Condoms I: No like Condoms, Want Make Baby - Jules Wildheart

Condoms I: No like Condoms, Want Make Baby

 

I’ve always worn condoms. Or at least, I’ve always tried to.

Since the talk about the birds and the bees in primary school, also known as sex education, abstinence, condoms and STDs were all any educator could tell us about sex.

Nothing about the animalistic urges we get when we see a prime specimen of the female species prancing around, barely clothed save paper thin, skin tight yoga outfits and how to control them.

Not even about the pleasures of our hard cocks sliding into the warmth of wet, wanting pussies.

No, it was all about the horrors and dangers of sex. Pregnancy, STDs and the shame of losing your virginity.

Needless to say I grew up a sad virgin nerd through my school days, not even getting laid in university where even the biggest of losers could find a drunk, willing mate for carnal pleasures.

But being a big ass nerd got me far in school and beyond. I became a government scholar, deployed in the foreign affairs ministry on track to become a full-fledged diplomat.

That was when the problems began.

 

Under my mentor, a senior diplomat, I had to entertain VIPs and dignitaries.

This usually meant bringing them to sleazy places such as karaoke lounges filled with hostesses or outright brothels.

I protested incessantly with my mentor the first time, pleading with him to spare me from the experience.

He laughed at me being a huge ass pussy, grown man in my late 20s afraid of playing with some real pussy, on company dime.

“bring a condom and you’ll be fine’ he chuckled, ending the conversation

And so I did. Bringing a lone piece of condom to my very first night entertainment experience. On hindsight that was a dumb ass move.

I bought a whole box of 12 ‘extra safe’ condoms, but I took my mentor’s word literally and only brought one, leaving the rest in my car.

When our delegation of 4 stepped into the lounge, my mentor was welcomed by the host like an old friend. Hostesses gathered to flirt, holding his arms and vying for attention.

Well, what was I to expect? He was a senior diplomat and this would definitely not be the first time he was entertaining guests here.

The host showed us to a large VIP room tucked at the very end of the labyrinthine velvet hallway. It was decadent to the point of obscenity. It featured luxuriously large, U-shaped black leather couches that could easily serve as California king-sized beds, a gigantic flat-screen TV playing silent music videos, dual pool tables, and a bubbling, illuminated jacuzzi in the far corner. The air in the room was dense, immediately assaulting my virgin senses. It smelled of stale cigarette smoke, expensive aged whiskey, and an overwhelmingly thick, dizzying cloud of cheap floral perfumes and raw female pheromones.

The heavy double doors swung open behind us. At least fifty eye-watering, face-meltingly hot girls from varying Asian descents flooded into the room, lining up against the far wall like a buffet of prime, fertile flesh.

My jaw practically unhinged. I had never seen so much bare skin in my entire sad, scholarly life. With snow-white complexions, ample natural tits, and wide, flared birthing hips, they were here exclusively to vie to be our companions—and our breeding receptacles—for the night. They were dressed in outfits that defied the laws of physics. Some wore barely-there, skin-tight micro dresses that rode up past their butt cheeks with every step; others wore completely see-through lace lingerie sets; and several were clad only in exotic, neon-colored string bikinis. Each girl had a laminated number strapped to her wrist.

Many were obviously not wearing any underwear beneath their dresses. I could clearly see the dark, swollen outlines of their pussy lips pressing against the thin silk fabrics. Why bother when it was all coming off later anyway?

Being the sad, visibly nervous virgin of the group, my mentor shoved me forward. I was asked to choose first.

"Take at least three, you sad fuck," my mentor laughed, slapping my back hard enough to make me stumble. "And don't pick the skinny ones. Pick the ones built to take a heavy load."

I tried settling with just one, pointing a trembling finger at a girl near the edge, but I was aggressively overruled by the host and forced to take three gorgeous, heavily-endowed ladies from Thailand. When they stepped out of the line and flanked me, my nervous system almost short-circuited.

The first girl, wearing the number 14, was a devastating beauty named Nan. Standing at 1.55m, she had jet-black hair cascading down to her waist and a perfect heart-shaped face. Her heavy, completely natural C-cup breasts were violently spilling out of a neon pink bikini top that was at least two sizes too small, the dark brown areolas peeking out from the top edges. She had a tiny, cinched waist that flared out into thick, meaty thighs and wide childbearing hips.

The second, number 28, introduced herself as Fah. She was slightly taller at 1.60m, sporting a sleek, chin-length bob. She wore a sheer, black lace dress with absolutely no bra and no panties underneath. I could stare directly at her stiff, dark pink nipples rubbing against the lace, and the smooth, hairless mound of her pussy was on full, brazen display.

The third was Ploy, number 42. Standing at 1.58m, she was the most bubbly of the trio, wearing nothing but a tiny white thong and star-shaped nipple pasties. She had an incredibly perky, edible ass that she immediately pressed against my thigh the second she reached me.

I was completely out of my depth, a pathetic lamb being led to the slaughter by three ravenous, hyper-fertile wolves.

 

And so the entertainment for the night began. Soft music played in the background while each man occupied a large couch surrounded by sexy girls of prime breeding age.

My mentor and the VIPs each had four girls with them, serving them fruits, massaging their shoulders, chatting like long lost lovers.

I had one on each side, pressing their barely clad breasts on my arms and chest as they moved my awkward hands over their shoulders so that they could get closer to me. Idle conversation was made, simple introductions with a mix of them encouraging me to hug and squeeze their young fertile bodies.

Oh the third one? Well the third one was kneeling between my legs, smiling happily with hands cupped over my crotch as we conversed. Her skilful hands coaxed an erection through subtle strokes and movements while we made introductions.