Sitting at my kitchen table, I was staring at a stack of envelopes; some marked "PAST DUE," others marked "FINAL NOTICE," all in bright red. I knew I was in financial trouble and had no idea how I'd find my way out. "Fucking Pandemic," I thought.

Tears began to flow from my eyes as I gathered the bills and placed them with last month's version of the same bad news.

My name is Penelope Barnes. I was born in Harrow, UK, a small suburb outside London, in June 1978 and lived a normal English childhood until the summer of 1987 when my mother passed away after battling breast cancer for nearly a year. The following spring, my dad informed me that he had taken a transfer with his employer and that we would be moving to Australia.

Sixty days later, with all my most precious belongings packed in two suitcases and a large steamer trunk, we boarded a flight to the other side of the world. You can imagine how anxious I was, a ten-year-old proper British girl, instantly transported to the world of Koalas, Kangaroos, Wallabies, and Wombats, not to mention someplace called "The OutBack."

Dad settled into his new job, leaving me to deal with the giggles and strange looks at school myself. Somehow, I made it through the next eight years and graduated from high school just before my nineteenth birthday. On my birthday, Dad sat me down and tried his best to explain "The Birds and Bees of life, something I'd been dealing with alone since I reached the end of puberty. I thought it odd that he hadn't noticed the signs before, my breasts grew to a healthy 36 DD, and I taught myself how to use feminine products when I began getting my period. He did, however, warn me about men and how many would do or say anything to get into my panties, something that I'd learn about firsthand in the following couple of years.

I took a job working at a small general store while hoping to attend the local community college, but somehow those plans were put aside. During that time, I met Gwen, a lovely girl whose Australian accent confirmed she was a lifelong Aussie. We became dear friends and remain close to this day. Gwen knew her way around men, often teasing them religiously, but occasionally, when one caught her fancy, she'd give in to their advances.

Every so often, a rugged-looking thirty-something cowboy would come in to re-stock his supplies. From his appearance, I assumed he knew his way around The OutBack. He was friendly enough and had a way of speaking that put me at ease. I asked Gwen about him, and she told me she knew him and that he could be a lot of fun to be with. I figured by that; she meant he'd be a great lover.

I followed Gwen's lead and began teasing Hugh when he visited the store. I'd give him ample opportunities to look down at my blouse and made sure to smile as sexily as I could after he'd stolen a glimpse of my succulent 36 DD tits. Like clockwork, his visits would always be late on Friday afternoon, and after several weeks he asked me if I'd like to go out with him. I, of course, agreed, and after I got off work, we took a rather long walk into the bush.

Hugh was gentle, and considerate, and said all the right things to put me at ease. As the sun set that Friday night, he kissed me for the first time, a tender, loving kiss that caused butterflies of anticipation to be released in the pit of my stomach. While his kiss lingered, I placed my hand on his and drew it up to my chest, basically permitting him to caress what he'd only gazed at before.

As he gently fondled my tits, I moved one hand to his loins, and I touched a fully erect dick for the first time. Even though his jeans and underwear, I could feel his firmness, and I knew that before the night ended, I wanted to feel his rock-hard cock in my hand.

He broke our loving kiss and asked, "Are you sure about this, Penelope?"

I was never surer about anything and answered his question by squeezing his hard cock with my delicate hand.

Hugh's throaty moan confirmed that he got my message. As I stroked him through his pants, he removed my blouse and bra and began kissing my sensitive tits and nipples. It seemed like an eternity but was more likely a few minutes until he had lifted my skirt and dew my panties down my legs.

I wanted him, and he wanted me. Somehow Hugh was able to undo his pants and released his throbbing cock from its cotton prison. It pressed against my thigh, and I instantly reached for it circling his pulsing erection with my hand.

I remember to this day what it felt like, searingly hot, with smooth as silk flesh and a flaring bump that circled his shaft just below the head.

I discovered that night just how sensitive a man's corona is.

"Take me," I urged, wanting to feel his wonderful cock slip inside me.

He moved with incredible slowness, his throbbing cock head spreading my labia open, and I again pleaded, "God, I want you inside."

I gave him the gift of my virginity that night; the pain of his rock-hard cock stretching my hymen was quickly replaced with the incredible sensation of having a man's cock fully embedded in my tight pussy. In my mind, the final step from naïve adolescence to an empowered woman was to feel his hot seed coating the walls of my cunt.

As his balls pumped me full, I realized my fate was sealed. The sensation of his lava-hot, thick creamy cum would be something I'd crave from that night on, a feeling that would cause problems in the future.

Over the next few months, Hugh's visits to the general store became more frequent, and he became my sexual tutor. Showing me the almost endless positions for enjoying vaginal sex, demonstrating the mind-bending art of cunnilingual stimulation, and of course, training me to become a master of fellatio. His was the first man seed I'd ever tasted, and from that first savory load of thick creamy cum I'd forever be a connoisseur of what a man's balls provide.

Of course, I kept Gwen up to date on my newfound sexual prowess, and when the evening air became cooler, she offered to have me meet Hugh at her place. I have to admit that making love on a comfortable bed far outweighs being fucked outdoors on the ground. The first few times we fucked at Gwen's, she pretty much left us to enjoy one-on-one sex, but after a couple of weeks, she suggested that she join our party. Hugh immediately agreed.

Gwen is two years older than me and has a firm body. Her tits, while smaller than mine, seem to accentuate her form, and when aroused, her nipples harden into tiny nubs at the center of pink areolas. She wears her dark hair short, almost spikey, highlighting her high cheekbones and full pouty lips.

I recall one sweltering fuck session when I had mounted Gwen sixty-nine and was lavishing her swollen cunt with my mouth, and Hugh was pounding me from behind with his rock-hard cock.

Rather than filling my hot wet cunt with his seed, when he climaxed, he pulled out and shot ropes of thick cum on my sphincter and swollen labia; it ran from my loins and splashed onto Gwen's face.

It was a scorching scene, and I immediately turned and began slurping his thick cum from her face. That was the first time I'd ever shared my lover's cum load with another woman.

Hugh's cock is five inches when fully erect, big enough to fill me entirely but not long enough to pierce my throat when I take him fully inside my mouth.

You can imagine my surprise when Hugh and I arrived at Gwen's one Friday night to find one of her suitors reclined naked and hard on the bed. His mammoth cock rose eight inches above his loins, thick and gnarly with a bulbous head and broad flaring corona. Gwen giggled and then said, "Let's suck some cock."

She mounted him sixty-nine, and I followed suit, settling down on Hugh's body. As I pleasured my man, I paid particular attention to Gwen's oral technique. As she sucked his enormous cock to the half shaft, her salvia glands kicked in, and in a matter of minutes, his entire shaft and balls were coated with her thick spit.

Little by little, his cock shaft disappeared between her wet lips. I noticed her stomach lurch as his bulbous cock head stretched her throat open. I recall his harsh throaty moan just before he encouraged her, saying, "Swallow all of it."

In a moment, her slippery lips surrounded his thick shaft at the base, and her nose nuzzled into his thick curly pubic hair. She was deep-throating his huge cock, and he loved it.

I did the same with Hugh, taking his cock fully in my mouth until my lips circled him just above the base of his shaft. I provided him with every oral pleasure except the sensation of being deep in my throat. Hugh's cock exploded, filling my mouth with rope after thick rope of his sweet-tasting cum. I swallow every drop his balls produce. As I let his cock slip from my mouth, I turned my attention back to Gwen and her lover's pulsing cock.

His hands moved to the back of her head, and he pressed her mouth roughly down on his huge cock. He was about to explode, and I knew his cum would be shot directly into her stomach.

In total amazement, I watched as he climaxed, filling her so completely that some of his thick cum shot out of her nose. It was a sight I'll remember forever.

We fucked for hours that night, and as I hugged Gwen goodnight, I whispered in her ear, "Teach me to deepthroat."

My training began the first Friday that Hugh remained out of town. "I'll call Paul," Gwen said when I called to let her know I was solo that night.

Gwen escorted me into the bedroom, and like the first night, Paul was reclined naked on the bed. But unlike that first time, his huge cock lay flaccid on his abdomen.

Paul's limp cock was the same size as Hugh's rock-hard cock, but the bulbous head and flaring corona looked enormous compared to what I had become accustomed to.

"I want you to feel his cock harden in your mouth," Gwen remarked.

I stripped and mounted him sixty-nine; his fingers slid up my thighs and between my labia. "Take him in your mouth, Penny," Gwen instructed.

As I lifted his flaccid cock from his flesh, I could feel the difference in both girth and weight to Hugh's cock.

"Slide your lips down to the base," Gwen said.

I stretched my lips open and forced his thick cock head inside, it slipped across my moist tongue, and as my nose touched his pubic hair, his cock head bumped against the tight ring of flesh at the back of my mouth.

"He's going to swell, and you'll gag," Gwen warned, and then added, "When you gag, don't lift off, just try to relax, and you'll learn to control your muscles.”

Swell was putting it mildly. Paul's cock reacted to my wet mouth and grew thicker and longer by the second. I gagged several times and tried my best not to lift my mouth, but the sheer force of his mammoth cock lifted my head, so my nose no longer touched his abdomen.

As I relaxed, my gag reflex lessened, and his cock head stretched my flesh until it finally popped through and into the smooth, moist flesh of my virgin throat. In an instant, my nose nuzzled against his body, and the widest part of his enormous cock sank deeper into my throat.

"Good job," Gwen remarked.

Paul stretched his hands to the back of my head and pressed my mouth down. I instantly imagined his cum load shooting from my nostrils, something I knew I wasn't ready for.

His cock, now totally erect, felt incredible in my mouth and throat, and as I sucked him the anticipation of tasting another man's cum grew.

Gwen must have realized that I wasn't prepared for a deepthroat cum shot because she suggested, "Cum on our faces,"

Paul gripped my hair and lifted my mouth off his big fat cock. I slipped off his body and joined Gwen kneeling before him as he rose from the bed fisting his throbbing cock.

She kissed me once and then remarked, "He shoots an awesome cum load."

I stared up at Paul's face watching for the telltale signs of an impending climax. His fist became a blur as he jacked his surging cock toward orgasm.

“I'm cumming," he exclaimed.

I opened my mouth, ready to accept his reward as he exploded, the first of many ropes of thick sticky cum sailing across the space between us and splashing on my forehead.

He twisted and coated Gwen's nose with his second shot, then turned back to me and pasted one eye shut. It was an incredible twin facial, leaving Gwen and I covered with his sticky cum load.

Once his climax began to subside, he pressed the head against my tongue, and I sucked the last few drops his balls provided.

My second taste of a man's juice was opposite from the first. Hugh's cum tastes sweet, creamy, a flavor I'd come to enjoy immensely, but Paul's sperm had an acidic taste and, while thick, lacked the creamy texture of my first lover.

Hugh and I continued seeing one another, but rather than setting up visits to Gwen's place, I began sneaking him into my bedroom. Our lovemaking was, at times, tender and, at other times, somewhat rough.

He'd often tell me how much he loved my tits, pussy, and mouth, but he never actually told me he loved me, something I'd expressed to him many times.

Somehow, I feared that our relationship would not be for life.

Those fears turned into reality a few months later; my menstrual cycle was like clockwork, so I grew very concerned when I missed my period. After fourteen days, I called Gwen. "I think I might be pregnant," I said.

"Oh shit, have you taken a test?" she replied.

"No, but my cycle is exact," I answered.

Gwen suggested that I stop at the pharmacy pick up a pregnancy test and come to her place.

An hour later, Gwen and I were together, and the results were positive.

"Who's the father?" she asked.

"It can't be anyone except Hugh," I answered.

She smiled and said, "You did fuck Paul."

"Yes, but I've had my period since we fucked," I responded.

"Have you told him?" she asked.

"No, and to be honest, I'm a little scared of what he'll say," I answered.

Gwen paused for a moment and then asked, "Have you considered an abortion?

"Oh god no, there's a living human in my womb, I could never end that life," I replied immediately.

Gwen gathered me in her arms, hugged me tightly, and said, "I'm here for you, Penny, no matter what happens."

"Thanks, Gwen. I knew I could count on you," I said.

Two days later, Hugh came into the store; I assumed he needed some supplies and wanted to have me pleasure him that evening. "Hugh, we need to talk," I said as he paid for his purchases.

"What about?" he asked.

"Can we go out back so we can talk in private?" I suggested.

Once we were alone behind the store, I took his hands in mine and bravely announced, "I'm pregnant."

"Oh fuck!" Hugh said and then asked, "Is it mine?"

"Yes, Hugh, I'm certain you're the father," I answered.

His reply floored me, "I can't deal with being a father."

"That's too bad," I answered.

"Do you want me to help pay for the abortion?" he asked.

"I've already decided I'm having the baby," I said.

He thought for a long moment before speaking, "If you do, you'll be on your own."

Tears flowed from my eyes as I replied, "I guess I'll be alone then."

In the weeks that passed, he proved that I was on my own. He no longer shopped at the general store for his supplies, and it became apparent that our relationship ended when I told him I was pregnant.

Gwen and I spent more and more time together, and when I started to show, she suggested I see a doctor, which I certainly agreed to.

My first appointment with Dr. Martin included an ultrasound. As she conducted the test, she asked me why the father wasn't with me.

"I'm on my own," I answered.

Dr. Martin shook her head and dropped a bombshell on me when she said, "You're having twins,"

"You have to be kidding," I answered.

"Nope, I see two babies in there," she replied.

Gwen remained my rock, "We can deal with twins,"

Six months later, I gave birth to a boy and a girl and named them Jack and Connie.

I struggled through the first ten years, raising twins and trying to juggle working part-time to support my family.

Even with the modest financial help I received from my father and Gwen's undying support, I had no time for any kind of personal life, even though I often fantasized about being with a man. I had to satisfy those fantasies using a variety of sex toys and pleasuring myself while in the shower with my fingers.

At the age of thirty-three, I was pretty much resigned to being alone until my children reached adulthood.

I recall one hot, humid Sunday afternoon when Gwen had stopped by to visit, and Jack and Connie were outside playing; we got into a conversation about sex.

"How long has it been since you've been with a man?" she asked.

I giggled and then replied, "I can't remember what that feels like."

She scooted closer to me on the sofa and said, "What about a woman?"

"I have no time for sex," I answered.

"You have to make time," Gwen said as she lightly placed her hand on my thigh. Her comment and the sensation of being touched sexually after so many years of celibacy made me realize I had to, as Gwen had said, Make time for sex.

That afternoon her delicate fingers brought me to climax several times, igniting a craving inside that I knew I'd have to satisfy.

Gwen had become not only my support with the kids, but occasionally she would take Jack and Connie on day trips providing me alone time to entertain men without the fear of my children knowing.

As they approached graduation and started looking at the possibility of college, I knew my meager income would never cover the cost of secondary education. Still, both had worked hard during high school and were rewarded with scholarships to attend college.

I'd have to work very hard to cover the costs above their grants but set my mind that I'd do whatever it took to cover their expenses.

I was lucky enough to land a relatively good-paying job working at a local business and was able to save a small nest egg that I'd hoped would see them through the four years of college.

Shortly after Jack and Connie graduated, my plans were derailed when my father suffered a massive heart attack and passed away. We were all devastated by his death, and it added to my concerns that his small financial support could no longer be counted on. His life insurance proceeds were only enough to cover the final expenses.

Once again, Gwen stepped up, helping the kids find part-time jobs and assuring me that she and I would give the twins what they needed one way or the other.

I remember how proud I was when in the fall of 2019, I'd somehow raised two beautiful children by myself, and they were now settled into their freshman year of college.

The excitement of being able to again enjoy a meaningful sex life at the age of forty-two crept into my mind.

I recall vividly surveying my naked form in the vanity mirror. My complexion somehow survived the years of stress, and while my body no longer had the sensual curves of youth, my 36DD tits remained my outstanding feature. Yes, my nipples showed the effects of breastfeeding two babies, but they remained as sensitive as they had been when I was twenty-two.

I was confident that I'd have no problem finding a partner to share my rekindled sensuality when dressed to impress.

I had a good-paying job, a lifelong friend in Gwen, and the attitude that my life was about to take a much-needed turn for the better.

Some things in life don't seem to affect you, especially when they occur so far away, so I paid little attention to the news reports of a virus being discovered in Wuhan, China.

But as the weeks passed and the possibility of Covid 19 spreading beyond the Chinese border, I started paying more attention to the nightly news. The Chinese government had locked down the Wuhan area, but that didn't seem to slow the spread.

The first reports of COVID-19 in Australia occurred in February 2020, and rumors spread that the Australian government was considering a nationwide quarantine.

My employer announced that those of us who could work from home might have to take that approach, but those who needed to be in the office might be looking at a short-term layoff.

My position required that I be at the office since I recorded production levels daily. Everyone seemed to think a month off could be dealt with, especially since we could all apply for unemployment benefits.

As news of the pandemic spreading worldwide became the focal point of every news program, it became evident that a month off was a best-case scenario.

My pay envelope for the end of March contained the dreaded pink slip, along with instructions on how to apply for benefits. When I got home, I called Gwen to let her know the bad news. She was working as an LPN at a local hospital and had been informed that she very well might be required to work double shifts for the foreseeable future.

“This pandemic is going to take a lot of lives," she mentioned.

I called Connie and Jack, who were already quarantined in their dorm rooms and were continuing their studies remotely, but both of them told me that might change at the end of the semester.

Weeks turned into months, and by the fall, it was becoming painfully obvious that my benefits would not cover my monthly expenses. If my kids were sent home, I'd fall further and further behind.

On one of her infrequent days off, Gwen stopped by for a visit. She looked worn out, a result of working double shifts for several months and witnessing the toll in lives taken by COVID-19.

"I'm so very worried," I said as we sat at my kitchen table sharing a cup of tea.

She had noticed the stack of unpaid bills in the middle of the table, and as usual, offered a suggestion. "I know a couple that might be able to help you out."

I was open to any ideas to see my way out and asked, "How could they help me?"

"They have run an agency for several years that provides women to a very discrete clientele," Gwen explained.

I have to admit that I was somewhat shocked by her description of this agency and bluntly asked, "So it's a whore house?"

Gwen smiled and then said, "Yes, technically, but they cater to upscale clients. Mostly businessmen, but also couples and single ladies."

"How do you know this couple?" I asked.

"Before Covid, I worked for them part-time," Gwen admitted.

I giggled before saying, "You were a part-time prostitute."

"Yes, and even working part-time, I still made very good money," she answered.

I liked the sound of making good money, but I knew that I'd be very nervous giving myself to men who were only interested in one thing. I've fantasized about being a street corner hooker, dressing in extremely revealing clothing and waiting under a light for a man to pull up and ask me to either fuck him or provide a quick blowjob for cash.

"Tell me more about how it works," I asked.

"Okay, Peter and Katie like to describe their place as a playhouse. There is a large family room where the girls wait for customers and about a half dozen private bedrooms spread throughout the house.

Each girl is assigned to a room, and once a client chooses her, she takes them to her room. Katie serves as the hostess and discusses prices with the customer before they make a choice. The price depends on what the client wants. Peter kind of oversees the entire operation providing protection for his employees and handling day-to-day maintenance of the whole place.

I never asked, but I think he also takes care of any problems with local law enforcement." Gwen explained.

"Sounds pretty much how I'd expect a whore house to operate," I said.

"It does, but a girl can make extra money if she wants to. If Katie agrees to provide vaginal sex, which by the way requires the use of condoms, for let's say five hundred the house takes fifty percent.

If you convince the client to add a blowjob, you get seventy-five percent of that fee," Gwen said.

"So, Gwen, how much did you make working part-time?" I asked.

"I usually worked weekends, Saturday nights, and Sunday afternoons. My best weekend was twenty-five hundred," she said.

"How many..." I began to ask, but Gwen already knew what I was asking and replied, "Ten or so."

I did a little mental math and decided that if I went this route and worked four days a week, I could clear at least thirty-five hundred, a sum that would resolve my current financial problems.

I still had some serious conflicts in my mind about becoming a prostitute. Morally I always felt that consensual sex was something to be shared with your lover. If I chose to start turning tricks, I'd have to ignore my morals and be willing to offer my body to the next client through the door.

The pressure of my current situation and the thought that this fucking pandemic could go on endlessly drove my decision.

"How do I meet Peter and Katie?" I asked.

"Give me a minute, I'll call Katie," Gwen responded as she stood up and walked outside.

While I waited, I thought about the possibilities. I don't exactly see myself as overly sexy, even though my body has all the right curves and my big tits would most certainly gain the attention of most men.

What I did have going for myself were my sexual talents. I'm not sure if this had anything to do with it, but forgoing sex for so long, my pussy had tightened, and being a forty-something mature woman with a tight cunt couldn't be a bad thing.

On top of that, my 36 DD tits would provide a delightful place for a man to bury his cock. One final talent is my proclivity for oral sex. Having a man slip his rock-hard cock between my lips and sucking him to orgasm provides him with immense pleasure and feeds my craving for the taste of a man's cum.

Gwen returned with a massive smile on her lips. "I spoke with Katie, explained your situation, and gave her a basic description of your looks. She's interested in meeting you; I took the liberty of setting up your initial interview with her and Peter Monday afternoon at one o'clock," she said.

"That's great, Gwen," I answered.

"When I first met them, the interview was quite lengthy, so expect to be there for three or four hours," she said.

"How do you think I should dress?" I asked.

Gwen laughed and then replied, "Penny, you're interviewing for a job as a prostitute. Isn't it obvious how you should dress?"

It was a silly question, and perhaps my next was just as foolish, "Did you fuck them when you interviewed?"

She laughed again and then said, "Why do you think it takes four hours to interview for a job with them? At first, Peter took me to a private bedroom and had me demonstrate my skills sucking cock.

After that, Katie came in and gave me a chance to pleasure her with my mouth, and then Peter joined us and determined how well I fucked. You're going to love the taste of his cum."

"Did you do anal?" I asked.

"I did whatever the client was willing to pay for," Gwen replied.

I giggled and then said, “You're such a slut."

"Why do you think the clients are willing to pay for sex? It's because they can have sex with a woman who acts like a slut. Keep that in mind; it'll add to your bottom line," she answered.

"I think I'm gonna like being a slut," I answered.

Gwen rose from her chair and, as she slipped on her coat, said, "I'm expecting a call from you Monday night."

"Count on it," I answered as I gave her a tight hug.