When I asked Jill for a date, she laughed at me. That was back in high school. Jill said she didn't date jerky nerds like me and was going to marry the team's quarterback. And she did.

Ten years later, I bumped into her at Target. I recognized Jill immediately. A girl like Jill isn’t easy to forget. Her blond hair was cut shorter than I remembered, and her body had filled out, but she was still the gorgeous person I had fantasized about when I was eighteen.

She didn't know me from Adam when I introduced myself as a classmate.

"So, you were in my graduating class?" she asked.

"Yes. We were in a few classes together. I was one of the nerdy guys you wouldn't date. You didn't give me the time of day. Your sights were on our quarterback."

She laughed, the same laugh I remembered from high school, and said, "You sound bitter, Hank."

"I was back then but that was a long time ago. Things have changed since then."

"How is that?"

"Oh, I got lucky. The computer software company I developed in college was in the right niche and was bought out by a Fortune 500 company last year.”

“So, you are like a Bill Gates,” Jill suggested.

“Sort of but not quite the same. How about you?"

"I got married out of high school. Do you remember, Dan?"

"You mean our quarterback?"

"Yes, but it didn't last. We got divorced two years ago. I moved in with my parents this year. They added a small apartment to their house for my grandma. She died recently, so that's where I’m staying these days. Are you married, Hank?"

"No,” was my short and direct answer. “Look, Jill, this might seem presumptuous but how about catching up at lunch?"

Jill didn’t react at first as if she was looking for an excuse to say no. Finally, she said, "I guess so. They don't have my size here, so I am going to Dillard's this afternoon. Lunch would be a nice break from shopping."

“I'll drive, if you don’t mind, then drop you back here after lunch."

"That would be very nice, Hank," and we walked out to the parking lot.

"Oh my God, Hank, this is yours? It’s amazing! What is it?”

“This is a Bugatti Chiron, French.”

“It’s awesome! I've always dreamed of riding around in a sports car like this. It must have been awfully expensive."

"Only when I bought it," I quipped.

She gave me a blank stare for a second or two, then giggled. "You're funny."

I asked, "Would the La Porte Virte be all right for lunch?"

"You mean the French restaurant near the Hilton? I'd love it, but I'm not dressed for an upscale restaurant like that."

"Don't worry, the maître d knows me. Maurice is very understanding especially with beautiful women like you. Just give him your radiant smile and we're in."

"Bonjour, Monsieur Henri, Madame," Maurice said before leading us to a quiet table with a view of the lake. "Will you have the usual wine before ordering?"

"Yes, Maurice, and bring us shrimp cocktails s'il te plaît."

"Oui, Monsieur Henri. Do you wish the flutes to be chilled?"

"No, Maurice. Room temperature will be fine."

I explained to Jill that Maurice always asks about the Champagne glasses. I said, “As the maître d, he feels obligated to be somewhat of a wine snob. He thinks that chilled glasses lose some of the aromas of sparkling wine. Maybe so but the truth is that Maurice always asks as his way of discreetly approving of my guest. If needed, it also allows me to impress the virgins."

Confused she asked, “Virgins? I don’t get it.”

“Maurice knows that I prefer to bring new acquaintances to lunch. He once joked I was auditioning them for a more serious relationship because the women I’ve known longer come with me for dinner. He says virgins at lunch, courtesans for dinner."

Oh, I see.” She smiled then said, "Well, count me as impressed but being called a virgin is a little behind the times."

The noon special was etched on a 'Menu du jour' chalkboard. I ordered it for both of us. Along with the bottle of Dom Perignon, and the shrimp appetizer, we had filet of sole à la meunière. As usual, the filet of sole was cooked to perfection.

I was interested in her life but tried not to pry. It wasn't necessary. We had barely finished our shrimp when it became evident that she was an open book. Jill said she had done some modeling when she was younger. Now she is a music agent. "I book shows for bands and meet a lot of really great people along the way," she said.

Eventually, we got around to her marriage. "It was great for two years," Jill reflected, "then Dan started sleeping around. When he did it with my best friend, well I decided to get revenge and have some affairs of my own."

"Jill, with your beauty, every man would love to be with you." What I meant without saying it was, "would love to fuck you."

"At first, I didn't think that was true," she remarked. "The first guy I went to bed with was dating a girl I knew at work. We had an office party, and he was there with my friend. I don't remember how it started, but I gave him my e-mail address, and the next thing I knew we were shacking up at a motel."

"How was it? I mean, were you nervous or did you think you were cheating?"

"Nervous, yes; cheating, no."

I sipped some Champagne and waited for her to say more. She was silent looking into her wine glass, searching for the right words. Finally, she said, "You know, Hank, it was kind of exciting. After that first time, I made myself more available, you know, less guarded with guys. I began to enjoy the hunt, the excitement, the challenge. It became like a game of chance when I realized that men are like moths to a flame."

"So, I'm a moth and you're the flame?" I teased.

"No, Hank. Don't joke about it. Maybe I'm the moth today taking advantage of you with this beautiful lunch. Anyway, that's enough about me. So, Hank, where are you living?"

"I bought Reynold's property. They sold it when they moved to their retirement place in Florida."

"Oh my God. You bought Reynold's place! Everyone knows Reynold's place. It's the Taj Mahal of our town."

"Yeah, well I mowed their lawn as a kid and always thought it would be a nice place to call home. It needed some interior renovations and new landscaping. It looks really nice now."

"Oh, I'd love to see what you've done with it."

"Look, Jill, I have a meeting in an hour. Let's get together tomorrow night. I’ll cook dinner and give you a tour of the place. Give me your address. I'll pick you up at seven."

"Thanks, Hank, but tomorrow is my parents' thirty-seventh wedding anniversary. We're going out somewhere to celebrate. Maybe some other time."

I was disappointed that our mini-reunion was over so soon. I found consolation that night with Alex. She was, as Maurice characterized her, a courtesan although I didn't take her to the La Porte Verte that night. I threw two lobsters in a pot of boiling water, warmed some French onion soup, and cut thick slices of baguette that I had baked that morning. The rest of the evening was spent in bed.

Alex and I met at a bookstore a year earlier. Each of us was in the historical fiction section. I was hoping to find another Philip Kerr novel. Alex picked a book that looked like a romance novel. My eyes followed her tight ass and voluptuous tits to the checkout counter. We checked out our books and walked to our cars. They were parked side by side, her Chevy Camaro that needed a little bodywork and my sports car.

"My God, what a fabulous car!" she said admiring my Bugatti. "I sure would like to meet the guy who owns it."

"Well, you've just met him."

"It's yours? Really? What is it called?" she asked.

"It's a Bugatti, French. Would you like to take a spin?"

"Of course, I'd love to! I'm Alexandra but everyone calls me Alex. And you are?"

"Henry Decampere but call me Hank."

"Okay, Hank, take me away in your lovely chariot."

I drove her around town for fifteen minutes, then asked, "Would you like to see what she can do on the highway?"

"I've got all day. Let's go," she answered with effusive enthusiasm.

I didn't ask if she was married, her job, or where she lived. Alex didn't ask questions either except she begged me to let her drive. For another half-hour, she drove the Bugatti like she was a race car driver.

She parked back at the library and gave me a thank-you kiss with her hand on my thigh. Two minutes later she had my cock down her throat.

From the library, we went to my place to get better acquainted. Alex wanted to know how I got rich at such a young age. I told her a little about the technology company I started and how it was bought out by a large multinational corporation. I kept it short and to the point, enough to satisfy her curiosity and in my eagerness to take a test drive in her pussy. Alex was a perfect match for my desires. She liked my money as much as I lusted for her cunt. We fucked our brains out for the rest of the afternoon.

Alex agreed to meet me the next night for dinner at the local steak house where she had been a waitress during college. After dinner, we spent a few hours at a jazz club where all the guys knew her. We left the club at twelve-thirty and Alex stayed the night as she did most nights afterward.

I learned that Alex was twenty-three and was working on a master's degree in sociology. As it turned out, she was a girl who craved excitement, and sex seemed to be what set her off the most.

When we weren’t in bed together, Alex was doing her dissertation on sexual practices of ancient civilizations and researching those that continue today. If I was among her case studies, the answer was obvious. I lusted for her tits, her pussy, her ass, and her sweet face. It's the body, stupid.

During our bedtime together, I learned that sexual customs have changed little over the years with almost no limit to the variety. We practiced most of them. An undergrad tour of Europe was the catalyst to deciding on her thesis. In Pompeii, Alex was turned on by what academics call erotic art, but she recognized them as Ancient Greek pornography. The Greeks were not alone in depicting sexual acts and customs in their ceramics, paintings, sculptures, and literature. Even before civilizations as we know them today, sex was relatively promiscuous, and paternity was not an issue. I was fascinated. Each of her mini-lectures ended with our own intimate research.

In college, most of my time was spent writing computer code. It was an addiction, so I seldom dated. My first sexual experience was at a party my junior year. The girl had an addiction as well and almost dragged me into bed. It was embarrassing since I had no idea what I was doing but exciting. I had no idea about a woman's expectations. After that first time, I took time off from coding and got laid whenever I found the right kind of girl. After a while, I realized that all girls were the right kind.

But it was Alexandra who helped me become more adventurous. Alex told me many cultures weren’t always discriminating about the gender of their partners or their sexual practices. She introduced me to anal sex that she said was popular in Ancient Peru, and we explored a variety of other novel foreign and ancient preferences.

Alex and I had been together for about a month when she said a few of her friends were giving an Ides of March party. We were invited. It was a dress-up affair so we wore tunics, sandals, and head wreaths.

There was about a dozen young adults at the party. The guys dressed as soldiers or gladiators. Most of the girls wore togas. Alex went as the scandalous Messalina. I was Tiberius. But I had no idea that there was more to the party than commemorating Caesar’s assassination. It shouldn’t have been unexpected. Alex loved excitement and this was exactly the kind of excitement she craved.

The first thing that I remember about the party was that Alex was busy making everyone feel welcome. By that, I mean she flirted with all the guys. There were times that she disappeared with one of them. Eventually, it occurred to me that she was doing more than flirting.

Meanwhile, I was distracted by Norma, the hostess. Norma leaned over a lot when she served the guests, which meant giving the guys an unrestricted look. She wore a very loose-fitting Empress costume with a dress that was split to the top of her thighs. Norma’s visible melon size boobs completed her attire.

Walking past one of two bedrooms, the moaning and groaning inside piqued my curiosity. What was a curious guy to do but take a quick look inside. I wasn’t surprised to see that Alex was doing the moaning, but more surprising was that two ‘gladiators’ were double-teaming her.

Threesomes were depicted in several ancient documents and illustrated in Kama Sutra. Alex said we should try it. I said I wasn’t ready and wanted to wait. So, you might say that at the Ides of March party, she internalized her desires.

Maybe it was lust. Maybe it was jealousy but now I was ready. I took Norma aside and thanked her for a wonderful party and suggested it might be more memorable in the bedroom. Norma was blonde but not a dumb blonde. She said her boyfriend, who called himself Spartacus. might not like the idea. I said, “Ask him to join us.”

Norma blinked three times as if she was trying to understand what I had said, then slapped my face. But blonde or not, the fourth blink was a wink and the three of us went to the upstairs bedroom. It was fortunate that her costume was loose because it fell to the floor only seconds after Spartacus closed the door.

Norma was an excellent cocksucker and took care of both of us for the first few minutes. I was on my back when she straddled me and shoved my cock into her slippery pussy. Her boyfriend wasn’t far behind; in fact, he was quickly in her behind. We stroked her for what I hoped would be forever but forever only lasted until another couple began pounding on the door wanting in.

Norma was such a great hostess. She told them, in her words, “Come on in and get your kicks on Route 69!” At that, with her massive tits jiggling in my face, I shot ferocious squirts of cum straight up her fuck hole. There aren’t sufficient words to say how great that felt. Spartacus kept screwing her ass as the other couple walked in the door stripping down while they watched. Spartacus didn’t finish until the new girl pulled him off Norma and stuck his black cock down her throat where he finally succumbed to her oral stimulation.

So, the five of us exchanged partners several times before all of us were exhausted. Even the girls had had enough. Later, I learned from Alex that I missed the slave gangbang that had happened downstairs.

The girls that wanted to be chosen as the "slave" had their names placed in a hat. The guy calling himself Nero pulled a name from the hat. The girl’s name was Scylla. She was a cute petite girl of about nineteen that appeared to be embarrassed but performed like a whore.

Nero was first, followed by three more eager pricks that buried their hard staffs deep inside Scylla’s tight pussy. Scylla squealed when Pedro stretched her young twat to the limit with his thick meaty cock, slowly working it in until he was balls deep. With the other men, she moaned with pleasure. None of the guys pulled out until they filled her tiny passageway with an abundance of their creamy juices.

Scylla got rousing applause and hugs and kisses from her girlfriends when it was over. Needless to say, the four men who had just pleasured themselves in Scylla’s pussy, pulled up their pants and went to the fridge for beer to discuss sports.

The ironic twist, Alex told me, was that Scylla had sex only once before the party. It was with her boyfriend in the backseat of his Kia. “She said it was a tight squeeze but didn’t say what she meant by that. The reason she was willing to play the gangbang lottery was for a chance to ‘catch up,’ as she put it.” Alex and I agreed that the early Romans couldn’t have had a better orgy than ours.

*** But wait, there’s more cumming in Part Two! ***