Orgy of Orgies: Lipstick Lesbians with the Fantastic Fags

As a phone sex operator, I have a lot of fun, but the job has had some interesting inluences on my life. Mostly, because most of the men are shallow and looking only for wham-bang-thank-you-maam orgasms by jerk-off, I have become more and more secure in declaring myself to be a total, total lesbian. For my own orgasms, I need a lot more than a quick jerk-off.

I'm only 22 years old but feel much more sexually wise after 4 years vending phone sex. Actually, I started the job to learn more about sexuality, and a girlfriend who was already an operator helped me make the connection, so to speak, to the phone sex company here in Boston. Although we do the phone sex from our homes, most of us at the service have got to know each other pretty well -- sometimes meeting when the caller wants 2-girl calls, sometimes through mutual friends, and often when bumping into each other when we pick up our checks on payday every other Friday. Then we usually do a happy hour chat and share the incredible stories our job encounters.

For the last year, one of the other operators has been my special lover, although we both like to organize all-weekend all-girl orgy "events." My lover's name is Gretchen, and I have a sense that we both feel we were destined for each other. We live together in a relationship that is very much a marriage. In fact, I am quite sure that should we discover a state or a country that would legalize a ceremony, we actually would get married some time.

Let me jump ahead just a bit (I'll return quickly though) to say that I have found one special man (who has a lot of cool special male friends) through the phone service. He is a youngish, super-intelligent black man who teaches philosophy at Boston College. We have discovered that although we differ in gender that we live and believe in almost identical lifestyles. I'm a sensitive, and smart, I think, lez, and he is a sensitive and ultra-smart fag. His name is Keever, and I wanted to let you readers know that the sexiest part of this story will involve Keever and his great fag friends, and me and my great lez lovers.

Back to the lesbian background: Although Gretchen is not anywhere near my first lesbian lover, she is the most special, and the way we began our romance was intense and intuitive. We're about the same age. She's a racial mix of black and white that has worked so well on her that she is the sexiest woman I ever saw; she's especially a turn-on because she grew up in the Carribean and has the sweetest Rasta accent -- sexy and cultured, just her voice makes me wet and longing. By contrast, I am a mix of Irish and Scott, fortunate to have the delicate femine features that bless most Irish girls, but with firey red hair that must be from the Scottish genes. Physically, we could be bookends (except for the colorations of course, but that contrast makes us such a sexy couple, to us, and so we have been told so many times). We are both work-out freaks. Six-pack abs, firm and tight in every way. We're both long-legged 5-foot 5-inches tall, about 115 pounds, long satiny curly hair on top, but now waxed smooth as the rest of our silky skin at pussy and ass.

Our first tryst began at a happy hour party 18 months ago. We had been going to the same gym for 6 months but never talked, but we both have confessed now that we often secretly were checking each other out. I had wondered if it was pure coincidence that we had almost always headed to the showers and steam room at the same time over and over again. I was enthralled at her color, her form, and especially loved to listen in to her sexy voice in conversation, but I was much too shy to make a move on someone who was so attractive she had me stunned almost speachless.

Much to our surprise, we bumped into each other while picking up pay checks at the phone service. It was a beautiful Friday afternoon in June in Boston. "Haven't I seen you before," Gretchen asked me as we sat in the owner's living room while waiting for her to write out our checks. I thought I had a lot of special callers and my checks were always about the biggest of the girls I had bumped into so far, but Gretchen's call requests must have been almost double mine based on her 2-week cut. I answered that I work out at the "Energize" aerobics and excercise club for women and that "yes, we must have seen each other there before." What she said then is just fuzzy to me now, as it was then, because I was barely able to stand because of the thrill of actually talking to this woman I had been secretly lusting for all this time.

I do remember that Gretchen asked me to join her and many of the other phone sex girls for happy hour and that she would love to buy me dinner to celebrate her especially big pay check. I tried to act casual, but I was glad that I had really pampered myself the morning and early afternoon of that special Friday, so I was at my best during this heavenly encounter. I did my Energize aerobics, my crunches, and my weights earlier than usual, so I hadn't run into Gretchen during our usual afternoon time. Then I had my hair, face, nails, and pubic-waxing done at the coolest women's spa in town. It is expensive and exclusive, and the older woman owner works her beautification art in her lovely and expansive home (along with talented young, and always scantily clad young women -- they claim they need loose clothing because they move around so much in their work). This day she was excited to offer a new massage service that she had set up in her new pool house in the garden.

The onwer/beautician was a good friend, although I had to carefully reject the passes she made on me the first few times I employed her services. She is a nice older woman, late forties, divorced but part of the Beacon Hill old money set. I did not find her unattractive, but since I loved her job talent so much, I did not want to get into something that would only be short term and then make me feel uncomfortable to return after the affair had passed. She was super cool about it, even to the point of setting me up for dates with some of her workers with whom she though we'd make good partners. She was very frank with conversations, telling me that she wanted a full-time, full-commitment lover, but that she realized that since I was so young that I should have as many unattached flings as I could get because she wished she had done so herself at my age instead of fighting the forces trying to deny her desire for women.

She introduced me to the worker who she had sent to train for massage. It was a girl who had done my nails there before -- and also the pubic wax. She was sexy and one of the women the owner had me date before. We had quite a few no-strings no-clothes encounters and enjoyed each other physically in an intense way. The first time I got the pubic wax, I was really nervous. It is done in a private room where you disrobe and sit on a plush, raised chair that lets the operator work on you while sitting between your legs. To make me comfortable, and to give a quick flash for her own excitement I'm sure, the owner got up on the chair to show me how to sit. Then she said that she herself needed a quick trim and that she would show me more precisely how to sit as she removed her white robe to show only a white bra holding huge firm breasts (like I said, she is well-preserved). She had no panties on and there was just a light stuble around her pussy, which the operator quickly shaved away (she said that waxing is better but that shaving works best for her).

She said for me, she recommends waxing. She said she had waxed the woman operator who just shaved her recently and it still feels great. As she left, she told the operator to show me how effective the waxing is. She winked as she closed the door on us. The operator's name is Cybil, and she was happy to take off her white robe to show a similar bra-only fantastic female underneath. She sat on the special chair and ran her fingers over her pussy, trying to be cool and professional. She lifted herself to show that she was perfectly hairless and smooth in all places. She said that feeling the smoothness with one's hands is not as good as using the more sensitive skin of a woman's cheek because that's how she checks her work, by rubbing her cheek along the pussies she waxes to be sure they are perfect. When she asked me to rub my cheek on her pussy to check the feel, my already weak knees almost collapsed, and I actually had to hold myself against her body as I checked the undescribably-wonderful feel and to steady my nerves.