“Don’t talk much, I see,” she commented and now we were on the first landing where a statue of, I believe, Tycho Brahe, telescope in hand, seemed to cast an approving eye my way. “But we’re not much about talk here at the club—” Her hand slid up my arm. “We’re all about doing.”
Finally, my powers of speech were re-afforded to me. “You’re, uh, quite a delight, Ammi. I, um—”
Her hand brazenly cradled my rump as we stepped up to the second landing. “Oh, don’t be so nervous. I’m going to show you a great time!”
Patrons ahead of us disappeared behind various doors. Ammi took me sprightly along the carpeted hall, almost bounding with each step. She approached a door and simultaneously slid her hand across my groin, whereupon I came close to lifting off my heels.
She paused at the door, turning to me with a scolding grin. “Shame on you, sir. There’s no reason to do that, you know. Not here!”
It was only then, receiving my first frontal look at her, that I became apprised of the extent of Ammi’s diversity. To call her a “colourful” girl would be a howling understatement: her hair was a long silken coppery red while obsidian-black eyebrows adorned her forehead. The abundant hair of her pubic area, however, shined blond as sunlit wheat. Breasts the circumference of tangerines sat erect on her chest. Only after fathoming this full glance at her did I recollect her odd remark.
“Pardon me, but I don’t know what you mean. There’s no reason to do what?”
Her hand found my groin again, and played there ever intently. “This package, sir, can’t all be you,” she giggled. “Oh, I know how men sometimes stuff socks and whatnot in their briefs to make themselves look bigger to the ladies but—really!—in a brothel, sir, the truth is always out once the breeches are down.”
I stared in utter bewilderment. “Socks, did you say? Really, miss—I can’t imagine what—”
“Come on!” she exclaimed, opened the door, and pulled me in.
The door itself was a marveclass="underline" nine panels, and hung within a stunning embrasured frame that I knew at a glance to be pure Federal Period. The bed-chamber impressed me even more, as I’d always been one to revel in the designs of the past rather than those of tasteless modernity. “A genuine William and Mary poster bed!” I gasped. The black-oak bedstead was a work of carven art. A Chippendale half-table sat beside the splendid bed, while opposite stood a grand armoire that could only be a genuine Hepplewhite. My host’s delightful breasts bobbed as she closed the door, then strode toward me. She grabbed my hand and pulled, and said as if to a naughty toddler, “You’re a bad boy, sir. Ammi might have to punish you with a spanking for what you’ve done.”
She grabbed an exquisite steamed-wood chair about and plopped right down in it, positioning me to stand before her.
“I say, you’d be advised to treat that chair with care, miss,” I warned. “Unless I’m mistaken, it’s a genuine Adam. The canework alone is without peer.”
“Oh, shut up, you,” she sputtered and at once fumbled with my belt. “We’ll get to the bottom of this. If it’s all you in here, I’ll be a monkey’s aunt…”
I remained mystified by her coy complaint. A sudden modesty overwhelmed me when she unfastened my trousers, then hastily slid them down along with my briefs.
Ammi stared with a dropped jaw, stared right at my bared groin. “You’ve got to be kidding me…”
“What?” I asked, but my feet shifted a bit, from the cringing embarrassment of being so closely and privately examined. All I could think to utter was, “I, uh, I suppose it’s not as large as you’re use to,” and I chuckled nervously “But there’s little I can do about that.”
She gaped up with jade-green irises burning beneath the blacker-than-onyx eyebrows. “Not as large? This is the biggest prick I’ve ever seen…”
Her remark befogged me, for in her tone I detected not a trace of prevarication. “You, uh, you mean to say that my… member is more sizable than the average you’re accustomed to?”
She snapped in a course delight. “It’s the biggest cock I’ve ever had hanging in my face, and I can tell you, there’ve been quite a few!” and with that she began to stroke the drooping shaft of flesh with a lithe finger.
I chuckled. “You flatter me, Ammi, but I’m sure you’re being over-lenient in your assessment of my privates.”
She giggled another “Shut up!” and without reservation sucked the entirety of my flaccid penis into her mouth. The adroitness of her oral skill sent shivers through my being. (This, for me, was a pleasure long forgotten; my ex-wife had a knack for it, I will say, but her preference for penetration always won out. Many was the night I’d gaze at the ceiling contemplating Poe, Machen, and Blackwood whilst she hopped ludicrously up and down on me, enfrenzied akin to a mare in heat.) But as for this highly spirited and deliciously naked Ammi, erecting my manhood seemed to be her most steadfast desire. It didn’t take long before its girth actually stretched her lips. She nearly gagged sliding it out. “Jesus Christ, mister! It’s so big I can’t even get it all in my mouth!”
“I—I… don’t know what to say…”
She checked my hands, examining them, evidently, for traces of a wedding band. “So you’re not married?”
“Oh, no, not anymore.”
“Well, it’s an awful shame that some happy woman isn’t getting this stuck in her every night!”
I felt foolish presuming to converse whilst my nearly erect privates wobbled up and down, and that was not to mention the preposterous entails of our discourse. “I was married once but I’m afraid the halls of academe proved far more my forte than the pastures of domesticity and wedlock.”
She glared at me. “Shut up!” and then she yanked me to the bed and nearly threw me down on it. “Now… I’ve just got to know!”
I peered toward where she now rummaged through a drawer in the spectacular armoire. “Know what, if I may ask?”
“Just how big this monster is!” she replied, returning with a tin ruler. Her frenzied hand pumped the penile shaft in utter awe, until full erection had been achieved, whereupon she aligned the rule to it…
“Holy shit!” she profaned.
My penis, now fully invigorated, slightly exceeded the rule’s maximum length.
It was a twelve-inch rule.
Ammi went all in a frenzy now, retrieving something else from the armoire and then returning to the bed to boldly straddle me with her bare hips. “No more fooling around,” she determined, opening a modest foil package. “For every minute that this gorgeous cock isn’t buried in my bush, that’s a minute of horrible waste!”
“What’s that… you’ve got there?” I asked, my eyes asquint.
“Don’t want to put a bun in little Ammi’s oven, do you?”
The frail, flavescent object in her hands was a barrier prophylactic, one of the newer Latex versions by its look. I could hardly object to its non-prescriptive and, hence, illegal utility here, as prostitution was no less illegal.
Ammi’s face turned flustered, and, again, she profaned, “Shit, your cock’s so big, I hope it doesn’t bust the goddamn thing!”