you pack a lot more of a wallop these days, Jerry."

He chuckled. "I've been eating my Wheaties." His eyes gleamed. "Now... sodomize her."

Scarlett obliged him. Her cum-slathered cock slid up my chute with a moan of pleasure from us both. I had really come to love it up my butt in the last few days, and I loved the enraptured look on Jerry's face as Scarlett reamed me. He came on my face with a sigh of bliss.

Finally, he started participating. I got to suck that magnificent cock of his. He came in my mouth and I spiraled higher.

I loved watching him fuck Scarlett. He laid into her pussy first and then her asshole. It was impressive how he always managed to jack her off at the same time. She came more times than he did. I especially liked it when he would pull out of her ass to finish up in her mouth. Scarlett looked so sexy sucking on a big dick. He came so much it overflowed her mouth and dripped down her chin. I playfully licked up the excess.

He did the same to me, vagina-anus-mouth. As a lover, he was rougher and more dominant than Scarlett, and it inflamed me greatly. When he spanked my newly-enlarged ass, it made me come and I squealed just like she did. I especially adored it when he got on top of me so I could wrap my legs around him and kiss him. His tongue-sloppy kisses were pure magic.

He went back and forth between the two of us. The man's stamina was otherworldly. Both he and Scarlett ejaculated over and over, and the scent of their combined sperm turned my room into a candy factory.

Scarlett and I both went to work on him at the same time, switching off between sucking his cock and balls and licking his asshole. It gave me chills when we made him roar in ecstasy.

I took a bathroom break and got a real shock when I came back to find Jerry sucking off Scarlett. I did not expect to see that. It thrilled me to the quick.

I had to admit he was incredibly gifted at fellatio. He swallowed her to the balls without batting an eyelash. He groaned with intense pleasure as he sucked her, even licked her balls while she was buried in his throat. She came in his mouth with a scream and he didn't miss a drop. He kept on sucking her and she kept howling and shooting. I sat on her face and smothered her with my pussy. I came all over her face as she came in Jerry's mouth again, and she finally cried uncle.

"I didn't think," she puffed and panted, "you did that kind of thing in front of others, Jerry."

He smiled, swallowed, and licked his chops with a chuckle. "Eating one's Wheaties will change a man." He grasped her penis. "Would you like to put it up my ass, Scarlett?"

The look on Scarlett's face was priceless.

"Are you sure?" she asked him at last. I could tell she really wanted to do it; her post snapped upright in his hand and vibrated with excitement.

By way of reply, Jerry knelt with his face on the bedspread and spread his butt cheeks with both hands. His knees were planted well apart. I could see his pert little anus winking at us. My heart began racing; suddenly, I wanted very much to see this.

Scarlett rubbed her cock between his cheeks until she squirted, then fingered her cream into his ass. I could see his whole body relax, and because I knew exactly how that felt, I melted with him. She placed her big pink knob against his asshole and paused.

"Are you sure?" she asked again. I was impressed with her concern and self-control. I would have just slammed it up Jerry's round, sexy bottom without hesitation.

Again, he didn't reply, simply pressed back and let his anus expand around her knob. Her bough slipped between his cheeks with remarkable ease. They both sighed as her balls came to rest upon his.

Scarlett started out slowly and carefully, but Jerry wasn't having that. He slammed back, almost dislodging her, letting her know in no uncertain terms he wanted it fast and hard. Scarlett immediately obliged him. She humped him more aggressively than she'd ever humped me. She reached under him and jacked his cock just like he'd done for her. His face assumed an expression of transcendent joy and it lasted the whole time she was cornholing him.

Now they were putting on a show for me. I laid back and masturbated. Every time she made him ejaculate, I came. Every time she came in his ass, I came. When all three of us came together, I felt like weeping, it was so beautiful.

I wanted more. I had them both fuck me at the same time. I cowgirled Scarlett while Jerry buggered me from behind. I never dreamed I could want something so nasty so badly, but I needed to be connected to both of them. They both came in me at the same time, many times, until I was floating in the ether. It was an incredible afternoon.

~~~

We all showered. Scarlett said she had to get back to the garage and Jerry said he had to get back on the road. I flopped back on the bed to take a nap, and was a little taken aback to see Jerry pull out a huge wad of cash and hand it to Scarlett at the door. She put it in her sporran and gave him an affectionate goodbye kiss.

After he left, I asked her about it, and she said that's how she made her living. She was a whore.

"And now," she said playfully, bending to give me a kiss, "so are you."

"What do you mean?"

"Well how did you expect to pay off your two-hundred-and-twenty-two-dollar repair bill?"

"It's that much?" I exclaimed, sitting bolt upright in bed.

"Relax," she laughed. "It's only a hundred and twenty-two dollars now." She patted her sporran. "Your share of the proceeds."

"Well, where am I going to get a hundred and twenty-two dollars?"

"The same place you got the first hundred. From customers."

"Customers?"

She put a finger on my lips. "Don't worry about it. I'll take care of everything. Don't you trust me?"

She batted her eyelashes at me. I groaned and put my face in the pillow.

"Oh, don't be dramatic. Lots of regular girls make money on the sausage circuit. It's no big deal."

"It would be a very big deal to my parents," I answered hotly. Especially my father, I didn't add. He told me if I went to college I'd end up a good-for-nothing whore. I laughed in his face at the time. Now it looked like he might be right.

"And where are your parents?"

"Vermont," I sighed.

"And so what are the odds of them ever finding out about any monkey business you get up to in Kansas?"

"Zero," I muttered.

I stared into space for a bit. Thankfully, Scarlett kept quiet and let me think.

What I'd experienced that afternoon with Scarlett and Jerry was unquestionably good. I was high on dickgirl jism (what the nastier magazines called Vitamin J) and despite my current kerfuffled state, I felt confident and alive in a way previously unknown to me. I asked myself if the fact that money had changed hands made Jerry any less impressive or the experience any less significant.

It did not.

I drew a deep breath and gave Scarlett a sour look.

"I want a wig," I stated. "And no photos."

She gave me an oh come on look and I narrowed my eyes.

"I mean it. I don't want to be recognizable. And I don't want to end up in any sausage magazines."

She rolled her eyes and hugged me around the shoulders.

"Fine."

~~~

That's how I wound up spending my summer break as Scarlett Thunder's bitch.

She got me a wig. Also, before each show, she did such a great job on my make-up (she was gifted in that department as well) that I looked nothing like myself. I'd stare in the mirror and see a glamorous stranger looking back. My own mother wouldn't have recognized me.

I'm trying to stay more or less anonymous here, so I won't go into too many specifics about the shows themselves, as some of your readers may have been present. Suffice it to say, Scarlett and I would come out and do a show involving several enormous dildos (it was sort of her trademark) and a whole lot of her ejaculating on me and into the audience. The crowds always ate it up, literally and figuratively. After that, it was basically one big 'gangbang with a tip bucket.'

Fortunately, Kansas sausage joints always offered 'Seahag punch,' which was any kind of drink spiked with dickgirl spunk, and they usually had a three-drink minimum. The crowd would always be good and jayed up by the time we got on stage. We never had to deal with a disinterested audience.

Shows in which an emergent woman performed with a male or female (non-emergent) partner were rare in Kansas but not unheard-of. Supposedly they were more common further South. Here, they were more of a big event. They were called bitch shows. The dickgirl's performing partner was the bitch.

Oh that's just great, I thought when she first told me about it. I hung my head and palmed my face. That's just swell.

However... it amazed me how quickly I took to it. I expected my first outing to be a disaster, but after sucking back a few pre-show loads from Scarlett, I was, fortuitously, too high to care. It turned out to be just the right mindset. Not only was I more attuned to my performing partner, I found my new spunk-borne emotional perception now extended to the entire room. It's like I was plugged into the crowd's collective libido. I could feel their energy and their arousal, and how both fluctuated with every move we made. While we were onstage, Scarlett demonstrated how to tailor the performance to suit the crowd. I picked up on it immediately. Together, we managed to keep ramping up the power until the whole audience was whacking off in front of us. It was incredible. There was sperm flying everywhere and we were covered in it.

It was just like when we did it in front of Jerry, only with a crowd it was a hundred times messier and more exciting. It was something entirely new for me. I'd never caught the performing bug in high school; I was never in drama club and I avoided public speaking like the plague. In the Kansas sausage joints I discovered I had a latent streak of exhibitionism. For me, making a scandalous public spectacle of myself was every bit as intoxicating as dickgirl jism itself. When the crowd finally descended upon us, I was more than ready.

Being the focus of all that unbridled male lust exhilarated me. I took all they could give. What worked with the crowd worked even better one-on-one; as I engaged with each man, I could feel his pleasure and excitement as if it were my own. My arousal rose with theirs. Every time I brought a man to orgasm, it made me come myself.

I never dreamed I could come to understand men so intimately and have such a powerful empathic connection with them. I loved it. Scarlett's training served me well; I was able to easily handle the dozens of men who went between my legs and into my mouth that night.

As for Scarlett, she loved watching me get fucked by a whole bunch of guys, one after the other, and sometime two or three at a time. I loved watching her get it every which way, too. Those guys certainly didn't pull their punches, sexually speaking. It was most gratifying.

Afterwards, I surprised myself by giving the owner of the sausage joint a blowjob while he counted out our money and handed it to Scarlett. The Seahag fever was still humming in me. I could tell what he liked and how best to give it to him. I made him come in seconds flat.

"Goddam," he panted. "That's one hell of a mouth you got there, girly."

"I taught her everything she knows," Scarlett said with a smirk.

"Jesus, you should open a school for cocksuckers."

I couldn't help laughing through my sloppy mouthful. In my case, she kind of did.

I should have thought that my actions that night, and overall, what had happened to me since I met Scarlett was bad, shameful, disgraceful. I didn't. That kind of thinking - my father's kind of thinking - just couldn't seem to get any traction in my head anymore.

I'm a whore.

I thought that as we drove back to the motel. Strangely, there was no negative weight to the thought. It was just a fact. I kept expecting to feel low and degraded, but instead I felt satisfied and euphoric. And not just from riding the high of Scarlett Fever either, but from accomplishing something positive and wild. I didn't feel worthless. To the contrary, I felt uniquely valued and appreciated. Those men had concretely demonstrated my desirability many times, with their money and their seed. Their response had been unequivocal.

On the way, Scarlett pointed out various bars, restaurants, and other nondescript businesses that were also sausage joints after hours. There were an awful lot of them. It was all pretty mind-blowing.

~~~

I worked off what I owed. Scarlett would bring people to my room and we would fuck them. Mostly it was men we met at the sausage joints, sometimes it was strangers. We would both have sex with them. It was sort of like our three-way with Jerry, except only one other guy ever sucked Scarlett off and none of them let her cornhole them. Scarlett explained that men who reciprocated like that were extremely rare and precious.

I also had sex with all of the motel staff, including the maids, but that was just for fun. Now I knew why they'd all been so friendly and accommodating to me. They knew this was coming. I didn't mind. I luxuriated in all these new sexual experiences. I had come out of my mousy chrysalis and was now a fully-fledged slut.

After three weeks doing bitch shows with Scarlett, I had cleared my debt.

I packed up my good-as-new truck and resumed my journey out west. From the smooth way it ran, I could tell Scarlett had done a lot more fine-tuning and repairs than she'd billed me for. She'd put at least a grand's worth of fresh parts into it. Hearing that ancient engine purr like a kitten made me so thankful I cried.

Scarlett came with me, but only part of the way. We made several stops to perform at other sausage joints in western Kansas and I had an absolute blast. I no longer owed her anything, so we just split the money down the middle. At first, Scarlett wanted to divide it seventy-thirty, saying that as the dickgirl, she was the star and I was the support. I honestly think she believed that, too. I put my foot down. I loved Scarlett, but there was no way I was going to stand for that. She pouted a little, but acquiesced.

It was at that point I realized how much I had truly changed. At the start of our fling, there was no question she wore the pants and I was completely under the sway of her mighty cock. By mid-August, my confidence and sexuality had grown; I still adored her mighty cock, but I definitely had her pussywhipped. The worm had turned for me.

I wound up making more than enough to cover gas and all the petty cash items I could think of for the coming school year.

There was a tearful parting at the Colorado border. She invited me to stay with her and partner up permanently, but unlike my body and my outlook, my determination to attend Stanford hadn't changed.

I got to California just before Labor Day and plunged headlong into my classes and dorm life. I excelled academically and socially. Stanford has been a gas so far and I know it's only going to get better the longer I stick with it.

Scarlett and I remain devoted pen pals and occasionally talk on the phone. Once the school year is done, she tells me there's very enjoyable and profitable summer job waiting for me back in Kansas.

I can't wait to dust off my wig!

The End