Futanari Manor Read online

  Futanari Manor

  An erotic story by Dana Bowman

  Copyright Dana Bowman, 2014

  All characters portrayed in this story are, naturally, over the age of 18.

  The mansion was beautiful, tasteful, and out of place.

  It stuck up from this dusty and secluded desert valley like it had been dropped in from above.

  I parked my car on dry gravel, walked ten yards, and there I was, among trees that belonged somewhere a lot wetter than Nevada.

  But being unusual and out of place suited the Maison d'Androgyne.

  I'd been desperate and looking for work after I got out of college. I'd been hunting in Vegas, keeping things together with part time work that wasn't even in my field, and this opportunity was incredibly... tempting; even if it was pretty decidedly work in "adult entertainment."

  Outside of Las Vegas and other areas, of course, it's legal to have a brothel in Nevada, and a brothel is exactly what this place was.

  It was situated out in the boondocks, far enough away that the place - practically its own little colony - was sixty percent of the population of a county otherwise full of scrubby cattle ranches and abandoned silver mines.

  Of course, I wasn't going to be working at the brothel, I'd be working at the brothel - a one-bedroom apartment was part of the compensation package, since I'd have to be on call.

  The pay was good - and when you include the apartment? Great.

  That's what I kept telling myself as I walked up the marble steps to the archaic-looking doorway. Great compensation.

  The door opened in front of me.

  "Mr. Culver," said the madam of the house, leaning against the doorjamb and beaming at me. "What a pleasure to meet you in person."

  'Madame Sylvia' was the name she went by in public and on the Maison's website. She was nearly six feet tall, with immaculately black hair that shone, swept back in a loose wave. She was wearing a silk robe and little else; her voice was a familiar purr, from our telephone interviews.

  Her entire body was a work of art. Her lips were gorgeously red. My eyes went there, despite the half-dozen other points of obvious beauty on display.

  "Please," I said, "Call me Andy."

  Sylvia - Madame Sylvia - narrowed smoky eyes at me, smiling. "Andy - what a lovely name. Tell me, is that short for anything, dear?"

  I laughed, a little uncertainly; it had been on my forms, right?

  But she returned the chuckle, and then she gestured for me to come inside. I stepped over the threshold, into the coolness of the foyer, felt the smooth tile under my shoes.

  Sylvia put a hand on the small of my back, guiding me inwards. I could smell her perfume, light and sweet, as she walked alongside of me.

  "You must be awfully drained from driving up those dreadful roads... and I stole a peek out of the window, my darling little Andy, and I saw you've brought most of your things with you, haven't you?"

  "My server gear, my clothes, some books," I said, leaving out some other stuff. I'd left most of my furniture to get sold off by my roommate, to make up for ditching out on him. They'd said the place I'd have to myself was furnished... I'd even seen photos. It looked like a hotel room, in every positive sense of the term.

  "I'll have the maids bring it up to your room," Sylvia said. (Maids, I thought. This just got better and better.) "May I have your key, to your car?"

  I handed my keyring to her, watched her hold it with her manicured fingertips. It jingled, sparkling in a way that a key usually doesn't - the lights in here were strange. I noticed there wasn't much sign of windows - even if I'd seen them from outside.

  "Thank you, darling," she said, dropping it in a large crystal bowl that we passed. That bow sat on a carved stone pillar, set just at hip height. If it had been outside, I would have guessed it was a bird bath.

  "What's that for? The bowl, I mean," I asked as Sylvia kept leading me.

  "Mm," she answered me, a smile in her voice.

  "Well, I'll just say, darling, that it's a bowl that's usually used to hold quite a few more keys than that. During parties, you know, a certain sort of themed parties..."

  Sylvia's reply was rather prosiac, but between her voice and what I read between the lines... a shiver ran up my back.

  Sylvia turned right, and I followed her, watching her broad hips sway as I went. (How could I help it? The silk was clinging to her in every place where it possibly could.) The hallway kept its stately and vaguely old-fashioned style, even as it got narrower and a bit less brightly lit. It felt like an office in a hotel, and that's probably exactly what it was.

  We came to a green door, which she opened. "We need to fill some things out before I can let you loose to rest up," Sylvia said over her shoulder. "I do apologize, but I think you'll enjoy this more than you might think."

  Enjoy paperwork? It didn't seem likely.

  I followed her into the office - the desk was there, which I expected, but the couch was a little more... surprising. The walls weren't lined with books, but with paintings.

  Sylvia walked behind the desk, gathering papers. My hands slid into my pockets, eyes turning over the walls...

  My cheeks colored when I recognized one of them. It couldn't really be a surprise, I thought, that the madame of a brothel could have a painting of herself done. It wasn't even that shocking that it was in the nude.

  But the sweep of it...

  Sylvia - if that was an accurate portrait - was like a Greek statue in all ways but two, looking at the portrait, which showed her resting on a silk-covered couch and grasping a bundle of grapes.

  Her hairstyle was a bit different - she was wearing it up in the portrait...

  The two differences were her breasts - I remembered enough from my art appreciation classes in college to know that Greek statues didn't really go for ripe breasts. And these were huge... I knew, abstractly, they had to be fake, that they had to be the product of some surgeons' art, but they still jutted out in just that perfect shape, peaked with dark nubs and glistening faintly with sweat.

  The other difference was between her legs.

  I'd know that the Maison d'Androgyne was for girls with... differences, different... plumbing... what you could call transsexuals or shemales.

  That wasn't going to be a problem, I'd told myself. Now, though, I could sense there might be one coming on, because looking there, seeing the contrast of Sylvia's pale, ripe shaft against her soft smooth abdomen...

  "Do you like it?" Sylvia said, her voice purring in my ear.

  I stiffened up, even as she ran her hand down along my side. I was wearing a polo shirt, one that was a little tightly fit; the pressure of her fingertips through the business-casual fabric made my toes curl inside of my sneakers. It wasn't the only way in which I was stiff, now.

  "I had a feeling about you," Sylvia continued, with a low chuckle. "Not everyone comes to apply for jobs at places like this..."

  "Your ad was amazing, and then I found out it wasn't a bait and switch," I protested. "It's not like -"

  "Not like you wanted to live in a colony of sexually liberated shemales? To be surrounded by women - men - something in between? To see gorgeous women surrounding you, and know that each and every one of them..."

  Sylvia's hand snaked over my belly, and she pressed against me.

  She was taller than me... it was a reversal of how this kind of encounter was supposed to go, wasn't it?

  She was tall enough that her chin could almost rest atop my head. Her hand slid further down, fingers splaying out as she drew nearer to the top of my slacks.

  I was frozen there, sweat welling out of me as Sylvia's hand raised from my body... reached down further... and cupped my groin. She squeezed there, once, and I felt my entire body shudder.

  "Every one of them has something like THIS?"

  I groaned, helplessly.

  Sylvia slid her face down, leaning a bit. Her lips nearly brushed mine, her breath a perfumed wind over my skin as she purred, "Are you curious, dear?"

  This was going too far, too fast, I thought.

  Oh god - I'd had the thought here and there, that some place like this might be unusual, might even be fun... I hadn't thought that...

  Sylvia's fingers unfastened the clasp of my belt. As she tugged it aside, I swallowed, and said with a quaver in my voice I wasn't quite glad to hear, "I'm... curious..."

  "Curious about what?"

  "About... about you..."

  Sylvia chuckled smokily, grinding her hips against me. I felt something hard there, I felt it press against me, nestling against the cleft of my bottom.

  "Oh, Andy, darling, don't flatter me... I'm sure I'm making a strong impression, but I don't think you're being quite honest. You seem as if there's something in specific you're curious about."

  Her lips kissed my ear, along the line of my jaw. "Is it... my cock?"

  Another kiss. "My breasts?"

  Another. "My ass?"

  Yet another. "My lips? My skin? My hands...?'

  As she said that, her fingers peeled my jeans down. They slid along my hips; she'd trapped my boxers as well, and they fell, leaving me bare and exposed.

  Exposed and bare and hard as a rock.

  Sylvia's fingers slid down around the base of my shaft. She squeezed lightly, raising me upwards.

  "Well?" she purred, her lips drawing down to kiss at my neck. Sucking, teasing.

  "I'm curious," I breathed, "about..."

  The word spilled out of me, sudden and fast. Maybe it was from Sylvia's touch, or maybe it w
as my destiny. Either way, it made Sylvia purr in delight, and it took me a moment to recall what I'd said.

  I'd said...

  I'd said - the word I'd said aloud...

  Sylvia's hand slid up along my shaft, drawing the skin up as she purred into my throat, "Curious about cocks... well, darling. Well, well. Are you really curious, then?"

  "Yes," I said, panting already. My heart was racing.

  Sylvia's hand rose from my cock - to my shoulder. Pressing me down. Turning me.

  I almost collapsed, my pants and briefs a pool around my ankles. I found myself leaning against Sylvia, my hands coming up to grasp at her hips.

  "Darling, darling, don't get ahead of yourself," she said with another rich laugh.

  Her hands came down, cool and strong and precise, guiding me to a posture where I was stable - kneeling in my own pants, yes, but stable. Staring dead ahead.

  And those draping folds of silk were hanging over quite a bulge.

  Sylvia reached down as I admired the wide hips and the fat swelling in them; guiding the white silk apart, she slid out her shaft.

  The portrait was accurate... it was thick, and long, and heavy. She slid back her foreskin, a strange and dizzying scent wafting to my already sensitized nose.

  Her cockhead was broad and glistening, the shaft itself well scrubbed but showing a certain darkness from what must have been a lengthy career of sex. Her base was sparsely thatched with black hair, trimmed, orderly, neat. Like the garden out front, I thought.

  It was so close. The shaft was dangling in front of me.

  I breathed in its scent. I felt my breath wash out over it, my lips feeling suddenly sensitive. A quivering filled my stomach, my fingers curling into loose fists on my knees as I stared at it. My cheeks were burning.

  Sylvia's long fingers came down, grasping her base.

  "Are you just going to stare, darling? Have you never seen a cock from this angle before?" she asked me. "From down on your knees?"

  My heart was pounding.

  I felt cold, hot, elated, ashamed, all at once. Five minutes ago I'd been in the parking lot, and now there was a huge dick bobbing in front of me... a shemale dick, at that. I'd have assumed, in the past, I'd find a situation like this to be silly, ridiculous, maybe funny... maybe scary.

  Now the only fear I felt was the ache that came with being too close to someone.

  That feeling of being on the threshold of intimacy, of being at risk of letting myself go. My mouth was full of my own saliva; I swallowed, breathed out (Sylvia said 'ooh!' as my breath washed over her)...

  Sylvia lightly slid her cock forwards: "If you're just going to gasp, I'm going to take advantage... just pull back, darling, if you don't like it."

  And that cockhead was coming closer and closer to my lips. My eyes crossed. My mouth hung open - and Sylvia slid the tip down, parting my lips and giving herself room to slide inside. I felt a wet pressure in my mouth as her shaft slid over my tongue, followed by a bloom of that intoxicating mixture of sweat, musk, and bitter-salty tang...

  I could taste other things, the lingering aroma of rubber, of that sharp chemical spermicide they wrapped condoms in.

  My eyes rolled back, imagining where Sylvia's cock must had been.

  Where?

  How close?

  How soon?

  How recently?

  How many times?

  This was a working place... did she... had she...

  And all of these things didn't take away from the simple, aching fact that I had a shaft in my mouth. A hard shemale dick, filling me - poking, now, almost into the back of my throat.

  I swallowed - my mouth tightened. Gurgled, lightly.

  My eyes shut...

  And I started sucking.

  Wet and hungry slurps.

  Now that I'd started it, I might as well finish, I thought with a flustered, fluttering feeling in the pit of my belly.

  Sylvia's cock swelled in my mouth as I sucked. (As I sucked cock, I thought, dizzily.) "Oh, Andy darling!" she gasped out, staggering to the side - grasping the arm rest of that nearby couch to support herself, her cock dragging partly out of my mouth, the head resting on the plump cushion of my lips. "You're really getting into it, aren't you?"

  The cock was tugging my lips to the side - I turned my head without thinking, a sudden cool pang washing up my spine as I realized just what I was doing.

  What had I done...? I had been passive, so far. Sylvia had touched me.

  Teased me.

  Gotten me hard, even thrust into my mouth. But nothing I'd done was... was really my own idea .Not until now...

  Because there wasn't any way around it. I was sucking her cock now.

  Sylvia's hand came behind my head and gently pushed down.

  With a wet swallow her shaft slid over my tongue, my eyes watering as the tang of it filled my senses, as the tip of that plump shemale shaft hit the back of my throat.

  Sylvia rolled her hips as she ground there. I felt myself gag, even as her other hand came down to stroke through my hair. "Oh, Andy, darling!" she cried out, her cock throbbing.

  With a sudden pressure she was in my throat. I gagged, just a bit, my eyes watering...

  Her skin smelled of subtle sweat and musk and perfume as she slid all the way down. I breathed deep of the scent of her groin as her cock twitched in her mouth. Sylvia gasped again, and then drew slowly backwards. "Oh, it's going to..."

  Her fingers were twining in my hair, tugging me back. I felt my cheeks hollow as I sucked. The sensual texture of that silky-skinned cock was filling my mouth, my lips...

  "It's going to blow!" Sylvia gasped.

  Her cock had slid from my throat, just in time for her to erupt. The first blast of her hot, thick spunk washed over the back of my tongue, sitting there like a fresh oyster.

  Sylvia moaned as she pulled further back yet, and I didn't stop sucking. I couldn't stop sucking.

  My eyes were closed now; I was shaking. My cock was hard as iron, jutting out between my thighs as I crouched, the tail of my shirt brushing against it, making it twitch.

  The flavor of Sylvia's cum filled me. The taste was ripely exquisite... salty, with a faintly bitter aftertaste.

  She grasped the base of her shaft, stroking herself off - finishing into me. Her cock drew out from between my lips with a wet "pop."

  I looked up at her.

  My mouth was full of her seed.

  "Well?" she said, narrowing her eyes at me - and reaching down to touch my nose with one manicured fingernail.

  "What are you going to do with that, I wonder?"

  I was pulsing like a drumhead. I could feel my pulse in my ears, and in my cock as well. The taste was there, huge and sophisticated, on my tongue.

  My eyes tightened.

  I swallowed. My throat moved - I could hear the gurgle echoing throughout me.

  It ran down my throat.

  Her cum ran down my throat.

  "Good boy," Sylvia purred, drawing her hips back. Her cock was still glistening with my spit; it had flagged a bit, but it was quite definitely still erect.

  I breathed heavily, her taste pervading me.

  She cupped my face with one hand, tilting my chin upwards. "Do you think your curiosity is satisfied?"

  "Huh?" I asked, eyes struggling to focus. The hard throbbing in my groin wasn't getting any better.

  "Your curiosity," she said - and oh, her lips were so terribly red and moist as she said it, crushed berry-juice seeming to drip from her with every word, bittersweet and seductive - "about cocks..."

  I swallowed again, tasted more of her cum.

  The cum I'd sucked from her cock. "Ahh," I breathed out.

  Sylvia tugged me upright suddenly, my feet sliding out from the legs of my slacks. I looked up at her as she held me while I found my footing; I groaned, too, when I felt my cock touch hers.

  It was the same hot shaft I'd sucked, but from this direction...

  She throbbed against me, hardening again. She slid her hand down from the side of my face, down along the nape of my neck - and pulled me forwards.

  My cock slid along her own, passed over the soft, smooth, and terribly - terribly massive space of her balls.

  They were huge - she was huge, compared to me. I was still throbbing; I felt myself smear precum against her shaft.

  "What a darling little face you're making now," Sylvia purred. "I think it deserves a reward."

  My shaft was sliding in further, her own member sliding along the flesh of my hip, pressing against the skin there. I could feel her pulse. I was being pushed closer; my face cradling against her breasts, and...