Scoring Thanks to Argo

Linking up with a female is never a problem for Australian immigrant Argo Ballard. It continues to surprise him that some people have problems finding another person for recreational purposes.

Argo's advice – and he frequently gives this advice to friends and acquaintances – is to keep it simple.

I know Argo well as he's my neighbour and we often drink and shoot pool together and over the years I've learned pearls of wisdom from him.

According to Argo, the quickest way to get a date for Saturday night is to continue asking prospects for a date for Saturday night and until you score with one of them.

Sounds simple, doesn't it?

"I'm shy speaking to women," I said.

"If you think you've already made difficult for yourself. Try imagining walking into the movies and you spot just one empty seat; accept that filling that space is the challenge you face but consider you can handle it. You are good looking, have money, I think you have charm – now get off your ass and go asking politely is that seat is available."

Well, I decided to keep it simple and not bother with trying for someone with Princess status. I tried the first person I saw.

Argo's mom was flattered that I should ask her to the movies, patted my cheek and told me to ask someone closer to my own age.

But Mrs Ballard, a former beauty from Eastern Europe was a real brick, calling to me as I slunk away.

"Gus if you can't get a date I'll go with you."

The next person I asked accepted and I was over the moon.

Argo was in his workshop behind the house and I gave him my great news. He grinned, congratulated me for taking the first step and then scowled.

"Gus, if I find you hit on my sister for the full monty [slang for the full works] I'll beat the crap out of you; she's only eighteen."

I shook in my shoes because at college Argo was the best brawler in our group. I was relieved his mom had not accepted my offer as he may have imagined me trying it on with his mom and his reaction to that would have been ruinous to my delicate face.

The date started on a downslide.

"I've never been on a date with an older man," said Argo's sister Tiffany, but she took my 26-year-old arm possessively. Apparently she was either trained for cinema attendance or else bored with the film because she unzipped me and dropped on to the floor on her knees, oblivious to everyone around us, and gave me one of the best blow jobs I've had in a year.

She was eighteen, for fuck's sake, I thought in my expanding glow. By the time she reached the age of thirty she'd be a living legend.

There was no mess as she swallowed the lot.

Only after she'd regained her seat and yanked my left hand down inside her skirt did I remember her face-pulping brother. As my fingers snaked into her small, warm and damp orifice I replayed Argo's words: if he learned I'd hit heavy on his sister he'd beat the crap out of me.

Despite my alarm I chose intelligence over fear, believing that as Tiffany had been the instigator it was unlikely she'd confess her wantonness if interrogated by an overly protective brother.

After the movies Tiffany and I ate take-out pizza on a seat on the riverfront.

Tiffany pulled out one of her boobs and obviously I was expected to squeeze and suck it, which I did.

She then began moaning and moved into pelvic thrusting.

Tiffany jumped up and led me into a narrow alley that looked just wide enough for one of those Italian mini cars to traverse.

"Fuck me."

That was a reasonable request, but where's the bed or sofa. Was I missing something?

While I hesitated, Tiffany bent over and hooked off her panties with her foot, picked them up, put them into her handbag and in the same movement extracted a condom which she handed to me, saying she did not allow a guy to go bareback on a first date.

Tiffany backed into the wall, lifted the hem of her amazingly short dress over his hips, lifted herself up by her toes and said, "What are we waiting for?"

The brat was expecting me to hump her standing up!

"Oooh, do you think my pussy will be able take that?" she cooed, eyeing my half-mast dick.

So sensually did she say that, acting coy, that I was at 100% extension within one-tenth of a second.

I was not against becoming a-back-alley-wall-operator, but hesitated and she groaned and became even more proactive. Tiffany ripped open my shirt, shedding buttons in all directions and bit into my right nipple drawing blood.

"Yikes, what are you doing?" I screamed and she pulled me forward with her mouth opened wide and drooled while my dick apparently on auto slid up her chute in one fluid movement and our pelvic bones slammed together.

The answer was obvious – she wanted action on eight cylinders rather than me proceeding gingerly as if I were dealing with a virgin.

I arrived home absolutely rooted.

Tiffany had clamped her muscles around my dick and milked most of my discharge into the condom. She then sank to her knees, ripped off the rubber and sucked me until the next thing coming out of my dick would have been internal membrane.

"How was that," I croaked.

The 18-year-old petite beauty, with innocent blue eyes, calmly told me – "I'd rate you six out of ten but you haven't had my butt yet."

Half-horrified picturing that disgusting sequel, I pleaded exhaustion.

Next evening when Argo and I met at the bar for a drink he complimented me for being so charming to his sister.

"Tiffany said you behaved like a perfect gentleman and that pissed off mom as she wants Tiffany to get sexually experienced and mom reckons you'd be a good instructor."

"There's nothing I could teach Tiffany," I mumbled.

When Argo asked what I had just said, I replied she was still too young and innocent to be subjected to such heartless education.

Argo slapped me on the back and said an absurd thing: "No girl has to be nervous of you because you're pussy shy."

Argo then said a most amazing thing.

"I've been called away to the Motor Cross Race Team for a couple of weeks to fill in for the chief mechanic who has to get married as the baby's coming early.

Lizzy's getting her modelling diploma on Saturday night at a dinner-ball so you've got to stand in for me, I mean it Gus."

I said no problem, knowing that Elizabeth May Sutton-Fitzgerald would reject me outright. She just manages to tolerate me being near her because Argo insists I'm his best mate. Well, I did save him from drowning when we were eleven, and since then no one has done that much for him, not even his mom and dad.

Argo is dark and handsome (so my mom says) and is six-three on just one 210lbs, whereas I'm what he calls 'a short-arse' at five-eleven at 178lbs. Lizzy (Elizabeth) is also five-eleven and was 178lbs before preparing for the modelling course and it pisses her off that I eat anything and everything and my weight doesn't vary on ounce, whereas she has one burger and then has to go on a diet.

It also pisses Lizzy off that I'm way smarter that Argo, but that's not my fault, and that my income as a junior public relations consultant is way more than what he clears personally from his tiny motor cycle sales and repair shop.

On top of that I usually beat them at cards, pool and tennis – I don't know why, it just happens.

Lizzy also thinks I'm a closet homosexual because the three times she's organized a date for us to go out as a foursome her chosen girlfriend complained that I kept my fingers to myself and the only kiss they received was a goodnight dab on side of her face.

After the third complaint, Lizzy had it out with me.

I defended myself and denied being gay and said I found it unnecessary to try to seduce a woman simply because I went on a date with her.

Lizzy couldn't accept that.

"If you find it unnecessary to try to remove a date's panties, then you're a most remarkable man," she hissed, causing Argo to fall off his chair laughing.

"What are these?" she asked, pressing her boobs together and thrusting them under my face.

I decided to play along with her theory.

"Your bosom?"

"Real men call them tits!" she shouted.

Argo in the background turned purple trying to control his laughter.

"And what is this here?" she shouted, cupping her snatch with her hand.

"Your vulva?"

"I can't believe it," said Lizzy. "Who in this day and age calls it that! Tell him what you call it, Argo."

"Cunt," he said, enjoying this inquisition.

"Say it!" hissed Lizzy, her dark green eyes flashing.

"C-c-c-c...," I tried feebly, pleased about my deception.

"Oh, go back to you precious affected chums," she hissed and stalked from the room.

Argo came over to me and slapped me on the back.

"You were so funny, and she absolutely believes you; you'll never get to suck those tits of hers in a hundred years."

"Er, she's your girl, Argo."

"That's right Gus, and don't you ever forget it."

Well, the truth was I secretly adored Lizzy – utterly.

She has a soft yet lively personality and warmth that really appeals to me.

Long brown hair frames over the sides of her face and the longer mane goes half-way down her back. Lizzy has full, sensuous (to me) lips and great teeth in a mouth that is so wide, which is the reason why the talent agent convinced her to take the modelling course.

The former 34C breasts are currently scratching to make B-size with the weight loss and the fold around the narrow waist has disappeared. Then there were her prime assets (according to me), long, long slender legs.

Oh yes, Lizzy is something.

To my astonishment Lizzy phoned me at work and invited me to her home for lunch.

By the nature of the public relations work no one in the office really knows what you do for most of the time and therefore I had no problem disappearing for an hour for a bite of food and for Lizzy to bite my ear about how she was being forced to accept me as a partner on Argo's say-so.

Lizzy's parents were out. The nineteen-year-old welcomed me with a peck under the ear and handed me a cold beer.

"Look, Lizzy," I said, pulling her chair out for her at the table and pushing it back in without knocking her off her feet. "You get someone else for Saturday night – I won't let on to Argo."

She looked at me suspiciously.

"You've got someone else you'd prefer to go out with on Saturday, haven't you?"

I laughed as if she'd cracked a real funny joke, and said who'd want to go out with me unless I was the last-ditch option.

She coloured, drank half of her wine and said that actually she'd tried one or two guys but they weren't available.

"Only one or two?" I joked.

She coloured again, finished her wine in a two quick gulps and said, "Ten actually."

"And they all turned you down?"

"Don't be so mean-minded," she snapped. "Six of them are now married and the others have something else on – I've been going with Argo for a year so I'm rather out of touch."

"It would be my pleasure to be your escort on Saturday night."

"Thank you Gus," she cooed, smiling beautifully as if she meant it.

"I've got you over for lunch to discuss one or two things. First, you'll need a tuxedo."

"Right, I'll hire one."

"I'd rather you buy one that is altered to fit you exactly – there is a parade before judges for allocation of final points for the premier trophy, the Top Model of this year's class. Even being declared fourth place winner out of the intake of thirty-three trainees is something."

"Right, one tuxedo from Rybrand Tailor's coming up."

"Rybrands? There no need to go over the top."

"Only the best for my best buddy's babe," I said grandly.

"Have you been drinking?"

"No – only what I've sipped from this bottle."

"Secondly, I'd like you to get a haircut – especially getting all of that fuzz going down your neck."

"I'll get mom to use her shaver and..."

"Cut by a real hairdresser, Gus."

"Okay."

"Thank you, that's marvellous; I was expecting a battle over that one."

"Me, battle a beauty like you?"

"Are you on medication?"

I looked back deeply into those delightful green eyes and said of course not and I was sorry to confuse her, it's just that I was trying to be extra nice.

"Well that's great and makes these final two requirements a little less embarrassing. Please promise to remain pleasant?"

"Of course, you adorable angel."

"I'm not sure I like the new you, Gus."

"You'll get used to it. I guess that since this is a pretentious evening you don't want me being addressed as Gus?"

"That's extraordinarily perceptive of you to have anticipated that request."

"I'm that kind of guy."

Lizzy giggled and asked if I had a second name.

"Joseph."

"Oh," she said unable to hide her disappointment.

"My real name is Gustav."

"What?" she responded looking rather excited.

"Is that was Gus is short for? It sounds really trendy - so can you be Gustav on Saturday morning and Saturday night?"

"Yes but what's on Saturday morning?"

"It's a full rehearsal at the venue, in casual dress so everyone will be in jeans."

She handed me the chicken salad but I held it for her to serve herself; she appeared to like that. I darted round and filled her wine glass and the green eyes followed me back to my chair and I noted they looked rather thoughtful.

"The final request is very personal, and it takes courage for me to ask such a demeaning thing of you."

My mind reeled – she was going to ask me to do a strip to entertain the gathering on Saturday night. I was wondering if I could leave a thong on when she continued...

"I'm aware of your same sex preference but plead with you to pretend to be extremely fond of me on Saturday evening, at least until the prize-giving concludes. Successful models have male partners who adore them."

I coloured, remembering I'd left Lizzy with the impression I was gay to avoid her lining me up with any further dates with her skinny friends; that stupid carry-on had come back to haunt me. I thought perhaps it was not the appropriate time to deny gay status as it might work to my advantage if she let her defences completely down thinking I was really not interested in her body. I know that's a despicable thought, but then I'm not always a gentleman when it comes to sex.

Oh damn. There's my fucking stupid brain getting away on me again: there's no way I could fuck the adorable Lizzy without Argo wringing my neck. Perhaps she might let me get away with a feel of her boobs as her way of saying thank you if I excel on Saturday as her partner.

Speaking of tits, on Saturday morning Lizzy's 34B's looked like mini mountains, although a couple of others were in her league; the other thirty babes, course director and three trainers looked like graduates from a boy's school, they were so flat-chested. Most had no meat on their ass but all had incredible legs; I was in leg heaven.

Almost everyone was in jeans – but many of the babes had there jeans cut off one inch below their crotch, so there was an awful lot of leg on display.

The babes were grouped, flicking glances at the guys and giggling, and eventually I twigged on when looking at a bunch of guys: all were shuffling, their upper body bent forward from the waist and they walked looking at the ceiling. All obviously thought they were concealing their erections.

I joined one of the groups, my hands casually cupped over my crotch and I saw Lizzy's proud smile as she saw me acting as if I were conforming.

We were instructed how to escort our partners – what side to stand on, how to twirl them as they peeled off to walk to the rostrum for their graduation scrolls, a process that became more complicated if they were called up for an award.

We stopped for morning refreshments – a choice of five flavours of mineral water and rice biscuits with the flavour of tasteless cardboard. Lizzy introduced me to the three other young women we'd be sitting with together with their partners.

"You haircut looks really lovely, Gustav," said Lizzy. "Sorry I can't do lunch after we finish here but most of us go straight on to our hairdressers. I'll pick you up at 8 o'clock."

She loved me in my tux and I was disappointed by her in her pretty gown, as she had on a special bra that flattened her lovely breasts.

"Why the droopy mouth?" she asked, as the cab took us to the cocktail party.

"You're lovely breasts – they've crushed beyond recognition," I said mournfully.

"Oh, you silly boy," she said, snuggling in against me. "I love this charade – you seem very convincing. Be a good boy and I might let you play with them later."

The cab driver almost ran into the back of a vehicle that had stopped in front of us, concentrating on our conversation instead of driving us safely.

The grand parade went well and everyone looked dewy-eyed coming back to their partners with their diploma. Lizzy gave me a massive kiss, her pussy pushing hard up against my dick.

"Congratulations," I said, catching my breath and enjoying her radiance.

Later we had to do a spin off twirl as she was called to receive the award, voted by the thirty-three graduates the previous day as "The Most Popular Graduate of the class."

We kissed as Lizzy returned to my side but she was disappointed, saying she'd much rather won the best catwalk presentation or best deportment award.

Later came the drum roll and Lizzy was twirled to the rostrum off my arm to receive third place the premier award of top model of the intake, the final marks having been awarded by the judges of the fashion show conducted during the dinner.

Lizzy returned to me deliriously happy and was congratulated by everyone. I was content to watch her enjoying her finest hour.

When Lizzy and I were alone for a minute she told me her exciting news – one of the judges had slipped her a letter when she'd just read in the rest-room: it was an offer of a year's contract to the Barbara Wilcox International Modelling Agency as a photographer's model.

Well, after tonight goodbye Lizzy I thought and it will be Argo's lament as well.

Wrong.

Lizzy told me in the cab taking us to her parent's home that that she'd be away for two weeks while the agency built up a portfolio of photographs and film clips of her and drew her into the culture of the agency. Then she was free to return home and thereafter would commute to assignments lasting between one and three days for photo/film shoots. She would be required to attend advance training sessions and the contract provided her with a generous weekly retainer.

"Barbara says I'll be in demand as the calls from photographers are coming in for bustier models," Lizzy said happily.

"You'll be able to let them size up again?" I asked hopefully, and she looked at me intently.

"Are you sure you're gay?"

I then told her the truth. She squealed and in apparently celebration stuck her tongue down my throat.

We entered the house noisily.

"Shhhh!" I urged. "Your parents will hear you."

"They won't," she giggled, picking up a phone. "I'm calling them now with the good news about the awards – they're at a resort in Mexico. Undress me carefully while I'm on the call and be aware I'm fully aroused."

I had only one thought on my mind: Argo where art thou? Well away from here I trust.

–//–