Releasing the Slut Within

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INTRODUCTION

Walsh and Toss Haar were average parents of lively teenagers. They were late paying bills, hated having their dentist extract money from them so effortlessly, had countless affairs, bickered daily and wanted the best for their kids who were expected to perform right up there. Just where was never defined.

Roughly like average people, Walsh owned five hairdressing salons and spent most of his day counting money while Toss (Tosland) tattooed butts of women erotically, charging enough for her decorative artwork that would leave most dentists frothing enviously.

So the twins Orion and Starre (her parents’ misspelling of Star and never corrected) went through college, just like everyone else’s kids do, gaining top marks and being very popular.

We enter the story a month after graduation…

CHAPTER 1

Red-faced and tired, Orion Haar tossed the tip-filled sheath into the corner of the hotel room and sighed, watching Starre Haar ram a towel between her creamy and gloriously contoured thighs. Orion looked and thought he might never see their like again while Starre, eyeing his nuts, thought similarly.

Two hours later Starre, with her new degree in communications and not yet set on a career, waved goodbye to her twin as he entered security at JFK. She walked out to line up for a cab when a black limo stopped just ahead of her. The driver in a black suit and chauffeur’s cap stepped out and called, “Excuse me. Miss Jacqui would like a word as we drive you to Fifth.”

Walsh Starre’s dad had warned her of the dangers of being accosted in New York while her mom had been less edgy, and said it was okay to take a calculated risk occasionally as one never knew what might come up.

Starre thought this was only her second day in New York, rather early to be taking a calculated risk. She was about to turn and walk on when the dime dropped: Miss Jacqui O’Hara, president of Lovely Girls Inc, was based on Fifth Avenue.

The 23-year-old didn’t reply. Instead she checked her lipstick, ran a comb through her hair and only then did she walk to the opened rear door of the limo, watched by two airport cops too smart to hurry the limo along, having noted the front plate, Miss J.

“Please enter lovely young woman – until now I had only noticed your derriere,” said the faded and now over-weight director of the famous international model agency, carrying her name. Miss Jacqui’s mother came from a family of wealthy Bostonians while her father, a street waif in Argentina when ‘discovered’ at the aged of twelve, became a celebrated tango dancer.

“Do you know who I am?”

“Yes Miss.”

“Call me Miss J. Are you interested in being assessed for training as a model?”

Starre thought hell no but thought of the awkward walk back for a cab. The plush interior smelt a little of lilac and the cab would smell of stale body sweat, perhaps. “Yes, I could be interested.”

“What’s your name dear?”

“Starre Haar.”

“No honey, your real name.”

Starre said that’s what her parents Walsh and Toss Haar named her at birth.

Miss J looked at her intently and rubbed under her hip. “Ohmigod, is that the Toss Haar who cut the face and hat of a pirate captain on my ass some fifteen years ago?”

“I wouldn’t know but we have always lived in a former church near Hopewell Junction in Dutchess County.”

“And your mother’s studio was a former railway carriage, beautiful decorated?”

“Yes, that’s it. I would have been around eight then.”

Miss J furrowed her forehead. “I seem to remember two blonde kids with very light blue eyes – yes, got it, cute twins.”

“Orion and I are still cute Miss J.”

“Okay, I believe that. Now to work. Tell me, what was the Trinity?”

“Actually it still exists. It’s the Christian doctrine…”

“Excuse me dear, I meant in relations to modeling.”

“Oh, the name loosely applied to three supermodels at the time, Linda Evangelista, Naomi Campbell and Christy Turlington. I tend to read top women’s magazines and watch TV apparel and women’s chat shows.”

“Well that’s very encouraging but you know the starting age for catwalk models is now down to sixteen-seventeen?”

“Oh yes, I watched that documentary made on your career that first appeared three years ago. I figured you watched me walk and an idea sprang into your mind – probably stockings, dress lengths, the turn for modeling new season’s coats or more probably the walk-off woman in TV ads.”

Miss J smiled and stared. “You are almost beautiful as well.”

“As well as what?”

“Having a great ass, sensational legs and, from what I have just heard, you are also very astute. Do you do drugs?”

“No.”

“Alcohol?”

“Never more than moderately.”

Miss J pulled out a notebook. “Please tell me about yourself dear including any physical defects you know about including body scars and tats.”

* * *

A month into the training program Starre said to Miss J’s personal assistant Belene that she was finding the demands sincan escort bayan being made on her too difficult and she wanted out.

“Miss J has been waiting for you to come to that conclusion. We believe modeling is not for you. May I make an appointment for you to see her – she’ll want personally to say goodbye.”

“Yes, of course.”

Two days later after quitting Starre lunched with Miss J in her office.

“You have potential if steered in the right direction but it will be heavy going.”

“No thanks Miss J. I’ve given it my best shot but have ended up struggling. I have no wish to struggle in life.”

“Well said, I wish I’d had your brains.”

Starre saying nothing, thinking at sixty-one Miss J was a multi-millionaire but then thought she probably could have married one at the age of perhaps twenty-two when making a name for herself as a model.

“Darling, would you give me the change of making some good money out of you. It will take two week’s max.”

“Yes of course providing it’s legal and I get a discount in buying my way out of my broken contract?”

“Your contract was shredded this morning Starre.”

“Oh.”

Two days later Starre at last struck lucky at an advertising agency, the third to assess her. She began an immediate video test – walking into a room and walking out again. The young director showed her the result and said he thought they could do something with her. Unsuccessfully trying to hide his wolfish grin he said, “Perhaps we would draft contact details in bed?”

Starre was not so green to fall for that one. But she went with him anyway because he was sweet and looked the kind of guy to have no hair on his chest.

Kevin spilled a breast from the bra into his hand and appeared to have found one of Atalanta’s Golden Apples. He kissed it and licked it lasciviously while Starre slowly undressed. Kevin’s attention then turned to the Golden Peach and his efforts to enter his head through that portal sent Starre into waves of release. He then launched his engorged cock into the highly sensitive channel looking for something – perhaps buried treasure but they then lost the plot and began thrusting and counter-thrusting until both collapsed, exhausted.

They never got around to discuss details but Kevin’s boss invited Starre in next day and while lunching in his office in a sixty-nine position he paused long enough to say the contract was ready for her to sign and immediately she did that the client’s agent would sign another contract engaging her for six months at $50,000 a month.

* * *

Orion Haar arrived in London to stay with Ritchie West. Ritchie and Orion’s father had gone through high school and college together. Ritchie was director of a theatre company and had married only recently after his second divorce to Isobel, a wealthy young woman.

A maid greeted Orion’s arrival at the huge home with its lawn running down to the River Thames.

“Ma’am is having a bath sir.”

A voice rang out lyrically, “Oh bring our handsome young guest to my arms my listless wench.”

“Ma’am is in one of her lighter moods,” whispered the maid with orange hair mostly hidden under a cap and who was troubled by anorexia and skin eruptions. “She’s joking.”

“Hurry Eli, bring him to me.”

“Oh God, she’s not joking. Follow me sir.”

Orion was left in the bathroom and looked down in disappointment. Apart from her head and neck, Isobel was covered by a visually whiteout of bubbles. But all was not lost.

“Orion – we received email images but God, they don’t do you justice. You are gorgeous. Undress and climb in. I’m so happy to have a guy of my own age around here.” She called out, Eli a gin on the rocks for me and…”

“Lager beer.”

“…and lager beer also a bathrobe for our traveler.”

Orion knew the British had a reputation for being eccentric, but what was this called?

Blushing he undressed and heard hisses that he hoped were expressions of, um, glee.

“Here allow me to help you get in,” Isobel said, cupping his cock and balls. “Sit down the opposite end to me but a kiss and a wee play with my breasts first.”

Eli came in with the drinks and appeared indifferent, looking at Orion as if he had every right to be in the bath with her mistress. When she left Isobel gave Orion a foot job while they sipped their drinks and she laughed delightedly as he raised his erection tip out of the water to shoot the load, some reaching her face.

They then spent the rest of the day in bed. It was a culture thing really, according to Isobel. She said in the main the English didn’t even know what anal referred to in the sexual environment apart from enemas. So after a lovely missionary that lasted almost an hour she invited the American to ass fuck her, saying she believed all Americans were experts. But before that commenced Eli was sent to the village to buy the appropriate lube.

Isobel provided to be an ass virgin and a lively pupil. She took so long accommodating each half-inch eryaman escort and screamed and gurgled so much that only by extreme concentration was Orion able to avoid a series of premature ejaculations.

“God, how big are you?”

He lied, “Fourteen inches.”

She convulsed into laughter and floated into a release than left her panting so during the diversion he managed to slip another inch or so in. They finally got underway but it was a bit uncomfortable for her so she squeezed, he came, and that ended the lesson.

“We must do this twice a day until it comes naturally for me,’ she said, kissing him and saying they must shower and dress to be prepared for Ritchie’s arrival home.

“Will he want sex with you before we dine?”

She laughed and said, “Oh God no. He’d run a mile if I flashed pussy at him. He is gay. He married me to keep up appearances and what I got out of the nuptials was access to other women’s husbands. Any woman having an affair with an unmarried man is frowned upon in society in London.

“Ritchie will be a little stiff upper lip with you for a couple of days but once he’s comfortable about the ease in which you and I related he’ll suggest you sleep with me.”

“I can’t believe this.”

“Why not? It’s really couth behavior – he being generous to his young guest. Besides Ritchie and I sleep four bedroom suites apart.”

Over coming months Orion went to bed with Isobel and her friend Joanna, Isobel and Maureen, Isobel and Laura and her mother Hannah, Isobel and Janice and Isobel and Lady Helen. It was that last threesome that ended Orion’s happy but somewhat tiring induction to English society. Lady Helen induced him to live with her and her ailing and much older husband to become Geoffrey’s personal assistant to help him out of the car and up the steps to the elevators and to keep him awake during important meetings. Only then did Lady Helen learn Orion had a business degree so arranged for him to complete a masters in business administration. Between their fucking and his duties with Lord Hoskins, Helen assisted Orion with his academic studies. He studied online through the University of Wales and took three years to graduate. Orion and Helen believed the night he graduated what the night 33-year-old Helen became pregnant.

Pregnancy came at an awkward time. Sir Geoffrey wasn’t that close to death to avoid social embarrassment but a few weeks later, with Orion and Lady Helen still with their secret intact, Lord Hoskins suffered a massive coronary while attending the funeral of a former mistress and died six hours later.

Orion stayed at Helen’s side throughout and she called a newspaper editor and the news spread throughout the business media that young American Orion Haar was to become the late Lord Hoskins successor as chairman of Hoskins Food Supplies, Pty. The board was astonished and called a special meeting to denounce the rumor but when the recommendation was put to vote Lady Helen had sufficient proxies held in her own name, in her late husband’s name as his sole beneficiary and proxies from two absentee directors to defeat the move. Orion was called into the boardroom after being voted in as chairman, the second youngest person to head a multinational company in all of Europe.

Starre went to London for four days to stay with Lady Helen and Orion (Helen retained her title for life). Starre couldn’t believe how far Orion had advanced in four years. The engagement of Lady Helen and Orion was announced a few weeks later and a month later she began telling friends she was pregnant.

CHAPTER 2

Back in New York Starre took Miss J to lunch and whined about her lack of real career direction.

“You are doing exceedingly well as a TV and print media model, earning top-shelf fees,” said Starre’s mentor. “The truth is if you want to drive your life with really big money and quickly you have two options: steal the money or marry someone really wealthy.”

They talked that through and as Miss J was stepping into her limo she kissed Starre and said, “Remember this honey: a millionaire is chicken shit.”

That encounter left Starre with a lot to think about. The advertisement in which she walked into a stuffy gentleman’s club wearing a white shirt and long black waiter’s apron carrying a tray full of Heard’s Ready to Pour Aperitif’s with the departing shot of her from the back showing her dressed only in panties, garter belt and black stockings had already earned her $272,000 in modeling frees and her tiny percentage from royalties. Her face now appeared in magazines with syndicated captions or full interviews and columnists and fashion writers commonly referred to Starre Haar’s incredible legs and butt (or backside in European publications).

The time came when Starre’s exclusive contract with Heard’s was due to expire soon. She decided not to renew and hired a woman as her agent to find her a new opportunity.

Starre walked into the office of Hilda Hope of Hilda Hope International, and Hilda pulled a cheroot etimesgut bayan escort from her mouth, puffed and said, “Stockings. Hi Starre.”

“Oh sorry,” Starre said, looking down at her black near-sheer stockings. “A ladder or bird shit?”

Hilda just laughed.

“Oh God, you smoke. Mind if I sit way over here.”

Starre looked at the fat bitch whose stomach was vibrating in laughter and thought what was she doing here. She then made the stupidest statement of her life: “I’m leaving.”

Fortunately for Starre Hilda reacted too fast for her. As Starre stood to leave Hilda yelled, subbing out her slender cigar, “Betty, lock my door!”

Starre heard the door lock and snarled at Hilda, “How dare you.”

“Young lady, you are going nowhere until you place those million dollar legs in my care under contract.”

Two weeks later Hilda delivered Starre into a luxury hotel suite. Hilda was asked to stay in the reception room while a woman led Starre away. After Starre had changed into a supplied pair of stockings she was lead into a noisy office filled with people.

“Ah, Miss Haar, how poetic that sounds,” said the handsome Frenchman aged about forty. “We have flown over especially to see you and are not expecting to be disappointed. My name is Arnaud LaBelle and I deputize for my father who at the last moment could not come, much to his disappointment. However if we make a contract you will come to Paris for the signing, and your agent of course who is also a licensed attorney.”

“Welcome to America Mr LaBelle. “I too am not expecting disappointment.”

The LaBelle range of high quality stockings was little known in America but sold hugely throughout Europe and into Russia.

“Up on to the desk Miss Haar, keep your shoes on.”

“Good, now removed your skirt.”

Starre didn’t hesitate, having had modeling training. But she went slowly, staring at the client.

“Oh excellent, this is good. Oh it’s stupendous. Just look at our Go-Gigi stockings.”

People clapped, cameras flashed and Starre felt delighted. Arnaud stepped over and ran his hand up her inside leg from the ankle. He kept going beyond the knee and looked at her intently.

Starre had to make an instant decision, a commercial decision. She calmly opened her legs and felt Arnaud’s fingers dip under her thong and enter her.

Still looking at her Arnaud withdrew his fingers and sucked them. Some of the women present gasped.

“Please leave the room everybody.”

Everybody hurried out as Arnaud removed his jacket and tie.

“Is my behavior un-America?”

“I would think not.”

“Will you acquiesce?”

“Yes, Starre said, kicking off her shoes and prepared to sprawl over the desk.

“Why?”

“It’s a commercial decision. As you are aware, I don’t know you Mr LaBelle.”

He grinned and unbuckled.

Starre grunted as his six-inch or so but very fat dick slammed into her. She though because she was not French he had acted arrogantly, not preparing her.

She held back as he huffed, “Are you almost ready.”

She drawled no and said he was good.

“When?” he panted.

“Soon.”

Red-faced and gasping he asked how soon.

“Just pull out and shoot over me.”

“No, I’m a gentleman. Ladies first.”

She waited until the guy was almost in a state of collapse and then gushed, making rather a lot of extra noise.

He shouted Long Live France, hauled off his condom and splat a couple of streaks over her belly. Christ, thought Starre. He should see what her brother could do.

“Oh victory, how sweet,” she called and almost out on his feet Arnaud said, “You are one hell of a woman Starre Haar.”

Hilda and Starre went to Paris for two days for the signing of the contract where Arnaud fucked Starre six more times and thought he was improving because each time it was over in twenty minutes instead of a repeat of their form epic of almost seventy minutes.

The Americans then went to London to stay two nights with Lady Helen and Orion. They traveled from Paris by train via the undersea tunnel and were at London’s St Pancreas Station inside two hours where the twins had a joyful reunion. They went as a foursome to a theatre on the first night and to late dinner. Next day Hilda went out all day and evening to meet old friends. Helen, Orion and Starre went to bed together several times but they still managed to show Starre around the city and to Orion’s delight the two women got on like close sisters although they did things together and with him that not all sisters do.

On the aircraft flying to New York Starre thought Orion really was the perfect husband for her. She wondered if a replica existed.

The stocking TV and cinema ads were a sensation and were immediately banned in some countries but a backup film showing Starre wearing panties and bra and not having a naughty affair at a railway station was made available in those countries insisting on good standards, to their credit. The ads began in color with the model that many people, at least in New York, knew was Starre but turned into mono color during the supposedly sex scene with the cameras focused solely on the stockings and wriggling butt and blurred shots across her pussy as it merged into another dark mass.

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