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A few days later, I received a note from the Countess with an invitation to visit the home and studio of Herr Heinrich Schaeffer, a very well-known dress designer.

"Miss Jorgenson, you are far more beautiful than Madam Pfeiffer told me. I have a dress in my inventory that I think will look stunning on you. Come with me."

I followed him. He showed me the most beautiful gown. The kind of gown a Queen might wear at her coronation. "Herr Schaeffer, it's lovely."

"Sadly, it's beauty will be lost next to yours."

"Thank you, Herr." I was flattered. Herr Schaeffer dressed some of the most beautiful women in Europe. Yes, even queens.

"Would you like to try it on?"

"I'd love to, but Herr Schaeffer, I know why I'm here; you know why I'm here. You do not need a silly ploy to get me to take my clothes off." I smiled as I undressed for him.

As a dress designer, I was certain he'd seen women in just their bra and panties. I didn't stop when I got to my bra and panties.

Naked, I found a chair, sat down with my legs spread. "Herr, I think this is what you want." I'd been looking forward to this since I received the Countess' note to meet Herr Schaeffer; meeting his tongue. It just had to be like the mayor's, right?

Herr Schaeffer did not hesitate to get on his knees. First, he just stared at my wooly pussy. "Lovely, Miss Jorgenson, just lovely. Then he started.

It was the most wonderful morning; the most wonderful afternoon.

I'd describe my day with Herr Schaeffer in detail but I'd run out of adjectives. My head was spinning and even though I didn't really know what was happening, my entire body shook with orgasm after orgasm.

As a reminder, it was only his tongue. His incredible tongue; a tongue which was insatiable; a tongue that had the stamina of a marathoner,

"Miss Jorgenson, many women have made their womanly charms available to me over the years, but I've never tasted a woman as scrumptious, and Miss Jorgenson, the Countess promised me a girl; instead, she sent me a woman. At my age, I prefer to sleep alone, but if you'd like to come back in the morning, I'd love to taste your delightful pussy again." It wasn't until after dark, that Herr Schaeffer sent me home in a taxi.

I blushed as I dressed. Herr Schaeffer called me a woman. I blushed even though for much of the day, he'd seen all of me. He'd seen me at my most vulnerable. It had been drilled into me by my mother since I was a child that I save my virginity for my husband, but I'm certain that if Herr Schaeffer had asked, he could have it.

I couldn't imagine not coming back tomorrow. I didn't sleep much, recalling every moment; everything Herr Schaeffer's tongue did to my pussy.

I didn't sleep much thinking what it might feel like when he took my virginity. Yes, I was planning on it. I was hoping. After what happened today, I was so ready.

He didn't. Take my virginity that is. Herr Schaeffer helped me out of my dress, guided me to his bed, knelt between my legs and told me, "Miss Jorgenson, I think your pussy is even more beautiful today." Then his tongue got busy; his tongue stayed busy.

At the time, I didn't know anything about fucking, but I'm certain I fucked his tongue. Was I disappointed that I went home with my virginity still intact? Not at all, I discovered the joy of orgasms. I concluded that if men like Mayor Baumeister and Herr Schaeffer and even Countess von Pfeiffer thought I had the best tasting pussy who was I to argue?

I had contemplated going back to Kansas for my university work. After my ‘dates' with the mayor and with Herr Schaeffer and a promise from Madam von Pfeiffer to make more men available to me, the thought of returning to the United States was erased from my mind.

Every month through my university years, the Countess provided me with a man; specifically, a man's tongue to please my pussy. There were local bigshots; famous and important men from throughout the country; powerful and wealthy men from nearby Austria and Switzerland. A few times a year men from France, Spain or Italy flew in, according to Madam Pfeiffer just for the privilege of tasting my pussy.

You're probably not surprised that to my mother's great disappointment, if she even knew, my virginity was no longer awaiting my husband-to-be.

The man responsible was a Russian, Nicholas Lebedev. To be fair, I was just as responsible. When the Countess offered my pussy to him, he sent his plane for me. I spent a week at his dacha on the Black Sea.

You have to understand to that point, all the men who I'd been with just used their tongues. None even took off their pants. I was more than content and none of those men pressured me for anything more. As the Countess told me more than once, "Miss Jorgenson, his manhood no longer works, but his tongue, oh my, his tongue."

The week with Nicholas started out like that, but he was different. I've told you that many of these men had magical tongues that made me see the sun, the moon and the stars. Sixty-three-year-old Nicholas Lebedev's cock did work, and after his tongue did those magical things, "Miss Jorgenson, let me show you what eating your pussy does to me."

It may seem strange, but I'd never seen one. I mean a real one. My Art History books had pictures and sketches of lots of penises.

When Nicholas dropped his pants, I was in awe. It had been years since I left Kansas and my stallion. I thought Nicholas' rivalled my stallion. I stared and stared. "Mr. Lebedev, you have the most incredible cock I've ever seen." He didn't have to know. I continued to stare.

"Miss Jorgenson, it's eating your delectable pussy that is responsible for this." He was standing on the bed over me, his hands on his hips, that cock pointing at the ceiling." He was so proud of it; as he should have been.

How was I to know that men his age usually didn't get like that. I mean that hard. I knew that most of the men Countess Katrina sent me to couldn't get even the semblance of an erection.

Nothing beyond that happened that day, but a day or two later, Nicholas insisted that I had to see it again. I was just as in awe.

To be fair what happened next was all on me. I sat up, "Nicholas, I'm sure Madam von Pfeiffer told you I'm a virgin. Nicholas, I don't want to be a virgin anymore."

He'd been eating me for three days with his magnificent tongue. I'd had so, so, so many orgasms, but I needed more. I wasn't sure how it would happen, but I wanted Nicholas to be the one. I was sure he knew how to make it happen.

He did, but he didn't. Not right away.

To refresh your memory, I was now twenty-two and at Madam Pfeiffer's Finishing School's University. The world had changed. I'd always resisted acting lady-like. That's why I was sent to the school in the first place. The school tried, and they had some success.

What I'm trying to say is that over the next few weeks, Nicholas did not take my virginity. In the end he did, but first he made me his cocksucker. That's the unlady-like word I used and used all the time.

As I begged for his cock, Nicholas convinced me that first my mouth should lose its virginity. In the euphoric state I was in from three days of orgasmic bliss. I did not object. I would have done anything for him. If he asked me to ride my horse naked through the streets of Moscow in winter. I would not have objected.

I loved it; loved the feeling of his manhood in my mouth. "Like that, Jen. You're doing good. You'll be a wonderful cocksucker with practice." I wanted to be Nicholas' wonderful cocksucker.

For example, a few days after I had his cock in my mouth the first time, we were in bed, "Nicholas, let me be your cocksucker this morning. I love sucking your magnificent cock."

Of course, he let me. I spent the morning blowing him. Nicholas was good about giving me instructions on how he liked it.

I have to say, the first time he spurted in my mouth, I fell in love. Fell in love with his taste; fell in love with the very idea of what I'd done to him and for him.

For the next week, all I did was suck. It helped that Nicholas insisted, "Jen, nothing makes my cock harder than the taste of your delicious pussy.

A week later, "Nicholas, you need to take my virginity. I don't want to leave your bed this morning as a virgin."

"Jen," he laughed, "just like when you suck my cock, the way it gets hard is eating you. I promise, I will, but first. . ."

He went down on me. I came and came again, and then I begged him to give it to me. My exact words were. "Come on, Nicholas, give me that big cock. My pussy is so ready for it." I looked him in the eyes as I got on my back, "fuck me, I need you to fuck me."

Even though Nicholas had among the biggest cock I'd ever had in my mouth, there was no pain when his cock penetrated my pussy. I suppose my mother was right about riding bareback with a dress on. There was no blood, only bliss.

From then on, after men insisted on eating my, as Countess Katrina described, "delicious pussy," I insisted on getting fucked, but first I couldn't help myself. Nicholas Lebedev had made me his cocksucker, now I was every man's cocksucker.

When I returned to Vaduz, the Countess was waiting for me at the train station. "How could you? Miss Jorgenson, I am so disappointed. I expected you'd be a virgin on your wedding night; your mother will be furious at me for allowing this to happen."

Of course, there was no way to undo what I had been done. The Countess took me right from the airport to her home. "Miss Jorgenson, you will not have the pleasure of a man's tongue or cock for the rest of your time here. However, you will make your tongue available to my pussy. On your knees."

For the next few months, I was Madam von Pfeiffer's personal pussy eater, just as I had been Nicholas Lebedev's personal cocksucker. I knew I was being punished. I wouldn't share this with anyone, but I was thrilled when I received a message from the headmistress that she needed to see me. Needed to see the top of my head.

She didn't say anything; she didn't need to, but more than a few times she summoned me after she'd been with a man. I knew she'd fucked him. I was there to clean up what he'd deposited in her pussy. The taste was indescribably delicious.

Madam von Pfeiffer went back on her word. One day the Countess called a man while I was in her home; on my knees with my tongue servicing her pussy. "Signore Catalano, you have not visited Vaduz in years, I have the most delightful young girl who your magnificent tongue will drive crazy."

I couldn't hear his end of the conversation.

"Oh, Enrico, I haven't forgotten. Perhaps when you're done pleasing this young girl, you could find it in your heart to make me squeal. And I assure you Federico, once you've tasted this girl, you'll want to thank me. Thank me like only you know how."

Enrico Catalano was seventy-two-years-old. I was twenty-one. You might think "EEEEEWWWWW." You'd change you're mined if you heard Enrico whisper in your ear in Italian, "Signora Jen, I've tasted some of the finest pussy in all the world. Queens, princesses, famous actresses, but I've never tasted a sweeter pussy. Grazie, signora, grazie." Then he started again. He was insatiable like Nicholas Ledbedev but so much more talented.

"Signora Jen, please come to Italy, I will be your personal pussy pleaser. My tongue was made to serve your delicious pussy." All in Italian. My pussy gushed. Enrico licked it. I gushed some more; Enrico licked it.

I didn't go to Italy, although I was tempted. Who wouldn't be?

After graduating from Madam Pfeiffer's Finishing School for Girls' university, I was uncertain what to do. Going back to Kansas was out of the question. The Countess made me an offer.

I became the unofficial ambassador for the school throughout Europe. I was a fund raiser. "Monsieur Maneau, I've never had the pleasure of a more gifted tongue nor a cock so big. I'm sure the Countess will appreciate your generous contribution."

I rejoiced while I was on my back or my knees pleasing wealthy donors for the good of the school. I could not thank the Countess enough when one of those wealthy patrons was on his knees with his face in my wooly bush.

I'm telling you this now because after Madam Katerina von Pfeiffer died, her daughter became the headmistress. She called herself Countess Marlena von Pfeiffer. Ten years later, she was arrested and my name was in the records the authorities discovered.

Why was she arrested?

It seems that going back to the founding of the finishing school, the Countesses von Pfeiffer had been paid by wealthy, powerful men to provide them with young girls. To be exact young pussy like mine. These men, at their age could no longer get an erection, but found sexually satisfaction in cunnilingus.

As for me, Enrico Catalano who as you know had the best tongue ever. No really, of all the men, and there were too many to count, his tongue was insatiable, I never . . .

Anyhow one day out of nowhere Enrico called me. "You weren't easy to track down, Signora Jen. The reason I'm calling . . ."

"Tell me, Enrico, tell me in Italian how much you loved my pussy. Say it in Italian. It sounds so romantic in Italian."

He did, but, "Miss Jorgenson, I'm much too old now, but I have a grandson who I think would be perfect for you. You're not married, are you?"

"No, no. As you know, I live in London. I haven't dated like that in years. Enrico, are you sure I can't entice you?" I giggled. "Thinking of your magnificent tongue has my pussy juicy. It's waiting for you Enrico."

"Then Giancarlo will find you delightful. Shall I send my private plane?"

Did you know that at one time Italy had kings? Not Roman Emperors like Julius Caesar. Real, honest-to-goodness kings. If monarchy ever returned to Italy, Giancarlo would be third inline for the crown.

When I met Giancarlo at his private villa on the Amalfi Coast, I was enthralled and made a fateful decision. "Giancarlo, I know why I'm here; you know why I'm here. I'm sure your grandfather was specific and colorfully explained what I can do for a man and what I will allow a man to do to me, but it's not going to happen, not today, not tomorrow, not next week."

"Signora Jen, why not? I was so looking forward to making love to you, especially with my tongue. My grandfather told me you have the sweetest pussy in the whole world."

I blushed. I could never resist the tongues of the men the Countess von Pfeiffer introduced me to. Today I did. "Giancarlo, the only way I will ever allow a man to do to me what you expect to do is if I'm married to him."

For a minute; almost a full minute, he looked at me. Looked at me up and down. I'd just flown from London to Naples; I was a sight; I could use a shower.

"Excuse me, Signora have a seat. I will have someone bring you something cool to drink."

A maid did bring me a refreshing drink, and ten minutes later, Giancarlo was back. "I have good news for you, Signora Jen, the priest will be arriving in about two hours, you probably would like to bathe and change into something more appropriate."

"What? Why? Priest?"

"Well, Signora, if you're unwilling to sleep with me unless we're married, then we're going to need a priest," he smiled. He started walking out, "I have to get ready, too. The maid will take you to your room, and start a bath for you."

Giancarlo, via his grandfather, knew exactly what and who I was. He still wanted to marry me.

Our wedding night was like none you can imagine.

I was no blushing bride. There was no need for a negligee, and certainly not a white one. I came to our marriage bed naked. Giancarlo soon followed, also naked.

I gasped. As you know, I was familiar with cocks: long, fat cocks. My new husband's was the longest and fattest I'd seen and he wasn't even excited yet. "Giancarlo, you are a beautiful man, and your cock is . . ."

I didn't finish the sentence. Like I said, Giancarlo knew all about me. I put that gorgeous cock in my mouth.

That's how our wedding night started. Over the next hour or more, my tongue explored every inch of his glorious cock: from under his balls, almost to his asshole, all the way to his cockhead, and even the inside of his foreskin. My lips, through all the years of practice, slowly slid down his shaft. He was big, but I swallowed it all.

I'd learned from Nicholas Lebedev how to make a man cum; and make a man NOT cum. You remember Nicholas; the man who introduced me to fellatio, made me his cocksucker and took my virginity.

I suppose ‘took' is unfair to Nicholas. It was more like I gave him my virginity. That's how my lips, mouth, tongue and hands familiarized themselves with my husband's manhood.

Reading other stories on this site, I know there are very few stories involving marital sex unless there is something like infidelity or threesomes involved.

I won't bore you, but I will say that just as I did Giancarlo's cock, his tongue did similar things to my pussy. Only better; much better. Words like glutton, virtuoso, marathon man come to mind. Kids today use the word G.O.A.T. My husband was the GOAT of pussy eaters.

"Giancarlo, tell me how delicious my pussy is; tell me in Italian. It sounds so much more romantic in Italian."

I swooned and my pussy gushed. Gushed every time he told me how beautiful and sweet my pussy was in Italian. As for the fucking. Early on, we tried every way imaginable; some I don't think even the Kama Sutra illustrated. It may sound monotonous to say that I liked it best when Giancarlo was on top of pounding away at my pussy with that monstrous cock.

I liked it best when he was on top, except when I was on top and bounced on that majestic cock. Giancarlo's hands were as delicate as a surgeon's as they played with my tits. His fingers and lips on my nipples had my pussy dripping even before I started to bounce.

If you asked Giancarlo, I'm sure he'd say that his favorite position was on his knees with his face in my wooly pussy. When he was in that position, I had the biggest smile on my face. He'd mumble in Italian and it wasn't too long before I was in orgasmic bliss.

Our honeymoon lasted twenty-five years. There were very few days when we weren't fucking, sucking or eating.

Needless to say, we lived happily ever after.

THE END

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