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There was much more traffic than I expected. I had a smile on my face. The customers coming in and out of my place of business had smiles on their faces, too.

What kind of business did I have that had everyone smiling? I own and manage a whorehouse. Or if you wish to be more genteel, a bordello, a brothel, a house of ill repute.

It's the second one I've owned. I opened this one because I closed the first one when I found a niche client base that as those smiles indicate is very lucrative.

My client base? In my first house I discovered that there are men who prefer to eat pussy, and willing to pay to eat it.

So that's the specialty in Iris' House. I'm Iris and in my house there's no fucking, no cock sucking. Just pussy eating. My clients love it. The girls love it.

Here in Nevada. I have the only one. As I watch the customers going in and out the door on my first anniversary, I'm already thinking I'm going to need a bigger house.

It started when seven men came into my first house and insisted that I provide them with girls. "We want to eat pussy. Do you have any girls available?"

"You just want to eat? No fucking? No cocksucking?" I asked.

"Yep, that's what we're looking for."

Oh, I had girls. As always in Reno there were conventions in town, and my girls were all busy. They'd been busy since the 5,000 accountants from just about everywhere arrived. Some girls didn't even bother getting dressed between clients. One guy would leave a girl's room, and the next guy would come in get undressed and mount her.

My girls didn't mind but those seven guys did. They wanted to eat pussy, but not cum-filled pussy. I mean by the time they arrived, most of my girls had already done four five guys that night. "Gentlemen, if you come back tomorrow night, I promise, I'll have girls who are as fresh as a daisy, or in my case, fresh as an Iris."

They agreed.

I spent the next day going around Reno looking for girls who were free. Like I said, it was a huge convention; most of the girls were booked; most of the houses were booked.

I ended up recruiting six girls from a near-by college. I offered them more money than I should have, but I'd made a promise to those guys. It's not good business to disappointment clients.

I ended up losing money, but it was the beginning. Over the years, once in a while a girl would tell me, "Iris, the guy I just did, he just wanted to eat my pussy. No fucking. I offered to blow him. He wasn't interested, but he left me a very generous tip. Strange."

As for those seven guys? Since I'd only found six girls, I found myself on my back with my legs spread. I'm fifty-two-years-old. I haven't been a working girl in decades, and never like this. The client, Ralph from Indiana didn't seem to mind. Didn't seem to mind my old pussy. I had no idea how much to charge, but like I said I lost money.

In a traditional place of business when a guy shoots his load, his time is up unless he's willing to pay for round two. I had no idea how long Ralph from Indianapolis would eat neither did those college girls. Turns out Ralph ate for a little less than hour.

The other girls reported about the same.

It had been so long since I'd actually had a lover, I can't tell you if Ralph was a good pussy eater or not. It didn't matter. I've been in the business over thirty years, I knew what to say and do to make Ralph think that he was the greatest pussy eater Nevada had ever seen.

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