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102,043 | Cuckold Paul | He Gets His Thrills From Her Reports After Her Adventures | Yes, this story is true. Virtually verbatim. My wife and I are very much in love, and we love discovering new things about each other!
From time to time, I've seen discussions about whether it is hotter to watch your wife get fucked by her lover, or to wait somewhere while she's out with him. I think I know the answer now.
If you want to feel the excitement, if you want a great show, if you want to have all your senses assaulted by the sights, sounds, and heat of your partner having sex with another man, then by all means watch them. I've done it, and it left great memories burned into my brain.
But if you want to experience the pain of being cuckolded; if you want to know the emptiness of your wife leaving you, even temporarily, for the pleasure of another man's arms; if you want to feel the humiliation of the whole world laughing at you, even if they really don't know - then there is nothing to compare to your wife going on a date without you.
And if you are at work while she is out, and cannot even sit and wallow in the sensations, the pain is deeper still.
I really would have hated everything about last Thursday, if it hadn't excited me so damn much. I'll try to describe what happened, but if you're looking for a graphical description of great sex, this won't be it... because I missed it. All of it.
Sally's lover, Ted, has had a series of meetings in our area recently. Since we usually drive an hour to meet him somewhere, Sally was excited (and nervous) about meeting him in our own backyard. As they discussed his upcoming visits, he surprised her by asking if she would like to do consulting work on his project. After thinking about it for a while, she agreed, and we had many fun hours anticipating her "sleeping with her boss."
As part of the anticipation... and the fun... she decided not to have sex with me as long as Ted's project continued. She said she wanted to save herself for him, and she liked the idea that he... and I... would know her pussy was for him alone.
I got to play with her and help her cum nearly every night, but when she was done she would roll over and go to sleep, leaving me to jerk off looking at her pictures and fantasizing about her fucking him. She didn't talk about the restrictions a lot, but she did cum hard when she fantasized about seeing him.
Two days before their date, she picked out the clothing she would wear... everything from her shirt and skirt to her bra and panties... and hung them on her closet door for me to see and go crazy over each day.
I work evenings, but I thought my schedule would allow me to finish work in time to join them. I figured they would have dinner together before I was done, and then I would meet them as they went back to Ted's hotel. I knew I would not be allowed to watch them fuck. Several months ago they discovered that they were much more comfortable and much happier when they didn't have me as an audience.
That resulted in me being banished to the hallway if they had a suite, or to the bathroom if they did not, but at least I got to see them before they started, and to hear them while they fucked. The humiliation of being sent out of the room by my wife so she could make love to another man was intense... but it was nothing compared to last Thursday.
On Wednesday I found out that I had a meeting that I could not get out of on Thursday night, and I would be tied up until at least 9:30 PM. When Sally heard about it she was not the least bit disturbed. In fact, she was happier than I would have imagined.
"I guess you'll miss all the fun, then, won't you?" she said. "But don't worry, you can still come pick me up when we're done." I was upset, and did not know how to cope with being shut out completely from the sex, but my wife seemed very pleased.
She promptly nixed the idea of me helping her to cum Wednesday night, and didn't even let me see her naked. "I'm saving everything for him," she said with an evil smile, as she sent me downstairs to masturbate by myself.
On Thursday, Sally left for work early in the morning, before I awoke. On my way to work in the afternoon, I saw I had a message on my cell phone. It was from Sally. "Hi, I'm at the mall getting my nails done. I was thinking about really dark red, because that makes a nice contrast. Talk to you later."
That message nagged at me all day. We hadn't talked about her getting her nails done, and if it had been part of our "game," she would have done it a day earlier so I could at least see what he would see. It was clear she wasn't doing it for me. She was doing it for him. I tried to work.
Two hours later, when I had a break, I checked my messages again. The new one said only this: "The color I chose... no joke... is called, 'The Long Kiss.' Dinner's at 7. Bye."
I tried to reach her, but she didn't answer her phone. I knew I had to go back to work and would not be able to call again until after 7, but she had instructed me not to interrupt their date. I hadn't seen my wife all day, and now I missed my only chance to talk with her before she met her lover. Even though she had called and told me what was going on, I felt left out. Ignored. Missing everything.
Work was damn near impossible. On the one hand, I hated what was going on. It was then after 7, and I knew they were together. I resented my work, and I resented them doing their thing without me. But I had to admit that I was excited, too. My wife was on a date with her lover, and she was very happy to be alone with him!
As 7 became 8, and then became 9, I wondered what they were doing. Were they still at dinner? Had they gone to his hotel room yet? All I wanted to do was jerk off, but I had to work and to concentrate on my work. I felt cheated... cheated out of my wife, and cheated out of the ability at least to masturbate over the thought of my wife with him. I hated it. But at the same time I was SO turned on.
Just before 9, when I was dividing my attention (poorly) between my meeting and feeling terrible about what Sally and Ted were doing to me, I had a revelation: THIS was what it meant to be a cuckold! My wife was on a date with her lover... dinner and sex. She couldn't wait for it, and she was willing to give up sex with me to be ready for him. She hadn't let my cock inside her in weeks, and she told him that. She went out to get her nails done for him... fingernails and toenails - because she wanted to look good for him.
I wasn't excited. I was hurt. I was missing it. But I hoped they were having a good time together. And when I realized that, I felt so damn small. It wasn't about me... it was about her. And him. Them.
My meeting dragged on endlessly. When I saw that it would be nearly 10 by the time we were done, I excused myself for a minute. Running into my office, I checked my messages. The time was 9:10, and there was one new message. "Hi, we're on our way to the hotel. Bye."
What time had that come in? I had no way of knowing. Was it at 8, and they were already done fucking? Was it just a minute ago, and they were just about to start? I didn't know, and I was not allowed to call them to find out.
I went into the bathroom and tried to jerk off, but I couldn't get hard. Maybe if I had the time I could have focused enough on the exciting parts, but I knew I had to get back to work, and my cock would not cooperate. Thinking that even my own cock had let me down by not helping me get into what they were doing, I straightened myself up and went back to the meeting.
I have no idea what I did during that last 45 minutes. Apparently I didn't make a complete fool of myself, because no one asked me if I was sick, and I wasn't fired. But I just don't know. I sat there feeling terrible, but with a new thought in my head: I'm being cuckolded now. Right now. By my wife and her lover. They said they liked it better when I wasn't in the room, and now they get to be together when I'm not even in the picture.
I really did hope they were having a good time, because I felt miserable, and stupid. But that seemed like the right thing to feel while my wife was being unfaithful to me.
The meeting ended at 9:55. I raced out of the building, and began driving to the hotel while I fumbled to get the earpiece from my cell phone in place. When I did, I checked my messages once more. This time it was Ted's voice. Even before he said it I knew he had already fucked my wife. He sounded relaxed, mellow... and satisfied.
"Well, I hope you're having a very good meeting. Things are VERY good here. You know, just a few minutes ago your wife said to me, 'I have nothing on now but my wedding ring.' And I said, 'Yes, but you have me on, too.' It was just a lovely experience. We're in room 517, lolling around in post-coital bliss. You missed all the good stuff, but we didn't."
I missed it. I really did. He just said so. What the hell was the room number?I listened to the message again, and again I didn't remember the number. All I heard was my wife's lover, calling from their bed, taunting me about what they had done together. And had enjoyed together... without me.
When I got to the hotel, I listened to Ted's voice again and actually wrote down the room number. I didn't need to be knocking on the wrong door at 10:15, and I did not trust myself to remember it even from the parking lot to the room.
When I faced "their" door, I hesitated, asking myself if I was ready for what I was about to face. I decided I was going to be embarrassed no matter how long I waited, so I might as well get in there.
I knocked, and Ted's voice asked who was there. When he opened the door, he and I were face-to-face, but he was naked. No attempt to cover himself, no shame, no apology. He was naked because he had just made love to my wife, and we all knew it.
I tried not to stare at his cock, but as he walked back toward the bed, he said, "We had a VERY nice time together," and I could not help myself. He was laughing at me (politely, of course) and his semi-hard cock mocked me as it bounced up and down between his legs.
I hadn't been inside my wife in weeks, but he had been there just a few minutes ago. He was inside her. He fucked her. He came in her. And I missed it. I missed doing it with her, and I missed seeing him do it with her.
Sally was lying in bed, with the sheet pulled up to her shoulders. She smiled and said "Hi," then reached out her arms... to hold him... as he got back into bed. He wrapped his arms around her, too, and I saw their bodies intertwine under the covers. Looking over his shoulder at me, she said, "How was your meeting?"
"Terrible," I replied. "That's too bad. OUR meeting was wonderful."
She spoke softly, gently, with a satisfied look on her face. Of course she did... she had just had sex. It was exactly as Ted had said on the phone: "Post-coital bliss." My wife and her lover, blissfully happy together.
She turned around, facing away from me and from him, but she pressed back into him so they were spooning. She said something that I could not hear, so I moved to the far side of the bed. They were cuddling together, and I could see that under the sheet Ted was playing with Sally's tits. I pulled down my pants, sat on the floor leaning against the wall, and jerked off while they talked to me. Actually, they didn't talk to me. They talked to each other, for me to hear.
Ted said, "It really was wonderful, wasn't it? We tried so many different positions, and each one felt better than the last." "Mmmm," she replied.
I felt the blood rush to my face as I digested the ideas behind the words. They had tried all kinds of positions... all kinds of different ways for him to stick his cock in my wife's pussy... all kinds of different ways for him to look at my naked wife while he fucked her... all kinds of angles to turn each other on as much as possible. I was humiliated at the ease with which he related this, and angry that I didn't even get to watch, let alone participate, and so damn turned-on that I pumped my own cock furiously as I listened.
She looked back at him, smiling, and I saw her left hand reach behind her, between his legs. As she began stroking him... not to make him hard, but just to be affectionate... the sheet slipped off her breasts. I saw both his hands on her, one on each breast, and I really didn't know whether to cry or cum.
I had a tremendous urge to stop him... to say, "Those are MY wife's tits! Get your hands off them!" But I knew I wouldn't, and I couldn't. Yes, they were my wife's tits, but tonight she had given them to him, and he was enjoying them. So was she.
They compared notes on their lovemaking. Ted said he went down on her to get her wet, and to his delight found her soaking wet as soon as he kissed her pussy. Sally reminded him that she never just automatically gets wet for me, and he asked me if that was really true.
I admitted it was... we always use lubricant when we make love. He just shook his head in disbelief, and said, "She sure doesn't need anything to make her wetter when I'm with her."
Then Ted talked about how fast Sally came. After they had fucked for a while, she took out her pocket rocket and he held her and sucked on her nipples while she used it. He said, and she confirmed, that she came "almost immediately."
She didn't mention that it takes her 10 or 15 minutes to cum when she and I do the exact same thing. I've never seen her cum that fast, and I didn't see it this time, either. I missed it. But I didn't miss the message... Sally came in Ted's arms. My wife orgasmed for him. She orgasmed WITH him. He held her, felt her, kissed her and sucked her nipples, until she exploded there in his bed. She gave him her body and her pleasure... the things promised only to me when we were married. This time, I wasn't even there to see her give it away.
Ted continued talking as he continued caressing my wife's breasts and kissing her neck and shoulders. "After she came, she got on top of me and rode me. I tried to hold back, but she was too good."
She was too good! She MADE him cum inside her. She drew his orgasm out of him. He wanted to wait, but she fucked him too well. MY WIFE fucked him too well, so he came in her.
He talked so matter-of-factly about it that I had to imagine the pleasure: Ted grunting, spasming, and squirting his cum into my wife's body. There was no passion in his telling; only satisfied, relaxed, "post-coital" mocking of her husband as he held her in his arms.
"You are a very, very sexy woman, you know," he said to her, as if I had disappeared. "I am already looking forward to our next time together."
"Me, too," she replied. "Let's make it soon."
With that, she pulled the sheet off and got out of the bed, for one brief moment standing in front of me. But she quickly walked around to the far side of the bed, where Ted was then standing. I suddenly realized that the sheet over her had not been to protect her modesty in front of Ted, but in front of me. I was the outsider, the one who came into the lovers' room. She had covered herself when I knocked on the door!
They stood together and embraced. Ted dropped his hands to her ass, and caressed her cheeks as he drew her body to his. She melted into him. No resistance, no hesitation. No embarrassment. No regret. They kissed deeply, and I felt as if I was shrinking into the carpet.
They let go of each other and Sally began to dress. Only then did I realize that the bra and panties she was putting on (in front of him! Why does wearing only a little seem more exposed than being naked?) were not the ones she had left out for me to see in advance.
She caught my eyes staring at her underwear, and instantly knew what I was thinking. "I changed my mind about these today. I thought these were sexier than the ones I had chosen." She had tossed away the ones she chose for me to see, and picked these for him. I didn't even know, and she didn't care, that I wasn't even imagining the right clothing as I thought about them together.
"I don't know what the other ones looked like, but these are absolutely lovely," Ted interjected. Even the few words shared between my wife and me were not ours alone. Ted felt free to comment on her underwear, and to butt into our conversation. I started to get angry, but Sally turned to him and smiled. "I'm glad. I chose them for you," she cooed. I sank further into the carpet.
Sally continued to dress, and she and Ted talked about their work, their plans and their time in bed. Ted stood stark naked, and again his half-hard cock mocked me. He was naked because he had just been intimate with my wife.
Damn, he had just been IN my wife. Of all the events of the evening, seeing him standing there, and his cock hanging there, and my wife so completely comfortable with the view, was the hardest to handle. He knew my wife, in the Biblical sense, and she knew him. Suddenly I had a little insight into how comfortable they were with each other, in and out of bed. The affection they spoke about was real.
When Sally was dressed and ready to leave, they kissed and hugged while I pulled up my pants. Ted walked us to the door, and Sally told me to say thank-you to Ted for giving her such a nice evening. I quietly said thanks, and he reached out to shake my hand, so I did. I shook the hand of the naked man who had just fucked my wife. I felt very stupid. But isn't that the appropriate feeling when you thank the naked man who just fucked your wife?
At home, we put the kids to bed and got into bed together. Sally changed into her nightgown in the bathroom, which I understood to be a signal that she was finished with sex for the night. She got under the covers and reached over to hug me. I pulled down my underwear and began to masturbate while she kissed me. I asked if I could look at her tits while I jerked off, and she said no, not tonight. Tonight they were only for Ted.
As I stroked myself harder and harder, she leaned into my side and whispered in my ear. "We never realized how much it puts a damper on things when you're around, even when you're outside the door. We liked it much better this way. And it will be this way from now on."
"I can't sit in the next room and listen?" "No, not anymore. We like being together... we really like it... and having you there gets in the way. We decided you're not going to be there anymore.
"But," she continued, "I'll always come home to you, I promise. Just some nights, I'll come home to you with Ted's sperm swimming around inside me. As it is doing right now."
I started cumming like mad, and my wife held me as I did.Not the way she held Ted, which was with her arms, her legs, and her pussy, but she held me nonetheless. That's the closest I have gotten to sex with my wife in the past three weeks.
The real sex? I missed it. | null | null | Authors/Joans_True_3-some_Stories/C-700 THE CUCKOLD MAN/C-737-He Gets His Thrills From Her Reports After Her Adventures.txt |
102,086 | Josh in Nebraska | My Wife Finally Did It | Yes, my wife finally did it. We had been talking about her getting a lover for a while, and nothing ever really happened. She only chatted online with other guys, and I thought she was just amusing me.
Then I placed an ad online for guys to contact her. We got a ton of replies (and still are getting them). She had a date with one of the guys on Friday night (I stayed home and babysat). I was anxious all night.
She went to a bar, hung out, and got hit on by plenty of guys as she waited for her date. My wife is gorgeous... blonde hair, blue eyes, 38DD. The problem is I don't satisfy her with my 5". She is obsessed with big cocks.
Anyway, she came home and told me about her night... how she flirted with her date and had fun. Then the guy walked her to our car and kissed her. She said she felt his cock and said she could tell he was much bigger than me, but she decided to come home.
I couldn't believe it! The next day, she had a date with another guy. She went to his house... this time it was to have sex! She came home after 5 hours, walked right over to me, and kissed me. I didn't ask, but I knew I was kissing her right where another dick had been.
I was so turned-on I couldn't believe it! We went right to the bedroom, undressed, and I dove straight for her pussy. I wanted to see if it looked different or felt different. Heck, I even wondered if it tasted different.
I think I could taste the condom on her pussy. Anyway, she proceeded to tell me how his cock was "huge" and "rock hard." I felt so inadequate that I had to prove to her that I was just as good. She told me how he made her cum just from fucking (something I have never been able to do), and that he fucked her for over an hour!
She said he even fucked her on her back, and as he was sliding it in, she told me she had said, "Oh, that feels so good," and he responded by saying, "It is only half way in." As he slid in more and more, she said he touched her in ways I have never been able to, and never will be able to.
She said he fucked her like that (on her back), then rolled her over, fucking her from behind, and his big cock never came out. She said she was so loud he was concerned she would wake the neighbors. Then she said he flipped her back over, and she told him to cum on her tits.
She said he beat his dick with one hand and blew a huge load on her tits. At that moment, I immediately moved up and started sucking her tits. I stuck my cock in her right away. She was pretty tight (I think she was swollen). I came after just three pumps.
So I cleaned her up, and we cuddled for a bit. Then I tried over and over to get a hard-on again. I couldn't. It was a horrible feeling. The next day, we fucked, and she was so loose. She keeps talking about "her night," and how good it was. I feel bad she has had to settle with me for so long. At least now I know she will have some serious satisfaction.
Anyway, a few days have passed, and I feel much better about her having a lover. I am not sad about it at all anymore. In fact, I am encouraging her.
She has a date again tomorrow. She is going to the movies with some guy, and all she said is that she is gonna wear a short skirt, and she will email me more about it at work today.
I know I have opened a door, and there is no closing it. But I am truly happy for her. | null | null | Authors/Joans_True_3-some_Stories/C-700 THE CUCKOLD MAN/C-717-She Finally Did It.txt |
102,304 | null | "Going Solo" at My Husband's Suggestion Was Fun | Yesterday started out like any other ordinary Saturday. I got up, got ready for work, and headed out.
I texted my hubby within 5 minutes of leaving him. I told him I missed him already and wished we could spend the day together in each other's arms. He responded that he would blow off work if I would, but he and I both knew I couldn't. I work in a little local bar that does not have a backup bartender, so it is a must for me to show when scheduled.
He and I chatted back and forth on my drive, and he sent me a few pictures of his (my) cock, saying that it missed me, but I continued on to work. I arrived and texted him back, telling him I love him, and that I may lose the phone signal, as I typically do.
I got started opening the bar, while sending a few chats back to my hubby. My manager was sitting there. As she and I were talking, I told her how my hubby wanted me to blow off work, but knew I couldn't. She was glad I hadn't. Then she asked if he was coming up for coffee before he had to go to work. I texted him, and he said he would.
When he arrived, we kissed hello, made small talk, had our coffee, and I could see he really didn't want to go to work. He asked me if he should blow off work. I told him it was up to him, but that I had to work until 5 PM, regardless. He said, "I know, but I want to hang out with you, if you want me to." So he flipped a coin, and called a co-worker who told him it won't be a problem if he took the day off.
So there we were. There were only a couple of patrons in the bar with us, so we started talking to each other and feeling each other (discreetly of course). My hubby told me he wanted me to "go solo" with another guy, and then come home to him... something I have never done.
I am 44, and three times my hubby has brought other guys home to "double" on me. I enjoyed all three of them, and my hubby let me know he was okay with sharing me. This day he was asking me if I would go solo for him, and come home with a well-used pussy.
I laughed and said, "Sure... I guess I would do that, if I had a player." With his encouragement, I texted a friend, but got no response. Hubby asked, "What about Sammy?"
A bit of background on Sammy: I met him online, and he wanted to have sex with me, but only me, and at the time hubby and I were just beginning our new lifestyle of wife sharing. I told Sammy the only way was for us to have a three-way with my hubby first, then we would see about just the two of us. So after about a month of talking to Sammy and setting things up, he agreed.
The first time it was to happen, Sammy backed out. Then later he texted me out of the blue and said he was ready. So I checked with hubby, and we made it happen. Sammy was our first extra guy for a three-way. He hadn't contacted me for quite some time after that, so I figured it was a one-time thing. Then as typical of him, out of the blue he texted me and wanted another rendezvous, but just like the first time, he backed out.
I told my hubby if he wanted to see if Sammy was game, go ahead. So my hubby began to text him while sitting at the bar. I continued working. My hubby showed me each text as he wrote them, and each response he received in return. He started out with a very blunt, "Hey Jenny wants a solo... you interested?" Sammy responded with a "When?"
"Tonight" "Can't... have to work..." so on and so forth. It came down to Sammy wouldn't be off work until 4 AM, and had to do some running around for his mom on Sunday. He texted me to confirm that I know about my hubby's proposal, and that I wanted it. I texted back, "Yes... but I'm not going to wait all night on you." I told him to blow off his mom for a couple of hours, or come to our town (about 40 minutes from where he lives), and I would meet him at our little local hotel.
He agreed to meet Sunday morning for our rendezvous, and he let me know when and where. My hubby was very excited, but I had the feeling that Sammy was going to back out like he usually does. My hubby and I discussed it over the course of the night... all the what if's.
I woke up Sunday morning and hubby instructed me to text Sammy to see if we were still on. I did, and he said, "Yes... but I'm trying to find a hotel." He figured we could meet around 10 AM, "and we could do the deed." I agreed, and went to bathe for my excursion.
My hubby ran me a bath and came into the bathroom with me. He washed me, and told me he loved me, and was excited for me... well, actually for both of us. He left me for a bit so I could shave and wash my hair. Then he returned for a "final inspection". I passed his inspection.
I returned to our bedroom and laid down beside my hubby, waiting to see if my meeting with Sammy was really going to happen. I touched my hubby's cock and found that he was very excited about my planned adventure. We made small talk about what was about to occur. As we talked, I got wet, knowing how excited hubby was for me.
I mounted him and started to ride him... all the time talking about what I would soon be doing with Sammy. I told him I would come home to him with a freshly fucked pussy that I then wanted him to fuck as well.
He told me if I didn't stop riding him, Sammy would have to fuck me through his cum. I stopped and sucked on him for a bit. Then my phone rang. It was Sammy. He had gotten a room. I finished getting ready, and kissed my hubby goodbye.
I had about a 30-minute drive to meet my lover, so my hubby texted me along the way, and so did Sammy. I asked them to stop so I could get my mind set for what was about to happen. I was nervous, and excited, but ready, as I would ever be.
I arrived at the hotel, and Sammy was waiting downstairs already. I pulled into the drive and waved to him. I parked the truck and got out as he approached me. We said our hellos, and he hugged and kissed me, taking me by my hand to lead me to the room.
We entered the room trading small talk, and he kissed me again... that time more passionately. He said he had been looking forward to our getting together like that. He took me to the bed, and we continued to kiss. He laid me down onto my back, caressing and kissing me all over.
He got to my nipples, and I told him to be gentle, as they were newly pierced just two weeks prior. He groped at my pussy through my jeans as he suckled on my nipples. He pulled my shirt to the side to expose my breasts, and continued with his gentle kisses and sucking.
I reached for his cock, touching him through his jeans. He got up and removed my jeans and panties, then undressed himself. He got back onto the bed where I was laying in nothing more that a "slip dress nighty" pulled down, revealing my naked breasts.
He continued to kiss me. Then he slid his hand down to my hot wet pussy. He slipped a finger into me to feel my moisture and heat. I moaned and grabbed for his erect cock. He moved his mouth down to taste me, and I moaned some more while moving my hips to meet his mouth.
He spent a few moments there, then brought his cock to my waiting mouth. I sucked on him for a while, but did not want him to cum, so I stopped. He positioned himself between my spread legs... and penetrated me. I sucked in a bit, and moaned, as he kissed me and began to stroke.
I could tell he was very excited, and I knew that Sammy does not last long. I tried to slow him down to make it last, but I failed. After about 10 or 15 minutes he exploded his load inside of my pussy. He asked where my phone was, as he knew I must bring home a picture of him inside of me. He took the photo, and got up to get a towel.
He offered it to me, but I told him I was fine, so he cleaned himself. We talked and laid there for a bit. Then we got dressed and exited the room. He walked me to my truck, thanked me, and said, "We need to do this more often." I agreed, we kissed goodbye, and I left.
I started my drive home, texting my hubby to let him know I was on my way home. He sent me a picture of his hard cock, and said that he was waiting for me.
I got home and headed straight upstairs to our bedroom to find my hubby naked and waiting for me on our bed. He smiled and asked how it was. I told him it was fine, but that I thought of him the whole time. He asked if Sammy had used a rubber. As I was undressing I mounted his face and told him, "You tell me."
He devoured my freshly fucked pussy, and made me squirt almost instantly. He seems to be the only one who can make me squirt. He asked for me to tell him all the details of my experience as he continued to eat me. I was by then laying down, so I could see his eyes as I described what I had done with Sammy.
We had our own lovemaking session. He exploded inside of me, where Sammy's cum had recently been. I told him he needed to clean me. He had no problem cleaning up our "cream pie." I asked for a taste, and he brought me up some of our wonderful three-cum cocktail.
My hubby was still very aroused, and entered me yet again. He came even harder than the first time.We made love/fucked for a while, then finished, both of us a bit exhausted. He asked me if I would do it again. I told him I would. After a short nap, we went for another round. He came again inside and on me, and cleaned me, and we shared once again.
I wondered how many times my dear hubby could cum in a day. I learned later Sunday night that he had at least one more load in him, one that he squirted inside me before we retired for the night.
I really didn't have an orgasm with Sammy, but I enjoyed having him screw me with just the two of us alone. But what really made the whole experience fun was bringing my full pussy home to my hubby and having him screw me so vigorously as I reported on my adventure. I am sure we will play that little game again. | null | null | Authors/Joans_True_3-some_Stories/Especially Good Reports - Her Pleasure/E-134 - GOING SOLO at My Husbands Suggestion Was Fun.txt |
102,569 | Rob Loveboy | Fountain of Youth | Young newlyweds, Justin and Abbie Richards, eighteen, had been trying to get pregnant since their wedding night six months earlier. The couple were rural kids from a small farming hamlet in the Midwest. The hamlet was inhabited by perhaps 30 families; a place where everybody knew everybody else. They weren't a backward people, per se. Being some forty miles from a major city lent to some modernization like cable TV and numerous radio channels that kept the rather private, sedate residents in touch with the world. Shopping trips to the city were infrequent and a major event for the youth when necessity required.
They weren't a religious sect, like the Amish for instance, but could easily have been mistaken for such with their traditional ways and customs. Horse-drawn carriages and lack of fashion concerns kept them a humble people who were quite happy to live off the land by their own toil and sweat.
Although produce was their mainstay, a joint venture wherein everyone was involved in the planting and harvesting of 5 acres of land, they also raised poultry, cows, and pigs and traded those commodities among themselves. As a rule, they sold nothing to the outside world. Unfortunately, government FDA rules and regulations regarding food handling caused their foray into free enterprise, a somewhat lucrative roadside kiosk side-line, to fold. However, they still had a great market of trusted city folk who sought non-pesticide grown vegetables, non-hormone additives, and processed meat and unpasteurized dairy products.
The clandestine `grocery store' was a "by-phone only" order for pickup, cash on delivery basis that kept the communal coffers very healthy. The money raised was used to purchase and maintain the modern farm equipment, as well as, purchase seed that was carefully cultivated a year in advance of planting in a secret blend of mulch that included animal semen. The animals were fed a similar concoction, and their manure was collected and treated like gold, which was liberally spread to fertilize the land.
Justin and Abbie were getting concerned about their lack of fertility on one side or the other's reproduction capability and decided to have tests done in the city. They got permission and took the family's beaten old Ford truck to their clinic appointment.
Justin thought it would be simple blood and urine tests. He was aghast when he learned that he had to masturbate into a cup! An hour later, he managed to complete the humiliating task when he finally recollected details of the teenage orgies he and his friends had engaged in up until he got hitched. A very strict protocol against premarital sex was honored, but there were no established rules on getting off by alternative means.
The phases of puberty in the boys of the hamlet began earlier than normal. It always had been within the community, with some boys as young as ten having signs of pubic growth. By 11, most were well into sexual development and virile enough to produce semen. It seemed that once nature took its course, there was no slowing its progress.
When the clinic phoned Jason and asked him to come back for another test, he thought the worst. He thought that he might be impotent, a lesser man. He became depressed and withdrawn. Fucking Abbie became a futile effort because he thought his masculinity was tarnished and he could never sire children.
For the month before his second appointment, Jason went back to his friends for sex. Abbie never sucked cock, anyway, and he missed that pleasure. He missed the oh-so-sweet taste of thick, creamy semen that most guys could fill an ounce glass of and then some. The nurse that took his first sample was clearly shocked at the thick volume, even going as far as to ask him if he was in some way pulling off a practical joke and had squirted whipped cream in the vial. His embarrassment only intensified when he looked down to his shoes and shyly told her, "No Ma'am; why would I do that?"
She actually smelled the goop but stopped short of tasting it. She must have been satisfied. She resealed the vial and began to label it.
Jason met with a doctor that day he and Abbie went back to the clinic. The man explained that Jason's semen was very peculiar not only in texture, but also in potency. He informed Jason that it was extremely high in healthy spermies, as well as having the testosterone content of that of an elephant! The doctor clearly emphasized that there was no reason he couldn't impregnate a horse, let alone his wife. However, he was informed that more tests were needed to be sure, and once again he jerked off into a vial. Meanwhile, in another room, Abbie would have to endure some tests as well.
They spent the night at a motel in the city. Now feeling confident with the doctor's words ringing in his head, Jason's masculine prowess returned with vigor. Meanwhile, not having had the results of any tests, it was Abbie's turn to feel inadequate and less than a full woman. Her tests would be conducted in the morning; however, she knew in her heart something was wrong in her reproductive system.
The next morning while Abbie was having her examination, the good doctor was not alone in his office when Jason was summoned. Dressed in nothing but a flimsy paper gown, three other doctors were introduced as renowned fertility experts who had flown in that morning to meet Jason. His latest semen sample sat atop on the desk in plain sight, causing him to feel even more perplexed than he was almost naked.
The doctors asked a series of personal questions. They wanted to know if he was an avid swimmer; if he had he always been muscular and worked out beyond his farm chores. They asked him if he took steroids, the word completely foreign to him. To all their questions, he said no. He told them he had always been physically toned as all the other boys in the hamlet were.
They examined his genitals, asked about puberty, and were especially interested to learn that he had developed by the age of eleven. He told them that many other guys back home did the same. The questions became more personal. Timidly, he replied that his first ejaculation was at age ten and was thin and pale like skim milk. Yes, there was a lot of it that started at the headboard of his bed and trailed from his face, down his torso, and ending at his groin.
Jason had no idea of why that kind of information was important to the doctors, but if it helped in finding out why he couldn't get Abbie pregnant, then so be it.
One skeptical doctor asked him if he could produce a birth certificate to prove his age of almost nineteen, as he appeared no older than 14 or fifteen to the man.
Another man asked Jason to guess how old the quartet of doctors might be. He fidgeted and said truthfully, "older than my grandfather, I guess." They looked at each other clearly astounded. "Seventy or Eighty?"
Next, they asked questions on his diet. Jason replied that it was no different than anyone else's. He drank milk and juice. He ate meat and veggies, homemade bread, jams, and pickles. He told them that the water they drank was supplied by underground wells. He said that it had a very high iron content, giving it a bit of a sulfur odor, but, other than that, it was delicious.
What the doctors told him next was all very confusing to the humble young man. They informed him that his sperm count far exceeded the likes of anything ever seen before in the world and that it was ten times the normal parts per something or other. As well, his testosterone levels far exceeded that of an adult bull; rich in calcium and protein and multiple vitamins. The results of his blood and urine tests were also conclusive, indicating a very healthy, if not overly healthy, young man.
Jason was seated in the waiting room while Abbie underwent her examination in another part of the clinic. The Japanese doctor came up to him and asked him to join him. Jason thought it strange that the doctor took him to a handicapped washroom. Before ushering Jason inside, the good doctor nervously looked around and, once inside, locked the door behind him.
The first time Jason heard the request, he thought his ears were deceiving him. But, when the middle-aged man asked again, his heavy accent confirmed what Jason had thought he heard. It was a request to suck his cock. Pulling out his wallet, the doctor offered Jason $500.00 for the privilege, with more payable later if he wanted.
Jason was nobody's fool.Five hundred bucks to let someone blow him, when he was used to the guys back home generously doing it for nothing, was too good to be true. The man studied Jason's ping-pong ball-sized testicles for a long while. Jason actually thought his were rather small compared to other guys who sported heavy golf-ball and egg-sized nuts. Little did he know that his penis was also much larger than the average male; he had nothing to compare it to other than the neighborhood boys who varied slightly smaller or larger. The only common feature was that they were all circumcised.
The doctor gave lousy head but made up for it in relentless gusto. He mostly gave Jason a hand job with perhaps two inches of meat being sucked noisily. The man appeared enthralled with the heavy flow of precum that he squeezed to the surface and licked away like a hungry kitten with a bowl of milk. Jason warned the man when he was ready to ejaculate, and long after doing so and he had gone flaccid, the doctor continued to milk and suck every droplet from Jason's cock.
Normally, the boys back home jerked themselves off while they performed oral sex, or anticipated reciprocation afterward. However, the doctor didn't even let his own cock out from behind his zipper, giving Jason the impression that the man was not an old pervert looking to get his jollies. He was all business-minded, explaining to Jason that he believed the young man's virile testicles possessed the fountain-of-youth. This was a long-standing myth of many civilizations dating back to the ancient Egyptians, Greeks, Romans, and others. He thanked Jason profusely, bowed several times to him, before slipping out of the washroom a very happy man.
Jason never mentioned his strange encounter with the Japanese doctor to anyone, especially Abbie, who wouldn't be impressed by his financial gain and the method by which he earned it. He wrote the doctor off as a quack for his beliefs, no more, no less. His pretty wife never questioned how he afforded the seafood dinner in celebration of the news that Abbie's infertility was only a minor blockage that could be repaired. They rejoiced that she would be able to get pregnant in the very near future.
It was about two weeks later when a conglomerate of Japanese doctors infiltrated the small hamlet. They brought with them mobile clinics and laboratories. White coats were seen everywhere, maybe over a hundred in number, and if they had not been generous in donating to the communal coffers, they might very well have been driven away at gunpoint.
They took soil and water samples, picked a sample of every vegetable grown, and bought meat and eggs to test for whatever they were seeking. They paid additional funds to interview a very money-hungry people. They paid boys to jerk off in vials and permit them to take their blood and urine samples. Even the animals were subjected to the same thorough examination. The only thing that money could not buy was the elders' formula in making fertilizer. They were not permitted to take samples of it even though it was spread over the growing fields and had been tilled into the earth.
Something the adults did not know was that boys were being paid various amounts of cash to allow some of the men to blow them. Boys being boys, they bragged amongst themselves and made fun of those that sold themselves short. It was only then did Jason fess up to his peers the truth of his own good fortune. Understandably, this drove up the price based on the economic theory of supply and demand. When a man would discretely approach a lad with an offer, the younger the boy, the more they would pay.
The scientists and doctors met regularly with the elders and revealed their unique findings. They noted that not one teenager suffered the humility of acne. Their skin was soft and free of wrinkles, particularly in the adults, all of whom appeared much younger than their true age. One negative observation was that females grew unwanted facial and limb hair at incredible rates, while boys as young as thirteen were either proudly exhibiting sparse beards and mustaches if their mothers didn't insist they shave regularly. The clean-shaven look was the norm among the men folk; a wives' tale had it that a man with a beard couldn't be trusted and had something to hide.
Approximately 200- to 500-million spermatozoa (also called sperm or spermatozoans), produced in the testes, are released per ejaculation. Their average count in the local male populace was 1000- to 1300-million.
Amino acids, citrate, enzymes, flavins, fructose (2-5 mg per ml semen, the main energy source of sperm cells, which rely entirely on sugars from the seminal plasma for energy), phosphorylcholine, prostaglandins (involved in suppressing an immune response by the female against the foreign semen), along with proteins, vitamin C were found to be triple that.
Acid phosphatase, citric acid, fibrinolysin, prostate-specific antigen, proteolytic enzymes, zinc (the zinc level is about 135+/-40 micrograms/ml for healthy men. Local males showed levels about 200 micrograms/ml. Zinc serves to help stabilize the DNA-containing chromatin in the sperm cells. A zinc deficiency may result in lowered fertility because of increased sperm fragility. Zinc deficiency can also adversely affect spermatogenesis.) Certainly not a problem to be reckoned with.
In addition to its central role in reproduction, some studies have made claims that semen may have certain beneficial effects on human health: Antidepressant: One study suggested that vaginal absorption of semen could act as an antidepressant; the study compared two groups of women, one of which used condoms and the other did not. Cancer prevention: Studies suggested that seminal plasma might reduce breast cancer by "not less than 50 percent." This effect is attributed to its glycoprotein and selenium content, with apoptosis being induced by TGF-Beta. A related urban legend parodied these findings and claimed that performing fellatio at least three times a week reduced the risk of breast cancer. Preeclampsia prevention: It has been hypothesized that substances in semen condition a mother's immune system to accept the "foreign" proteins found in sperm as well as the resulting fetus and placenta, keeping blood pressure low and thereby reducing the risk of preeclampsia. A study shows that oral sex and swallowing semen may help make a woman's pregnancy safer and more successful, because she is absorbing her partner's antigens. Increased libido: Another hypothesis has emerged that absorption of the testosterone contained in semen through a woman's vaginal walls during sexual intercourse (or even through the act of swallowing semen) may increase her sex drive. Other studies claim adversarial effects: Cancer worsening: seminal plasma has prostaglandin elements that could accelerate the development of an already existing cervical cancer.
The female and male inhabitants all reported an exceptionally high libido. Among the population, the frequency of sex averaged twice per day with age having no bearing. Senior citizens continued to have sex well into their 80s and 90s. As well, viral infections such as colds and flu's were virtually nonexistent ailments, and the body's natural immunity appeared to be ten times stronger than the average human being.
Testosterone is a steroid hormone from the androgen group and is found in mammals, reptiles, birds, and other vertebrates. In mammals, testosterone is secreted primarily in the testicles of males and the ovaries of females, although small amounts are also secreted by the adrenal glands. It is the principal male sex hormone and an anabolic steroid.
In men, testosterone plays a key role in the development of male reproductive tissues such as the testis and prostate, as well as promoting secondary sexual characteristics such as increased muscle, bone mass, and the growth of body hair. In addition, testosterone is essential for health and wellbeing as well as the prevention of osteoporosis.
On average, in adult human males, the plasma concentration of testosterone is about 7-8 times as great as the concentration in adult human females' plasma, but, as the metabolic consumption of testosterone in males is greater, the daily production is about 20 times greater in men. Females are also more sensitive to the hormone. Testosterone is observed in most vertebrates. Fish make a slightly different form called 11-ketotestosterone. Its counterpart in insects is ecdysone. These ubiquitous steroids suggest that sex hormones have an ancient evolutionary history.
The scientists revealed that testosterone levels far exceeded, quadrupled in fact, all normalities in the average male and large beasts. The scientists were flabbergasted by their clinical research findings. Not only was the food consumed loaded with all the elements found in semen, even the groundwater had absorbed and contained some elements to a lesser degree.
Although the total male population exhibited those outrageous qualities, some far exceeded the average, and the scientists were baffled as to why. One sharp individual came up with a thesis. He hypothesized that if the women folk who practiced oral sex displayed higher levels of testosterone and other male chemical compounds than those that abstained, it was logical to assume that males were getting increased doses of the potent seminal fluid somehow. His suspicions were confirmed by Jason when he was paid a huge amount of cash for his honesty. Without discussing the matter with the elders, the hypothesis was expanded to include the theory that homosexuality was rampant among the youth. And, if this was the case, the individual concluded that regular oral and anal consumption of seminal fluid direct from the source caused the drastic increase, almost an overdose, in proportion if that was possible.Eventually, more and more boys fessed up to the pointed question about sex with other males after being offered substantial compensation for their honesty.
A large Japanese pharmaceutical company was next on the scene. Many men in suits and ties with an entourage of security people held a meeting with only the hamlet elders present. The elders learned that steroid drugs were made from chemicals, but some consisted wholly of animal semen, namely horses and bulls.
These drugs, the company men explained to them, were sold on the open market in some countries and the black market in others. They were informed that the Asian populations had an insatiable appetite for the real thing as a natural aphrodisiac. Others in the world, such as athletes, paid any price on the black market for the rare, undetectable, non-chemical purity version. Semen, the elders learned, was formed into tablets which, although not as potent as the cheaper chemical drug, were not without their virtue if taken in high doses.
In a nutshell, the Japanese were offering a king's ransom to harvest the semen of the potent youths who qualified as donors. Legally, one of the lawyers accompanying the team assured the elders that there were no laws on the age of sperm donors in North America. Under normal circumstances, fertility clinics simply dismissed the concept of underage suppliers. They went on to add that one semen gathering could be broken down to 1/1000th of its volume to be used as an effective fertility treatment in women seeking fulfillment of their maternal instincts. And, there was always the development of a cosmetic facial ingredient to stave off acne. The market possibilities were endless, according to the persuasive high-pressure sales pitch. With the agreement of the elders, they offered to build a clinic in the area to gather the "liquid white-gold," which would then be frozen and shipped off to their processing laboratories in Japan.
A general meeting was then held with all of the adults of the hamlet who were given a compressed version of the details to which the elders had been subjected. The elders were, after all, in favor of the get-rich scheme and, more often than not, were never questioned about the management and well-being of the community. The pharmaceutical company guaranteed great wealth to every participating family. That was the motivation needed for the majority to agree to proceed with the business deal, which was sealed with a handshake - there were no legal beagles brought in to complicate matters. An established price of $50.00 per ejaculate was established and was to be paid to the respective families on a monthly basis. Those families with multiple boys could stand to gain thousands of dollars every month as long as their semen remained of optimal quality.
The pharmaceutical company, for their own selfish reasons, let it leak out that boys who fooled around with other boys had a greater potency level and that they were willing to pay a little more in a two-tier payment scale. Of course, the womenfolk were never told of that added bonus. Many of the mothers were already against the whole concept of their babies being used as stud animals for whatever purpose the company decided was the most lucrative angle for themselves.
Fathers were not completely blind to the innocent sexual goings-on among boys. For the most part, they, themselves, had played around as kids. There was no harm done, and they began to encourage the activity unbeknownst to their wives. Intimate father/son chats were held at the fishing holes or during their walks along the fence lines to ensure livestock didn't escape. Boys that never fooled around with other boys began to indulge. Incest was even suggested by more than a few dads with dollar signs in their eyes. It wasn't long before uncles, with the father's blessings, were grooming each other's younger, prepubescent lads to build up their systems for the big day when they would finally ejaculate semen, ready for top market value.
After only a little over a year, new homes were built, automobiles purchased, and modern farm equipment acquired. Older kids were sent to college for the first time. The commune bought a large house in the city and renovated it into many rooms to accommodate the young scholars. Husbands and wives went away on their first honeymoons after many years of marriage. Some took exotic cruises, while others visited places such as Atlantic City and Las Vegas. Some who could never afford the trip before even made the trip to the romantic Niagara Falls, the newlywed capital of North America. There was talk of taking the kids to Disneyland, but, as usual in such arrangements, greed got in the way. After all, a week's worth of missed semen deposits equated to a lot of money being left on the table.
Jason took advantage of college. He was home on weekends only with his wife and toddler son, and another on the way. He wasn't lonely by any means, sharing the communal house with fuck buddies. If the truth be known, he would have rather stayed in the city on weekends after discovering the gay bars and bathhouses where he became a welcomed and sought-after country hick with sex appeal. It was only then that he learned that his semen and that of others back home was so much richer and thicker in taste and texture and much more voluminous than the average guy. Jason really didn't like their acidic, bitter taste with a texture like runny egg whites. Nonetheless, he loved the attention he was getting, and guys were lined up to have him.
Jason never forgot that Japanese doctor from the clinic who claimed that Jason's semen was the fabled 'Fountain of Youth' reincarnate. Nor did he forget all the scientists and doctors paying the hamlet's kids to suck their cocks in order to swallow their semen. There had to be more to that if seemingly intelligent, well-educated, straight men by the hundreds would humiliate themselves and stoop to their knees and request young men to masturbate into their mouths. It was not a kinky fetish. Those men believed in something truly mystical. Jason began to have doubts about the steroids, facial cream, and ovarian fertility implants. The more he thought about it, the more he was convinced that the semen was actually being sold to wealthy men for consumption. He was convinced that the 'Fountain of Youth' myth could be acquired at any cost because money was no object when it came to prolonging life. Hell, he laughed as he thought to himself, it was rumored that old Mr. Fredericks who, at 105 years old, was the oldest man in town, died on the downstroke while fucking his 97-year-old wife.
To be continued... | null | Chapter One | Authors/rob_loveboy/Fountain of Youth/Fountain of Youth -1.txt |
102,646 | morefunnaked | As Requested | Your desires were explicit but limited. When you showed up at my door, I was to take you to my bedroom after you had peeled off your raincoat and displayed your costume for the day. Sapphire blue panties and a sheer black bra were to be ripped off you, leaving you in only the blue platform shoes you had borrowed for the day. Then I was to bind you tightly at the knees, and after that, have my way with you. What and how was up to me.
I begin by also blindfolding you.
You are then laid down face-first on the bed. I leave you there like that for fifteen or twenty minutes. You hear sounds elsewhere in the house, but they are muffled and distant; you have no idea what I am up to. Eventually, you begin to doze off, but no sooner does this happen than you are awakened by a firm SMACK across your ass, followed by a second.
You are wide awake now, asscheeks tingling. You feel my fingers wandering across your asscheeks, then both hands grasp you at the waist and pull you up into a position with your ass in the air, face still down to the mattress. It smells of jasmine, but your thoughts are also of how lewdly you are on display for me now. My fingers again begin to wander. I am straddling your lower legs, and you can feel my nakedness, feel my hard cock against the inside of your knees.
Then my fingers trace across the slit of your fruit that pokes from between your asscheeks. You groan as I do, and realize that you are quickly becoming very, very wet. I insert a finger into your hot, wet hole and slide it in and out a few times. But then I stop and climb off you, leaving you in that exposed and vulnerable position.
I move to the other side of the bed, and as you listen, you realize that there is someone else there. Someone else has been watching and can now see you in this position. Someone else can see your swollen vulvae dripping with pussyjuices, dying to be tended to by a tongue or, better yet, a firm hard cock. A big hard piece of man meat inside you right now would feel so good.
But no, the movement on the other side continues, accompanied by rustling and then soft moans. You can now smell another scent, and then realize that the third person is another woman, and that the sounds you are hearing are she and I having sex right there next to you. It goes on and on, becoming more and more frenzied. We brush against you, her leg rests right alongside yours as she spreads herself wide for my thrusts. Now you can smell the scent of us having sex as our pheromones fill the air. She is moaning loudly as I pound away, and eventually, it rises to a crescendo as she erupts in an orgasm.
We lie still there for a while and then climb off the bed. You hear someone leave and more muffled sounds down the hall. There is again no sound for several minutes, and then again WHACK! WHACK! you are smacked across the asscheeks. Then again the exploring fingers. This time, though, you feel me straddle your legs, and then you feel the head of my cock press against your sex. Firmly it bears down, and your wet, slippery labia part, allowing it in. You feel the long shaft drive deeper and deeper until its entire length is within you, and the fat mushroom head presses against your cervix. The familiar stroking rhythm begins, and you give yourself over to the sensation of being filled and used. Your own orgasm is impending, and you lose all touch with here and now, lost midway up a wave of exhilaration.
Then there is something at your face. You have raised yourself up onto your forearms, and something is there at your face, at your lips. It is another cock, and it too presses firmly at these lips, wanting in.
You oblige, and as you do, you realize that this cock is coated in sticky wet lovemaking juices. This must be my cock, the one that ravaged the other woman just minutes ago. But then whose member is deep inside your cunt now, driving you closer and closer to that crest? It seems not to matter. All that does is arriving at the inevitable destination, and then suddenly you are there. You can't move your legs, and the cock in your mouth prevents you from uttering more than a simple moan, but your body shudders in response to an intense orgasm. As you do, you feel the cock in your pussy throb as it releases a torrent of cum, and then the one in your mouth gushes also. The three of us have all arrived.
Your mouth fills with hot, thick spunk, so much you almost choke on it and pull away gagging slightly. As the tip of my cock leaves your mouth, I spurt one final blast of cum across your face. You feel the penis in your cunt withdraw, and you suddenly feel empty and deprived of something you crave more of.
But no, no more cock for my little slut today. I wait until the cum dries on your face and a fair amount oozes from your fuckhole and down your thigh. After standing you upright and releasing the restraint from your legs, I carefully guide you down the stairs. The front door opens, and you are thrust out along with your coat. Outside in the crisp fall air, your nipples rapidly harden as you tear off the blindfold, then scramble to put on the raincoat before any neighbors see you in this state.
You feel dirty and used.
Wonderfully dirty and used. | null | null | Authors/cuckqueanxxxstories/morefunnaked_as_requested.txt |
102,653 | Kristen Marie ([email protected]) | I Fucked Your Husband | You ladies all know me. I'm the 15-year-old babysitter you trust to keep your kids safe while you and your hubby go out and have fun. When he takes me home late at night, you briefly fantasize about him having sex with me. But then he's back home soon, and you realize that he would never cheat on you with a little girl. Hee, hee. Oh, you poor woman. (M/f-teen, ped, reluc, oral, mast, cheat)
You think about it, don't you, ladies? You have a romantic dinner with your husband, go have a few drinks, then come home anticipating sex. Yes, you know the kids will be in bed because you have a wonderful babysitter. Still, when you have him drive me home, there is that tiny doubt in the back of your mind.
You know he's horny all the time, and I am a sexy little vixen who has caught his eye more than once in your presence. So what will happen when I get him alone? You worry, don't you? Check the clock several times as you undress, mentally visualizing how long it should take him to drop me off and get back home.
I laugh as I think of this. I know that when he gets home, the first thing you will do is kiss him and then suck his cock. Why? Because you need to know that my taste and smell are not on him. You may not even realize you are doing it, but you do. Do you think your husband and I actually do anything in the car? Silly woman, that's an old fantasy story - hubby drives hot sitter home, sitter seduces hubby, and they have passionate sex in the car. Bah! Not me, I do him in your bed, babe.
What? You are surprised? You seem to be, but deep down you suspected... didn't you? Think about it. Remember last month, when he took the day off from work suddenly? I skipped school that day too. You had that meeting you couldn't miss, and I spent the entire morning in your bed.
Oh, please, don't act so surprised. You've known me since I was 10. I always had a crush on your husband. You knew that. You even joked about it when I started watching your kids at age 12. Every time he would drive me home, you would say, "Now you two be good." You thought it was cute, but I didn't. I loved him, and as my boobs grew and my legs became longer, he began to give me extra-long hugs goodnight. I bet when he came home, he fucked you extra hard.
I know you suspected, but until last month, you really didn't believe it. I knew you were jealous when you told my mom that my shorts were a "Tad bit short to be worn around the children."
Really, was that necessary? Kids don't notice that. Not when they are that young. But YOU noticed, and so did he. You saw my young breasts blooming, and you saw your husband looking at my legs. Did you notice the bulge in his pants? I bet that made you mad... but wet also.
No, your husband never had sex with me on those nights he drove me home. What DID happen was I told him how sexy I thought he was. Our hugs became harder, and last month, he kissed me on the lips. I was in heaven.
But he seduced me and gave me $100 and said to skip school the next day if I wanted more. So I did, and he picked me up 3 blocks from my house, right after you left for work. We went straight to your house and into your bedroom. He slowly removed my t-shirt, lifting it over my head.
He licked and sucked on my breasts, making my little nipples hard, and then he unbuttoned my jean shorts and slid them down to my ankles. He then pushed me back onto your bed and pulled them off. His mouth was on my pussy, and he ate me. I came and squirted all over his face. God, it was awesome... Then he took that little toy of yours and shoved it inside me. I came almost as soon as it entered me, because I knew it had been inside of you many, many times.
He fucked me with it, gently at first, then harder and faster. I didn't even know when he pulled it out and jammed his cock into me. I was cumming so hard that I didn't realize it until he came inside me. He came hard, and I could feel his sticky cum inside of me.
Then afterwards, I put on your red Teddy. You know... the one he likes best. Then we fucked for another hour. He even put his cock in my ass; he said you would never let him do that. Well, I did.
I know you're upset, but you're wet too, I bet.
Yeah, you are. You wanna see your hubby driving his big hard cock into a young tight pussy, don't you?
I made $200 from watching your kids last week. Oh, I know you are pissed. You want to kill him and me too. But the money was just too good for me to resist.
So now you want to divorce him and take his ass to the cleaners. Don't blame ya. Having sex with a 15-year-old would put him in jail if you could prove it.
So, let's talk about how I could make $200 this weekend if I happen to have a video of me and him.
No, let's make that $5,000.00. Seems I left the video camera running after he went back to work, and I left, and you came home with your co-worker for lunch. | Mf,teen,babysitter,cheat-husband,cuckquean | null | Authors/cuckqueanxxxstories/I Fucked Your Husband.txt |
102,682 | Jimbo | Dog Trainers | You know a lot of people lose their virginities in special ways, but I wonder if any of them are as unique as mine.
I remember I was young, about 12, a couple of years away from being a full-fledged teenager. Puberty was finally starting to happen to me. But while some start with their voice changing or hair on their upper lips, I started with a healthy sexual drive.
I was addicted. Addicted to pleasuring myself or, as I said back then, "playing my hotdog." I remember first starting out humping my toys and stuffed animals, but quickly learned how easier and more pleasurable it was to do it with my hand.
I would do it at least 6 times a day. First few times in my bed late at night, but soon as I found myself alone more often, I would do it in other places - the bathtub, on the toilet, the couch, or even at school, in the locker rooms when everyone had gone. Yep, I was a little horndog. Cumming, that was all that was important.
I had my own little rituals and rules. I always had to be naked, completely head-to-toe naked. I always had to lay back with my feet in the air. And had to be alone, 'cause I was a loud little guy. Yep, it was the life.
One night, I was tired of my bed. So I snuck off into the living room. I was sorta excited to think I could get caught at any minute. So, I stripped down, laid back on the couch and started to stroke. Just as I was yanking away, pulling the skin back and starting to get a good drip, the lights came on! I flipped out. I could hear it was my big sister, on the phone with her idiot boyfriend. If she caught me naked and with a boner, I was gonna be so dead! How could I explain it? More importantly, how was I gonna finish??
Naked as the day I was born, I tiptoed into the backyard. It was windy, but not too cold. I looked around for a place to hide until I saw the lights turn off, but nothing. We didn't even have any trees back there. I was screwed. I peeked over at my old neighbor's house. He was an old man, he could barely hear anything. He had a shed in his backyard. I figured "what the heck?"
I climbed over, with my little willy flapping around as I jumped. I quickly ran into the shed. It seemed he was using it as some sort of storage room. He had everything in there, paintings, clocks, and a big fluffy couch.... I figured 'might as well!'
I laid down on the couch, feet in the air and started stroking again. Now I wasn't very big at that young age, but it was hard, always pointed straight up and you could feel my heart pumping from the base! As far as young cocks go, it was one of the best.
Things were going good, I was being naughty by yanking it, and even naughtier by sneaking into this shed late at night to do it!
But just as I was starting to get really into it again, I was startled when I heard the sound of panting. I opened my eyes and that's when I saw him. A huge adult German shepherd! He was standing there watching me. I froze, I looked for a way out, but instead I saw another one standing right behind him! Just as big and just as scary. I got up and tried to move to the door, but to my surprise a third German shepherd blocked my way. Defeated, I sat on the couch. I was gonna be in such trouble. My mom was gonna kill me... if these dogs didn't kill me first!
I didn't know what to do, I was about to start crying when the first dog came closer and started to sniff around between my legs. I pushed him away, forgetting the fact that he could've eaten me alive, but there he went, doing it again. I pushed him away again, but this time the second dog came sniffing along with him. They nuzzled away at my legs, separating them. I was too scared to try and stop them that time. Were they gonna bite me? I didn't know.
But I looked down for a second and saw them just examining my little cock since it was so stiff and drippy pre-cum all over the tip. The first one gave it a lick, I'm guessing to clean it. He licked it again and again... and it felt.... AMAZING.
He licked and licked, that was when suddenly the second one licked too. Two dogs licking at my tiny pecker. I couldn't believe it. Felt so good I started humping air like I was a dog! And before I could've said `scooby doo'! my scooby "GOO" shot out in seconds!.....
.........I was hooked.
For almost a week I would sneak over there as soon as my family fell asleep. Stripped down and let those dogs lick me while I'd stroke. Would let those two lick my little wiener until it was hard and throbbing. Then I would yank on it while they would lick my balls so hard they'd bounce and flop, even making a smacking sound on my taint. They would even lick the soles of my feet that surprisingly got me very horny. And when I would squirt my boy candy, they would helpfully clean up for me with a few more tongue laps.
I never got tired of it.
But one night I remember I was laying back while the first dog was licking my balls so good, I would pet his ears and tell him he was a 'good boy'. But then he started to lick lower, all over my boy taint. I didn't mind, heck I loved it. Never felt anything touch that part of my body before. And then he started to lick my boy hole... and I gasped! It felt so right. I lifted my legs higher so he could get more in there and he did. It was so soothing and yet so exciting. Then he and the second dog almost starting taking turns, fighting over who was gonna lick my hole! I figured I could help out...
I got the brilliant idea if I was in a better position they could maybe both lick it. So, I get on my knees on the couch, pointing my little butt to both of them, sitting on my heels. I spread my cheeks far and offered them a snack. Felt great. Not only could they lick my hole better, they were also licking my bouncy balls and wrinkled soles. They licked it so much my hole was soaked with doggy slobber. And just when I thought it couldn't get better, that third dog finally stopped just watching and started to walk on over. I thought "finally gonna see how good this one licks". But to my surprise he didn't wanna lick.
Before I could react, the huge dog jumped on my back, held on tight to my sides and started humping. I tried to get up and stop him, but the more I struggled the more he fought back and scratched my sides with his claws.
Now since my neighbor was the old-fashioned type, he never got them fixed, so little did I know you could only tease a horny dog for so long!
He humped and humped, looking for what he wanted, and finally... he found it. He felt the rim of my hole, and knew exactly what to do. He thrusted fast and it was in. I was scared. He started to hump harder and faster, panting so loud. It hurt, but thanks to the slobber it went in easy. After only a few minutes it was over.
He pulled out. I looked with tears in my eyes and saw that as he pulled out, a huge load of watery doggy cum squirted out of my hole. It was throbbing. I could see his dog dick was completely exposed, pink towards the tip, white at the base, and pointy like a red rocket.
I went home and showered. As I cleaned the dog jizz from my cheeks, I couldn't stop thinking about it, I didn't know why. But I realized the more I did the harder my pecker would get. I wanted more.
For a few weeks I practiced on my own. In my room with pens, toothbrushes, carrots, putting them slowly and safely in my hole. Getting used to the sensation, learning to like it... to love it.
Finally I went back and started my new routine. Lick my balls and feet. Stroke my little dick till I was horny enough. Bend over, get my hole licked. And finally get pounded by dog number three. He did it so good. Some nights I didn't even have to touch my pecker. I would just cum with the feeling of the doggy squirts shooting in my hole. And from then on I would whisper the word `woof.... woof' when I'd cum. I don't know why, just made it naughtier. I loved it, I couldn't get enough.
One night, I was getting pounded. I could feel his long tongue drooling on my shoulders and he thrusted hard, when suddenly I felt a pinch. He finished, but he couldn't pull out. I didn't know why. I would later learn that his "knot" finally went inside me, I guess all that pounding made me loose enough. But now we were stuck. I moved a little as I panicked and I made the poor dog squeal. I must have hurt him a little.
Suddenly the other dogs started to bark, they were going wild. I figured if they bark long enough my neighbor was gonna come out and find out why. I shh'ed them, told them to be quiet, but nothing was working.
Finally I tried to calm them in the only way I could think of. I saw the tips of their red rockets were poking out too, maybe they were feeling a little left out. I started to stroke them, one hand on each dog.Slowly at first, but then they started to hump hard too. Uncontrollably, as a matter of fact.
That's when the first dog couldn't take it anymore, he jumped on me too, but not from behind... nope, from the front! I have this huge dog cock thrusting at my face, and with each thrust a little squirt would shoot out. What was I supposed to do? I opened my mouth and let him hump! He fucked my mouth good, shooting cum in my mouth and all over my face. After his red rocket flopped out of my mouth, it was the second dog's turn. He first licked the cum off my lips and then hopped on too. He pounded my mouth even harder, I almost drowned in his cum!
Right when he finished, the third dog's cock finally fell out of my ass, followed by a waterfall of dog cum. Which matched perfectly all the cum that dripped out of my mouth. I looked at myself and I was covered from my throat to in between my tiny toes in dog cum. But you know what? It was worth it.
I fucked those dogs till the middle of high school, or should I say they fucked me. Taking turns, both my mouth and my hole. And now as an adult, as a professional dog trainer, who only works with unfixed dogs.
I realize now that those three dogs trained me. Even though I've had countless cocks, both men and especially dogs, both big and small, those German shepherds were my first, my favorite... and I was their bitch.
THE END
written by Jimbo Nov. 2013 | null | null | Authors/TabooTeller4U/DOG TRAINERS.txt |
102,871 | Diola Dragontail | Tales of the Mansion | You don't know what it is about this woman, but she always makes you nervous. Not the normal kind of 'meeting with your boss' nervous either. Something about her just makes your insides feel quivery, like they were trying to rebel from the meeting and run out of the room on their own.
A small breakfast had been presented for this meeting, which caused you even more dismay. Your nerves had put your stomach into a state where even looking at food made you feel ill.
You did the polite thing though, accepting a small cup of tea and a pair of plain shortbread cookies. Just enough not to be insulting at the hospitality, but not enough to cause an embarrassing scene in her office.
At least that's what you hoped.
You sipped your tea as carefully as you could, concentrating on keeping your hand steady. You really didn't want to give away the state of your mind to her or, at least, not make it so obvious that she had to comment on it.
"Since you performed so well on your first assignment," she said, signaling that the morning's pleasantries were over. "I have decided to see if you can handle something slightly more intense."
You nodded slightly, "I think that would be fine. I'm sure I can survive it."
She raised an eyebrow slightly, in mock surprise. "I would not speak so fast if I were in your shoes. Even the assignment I am about to give you is relatively tame compared to what I could be giving you."
"Of course," was all you could reply to her minor chastising.
Her hands reached to the side of her desk and picked up a small wooden box that you failed to notice previously. She placed the box down on the desk, directly in front of you.
"If you find this one so uninteresting," she added, with a challenging spark to her voice, "perhaps we should move you up to an Ivory class customer for your next assignment."
The Monthly Cycle
"Is it that time already?"
Mary Riordan nodded in reply, a bit sadly.
The Elvish woman smiled reassuringly. "These things happen." She leaned to the side, opened a drawer in her desk, and took out a large leather-bound book. She placed it on her desk as her fingers felt along the top of it. She found the red silk place holder and opened the book.
She looked up at Mary again, "Three nights then? The usual accommodations?" Mary nodded again.
"Good, good," the mistress replied, her fingers finding a charcoal pencil and writing Mary's name in on the first empty line. "And I assume I should arrange for the usual visitor?"
Mary swallowed and nodded, "Yes, please."
"Very well then," the Elvish woman closed the ledger as she turned to look out the window. "Room 241, but there is a few hours yet. Give me an hour to have the room made up properly for you."
Mary nodded again and started to stand up. In a rare show of emotion, the mistress smiled again, "You should not worry so much. There is nothing to be ashamed of. Everything will be fine."
Mary smiled weakly, "Thank you." She thought for a moment. "I think... I think I'll go get something to eat while the room is... well, is..."
The mistress just nodded, "Take your time."
Mary picked up her bag from the floor and walked out of the office. She wandered in her own thoughts as she walked. She didn't really like this place, but she still felt lucky to be able to come here. Many others like her were not so lucky and always came to miserable ends. The lucky ones were dead long before the madness gripped them. The unlucky ones, well, they left a trail of broken bodies and lives behind them like ripples following a boat.
She shook her head slightly, trying to cast the dark thoughts aside. She decided she'd treat herself to a good meal. She felt she deserved at least that much.
Hardly anyone even noticed her as she walked through the hallways, and she just kept her eyes on the ground. Glancing up only occasionally to make sure she didn't walk into anything or anyone. She didn't like looking at the people here. Most of them were half-dressed most of the time, and she had no desire to see that.
She wondered what they were thinking as they pranced around like this. It all just seemed so... dirty and embarrassing. She couldn't fathom what made them all feel comfortable to be like this. The familiarity they all seemed to have, the ease at which they moved around and dealt with each other, it all seemed alien to her.
She pushed her spectacles back up her face, before they slipped off the tip of her nose; during the entire movement, she still kept her eyes on the ground.
She really did not want anyone here to recognize her either. The last thing she wished to happen was for someone on the streets outside to stop her and talk to her about this place. But then she figured the likelihood of that happening was slim to nil. None of them recognized her as being part of this world. To them, she was just background noise. Maybe a librarian or a bookkeeper for the place. No one for them to pay much mind to.
She slipped silently into the dining room and easily found an empty table. It was still a bit early for the evening's meal, so the room was agreeably quiet. She had only sat for a moment before the waitress was quick to attend to her needs.
Mary kept the conversation short and simple. She listened to what was on the evening menu, ordered, and left it at that. She wasn't rude, but she didn't follow up on any of the waitress's attempts to make small talk. The small talk was really only intended to make her feel comfortable. And she didn't think that would be possible.
Mary stepped into her room and looked around slowly. It was much as she expected. Bare stone walls, no windows, and only one door in addition to the one she entered from. All the furniture had been removed, and a jumbled pile of hay lay on the floor in one corner of the room.
She closed the door behind her and then opened the other door. A plain washroom, just as she expected. She stepped into the room and placed her bag on the counter. She looked herself in the mirror for a moment, absently fixing a few stray locks of crimson hair that had slipped out of her braid. She took a deep breath and resigned herself to the fact that this was the way it had to be.
Mary started to undress slowly, removing her cloak and hanging it on the hook mounted on the wall of the restroom. She then delicately unbuttoned her white cotton blouse, slipping it from her shoulders and carefully folding it before placing it on the counter next to her bag. She removed her dress next, slipping it down her legs, then carefully folding it as well, placing it on top of her blouse. She sat down to unlace her boots, slipping them off her feet and placing them to the side, in an orderly fashion.
She remained sitting as she rolled her stockings down her legs, first the right leg, then the left leg. Then rolled them together and placed them with the rest of her clothes. She reached for the long ponytail that hung from the back of her head and slid the hair band off the end. This she tucked into her bag before running her fingers through her hair to untwine the braid her hair was in.
She stood up again now, making it a point to keep her back to the mirror. She never wanted to look at herself like this. She loosened the corset binding her breasts and slipped it off. She tucked this out of sight in her bag, then took a moment to rub the deep red indentations in her skin the edges of the corset had left. With another deep breath, she slipped her panties down her legs and quickly pushed it into her bag as well.
She removed her spectacles from her face and carefully folded them closed. She placed them onto a safe spot on the counter, and then turned to walk back into the other room. The stone floor was cold under her feet, and she just tried to pay attention to nothing but that. She hated walking around naked like this, exposed, even if it was in the privacy of her own room. Feeling the pebbles and grit under her feet gave her something else to think about.
She sat down on the pile of hay and started to feel around it. It wasn't very comfortable, in fact, everywhere it touched her just made her feel itchy and uncomfortable. Finally, her hands found what they were searching for.
She fished it up from under the hay, and it made dull metallic sounds as it banged on itself. The chain, here it was, the manacle hanging from one end. The other end embedded securely in the stone of the room. With meticulous attention, she slipped one of her wrists into the manacle and snapped it closed. She tugged on it once, then twice, and, to her satisfaction, it didn't budge an inch.
She continued this procedure three more times, until the other manacles entrapped both her wrists and her ankles. Mary sat back on the hay and tried to relax. There was nothing more to do but wait. Wait until it was all over.
Mary opened her eyes with a bolt. She was awake instantly. She could feel the hair on the back of her neck standing up.Something wasn't right.
She could tell.
She stretched very slowly, quietly. So that no sneaky eyes would see her. Her skin rippled over her muscles, and her spine popped silently, each joint in rapid succession. The room was dark, but that didn't bother her. She narrowed her eyes slowly, but saw nothing. No movement, not a single thing. She wrinkled her nose and sniffed the air. There were many scents, straw, mildew, and sweat of all sorts. All of the sweat seemed stale, old, nothing to be concerned with.
She took a tentative step forward, but something pulled at her leg, keeping her from moving. She shook her leg now, trying to throw off whatever it was. She heard the metallic jingle that came from it, and she realized immediately what it was.
She quickly shook her other leg and pulled her arms at the same time, only to find they were in a similar state as well. She let out a low growl of annoyance now and started to strain against the bindings. She could feel the metal cutting into her skin, but the metal held firm.
It was the chains! The damn chains! She hated these things! They kept her here! Kept her from running! Kept her from being free!
"Iron!" She screamed out in disgust, straining her arms even harder against the chains. "Again! Why did she put me here?!"
Her words gave way to a loud howl of pain and disgust. It was a threat, meant to be carried far on the wind. She wanted her to hear it. She wanted her to know that one day she'd find her and she'd make her pay for doing this to her again.
Her howl was cut short at the sound of someone at the door. She slinked back slightly, trying not to be seen, but the door opened, and the figure looked directly at her. He carried a torch in his hand; the brightness of the fire hurt her eyes, making her squint against it.
"Ah, you're awake," the figure said in a male voice. "I was beginning to think you'd sleep straight through the night."
The outline of the figure was humanoid, but large. She couldn't make out any details while her eyes slowly adjusted, but his scent seemed familiar. She recognized it from somewhere. She burrowed through her mind, trying to associate the smell with a memory.
He placed the torch in a wall holder near the door, and then turned to look at her again. He recognized her immediately, he knew her well. After all, they'd been doing this for months now. The wolf girl, as he thought of her, was a wild spirit, always needing his attention. Sometimes he managed to break her over the course of their short encounters, other times she remained sternly resolute to him. It was a challenge, one he truly enjoyed.
"Bastard!" She screamed out at him as his smell finally connected to a memory. "I'll rip your throat out! I'll gnaw on your bones!"
He smiled in response to this, "My, aren't we just all full of zeal this evening?"
She growled in response, holding her place and staring at him. She hated him! He was the one that held her here! It was all his fault! But mingled with the hate was something else. Lust. She wanted him. And she could smell that he wanted her too.
He placed his bag down on the floor, then turned and locked the door.
Her growl grew into a roar. How dare he turn his back on her! She went to leap at him, to sink into him and show him the folly of his ways. The chains held her firm; they didn't even allow her to flex forward, much less leap at him. Her roar grew in intensity, mustered on by her frustration.
He turned to look at her again, "Now now... You don't want me to have to put the muzzle on you again, do you?"
Her growl softened into a rumble in the pit of her belly. She remembered the muzzle. She hated that thing more than she hated the chains.
He smiled at her reaction, "Good." Then took two steps towards her, dropping down to his haunches to look her eye to eye. He didn't know anything about her, beyond what went on in this small room. He didn't know what she was like when she wasn't like this, half wolf, half woman. To be truthful, he didn't care to know any more about her, he was happy with her just this way.
She met his gaze and held it. Her eyes unflinching, her spirit unwavering. She stared back at him, never even blinking. But he just held his stare, and she could feel the urge in the back of her head. It was small at first, just a nagging, wanting her to look away, but it grew. Once it started to grow, it grew faster and faster until it couldn't be resisted. She turned her head away in disgust, breaking the eye contact.
He chuckled in reply, which only infuriated her. Only one thought flashed through her mind, that she'd make the bastard pay for laughing at her.
She lashed out at him instinctively, flexing her fingers as she swung out at him. Her fingernails extended slightly and bit through his shirt and into his flesh, raking across his chest.
His face betrayed nothing. He just smiled at her, unfazed by her lashing out at him. But his body betrayed his pain. She saw his chest cringe back from her nails, and it was almost satisfying.
He didn't give her much time to revel in it though. His large hand reaching out and grabbing her head by her jaw. Forcing her to look him in the eye again. "Are you done?"
Her lips curled in a snarl, and she flexed her arm to lash out at him again, but this time his free hand grabbed her wrist. Both of his hands squeezed, just enough to hurt, making her squeal in pain. "I said... Are you done?"
She fought against the pain and spat in his face. Causing him only to chuckle again. He released his hands from her and stood up. "I see we're going to have a very enjoyable time."
He had the audacity to turn his back on her again, walking back to his bag as he took the remains of his shirt off. He used the tattered cloth to wipe the saliva from his face, then dropped the shirt in a crumpled ball. He bent over his bag and dug around it for a moment, fishing something out and then turning to face her again.
She stared at him defiantly, smugly. She saw the five welts across his chest, tinged with dark blood. She had drawn first blood, and there was nothing he could do to change that now, but he didn't seem to care. Then she saw what he was holding in his hand.
He held the muzzle up where she could see it. It was dark leather and would fit snugly across her face, buckling behind her head. Once it was on, she knew she couldn't get it off until he took it off her.
"You recognize this then?" He asked condescendingly. "How about I just leave this right here? Where you can see it?"
He turned and hung it from the bottom of the torch, where she couldn't miss it. Its rigid leather made it look full already, like there was an invisible head already in it.
He turned to face her again, but came no closer. "Let's go over the rules, shall we?"
"Just like a human," she snorted in reply. "Always worrying about the rules."
He ignored her defiance. "No teeth," he stated simply. "Use those fangs of yours on me, just once, and then it's the muzzle for you."
"I'll rake your flesh from your bones and eat it while it's still warm," she growled back at him.
"You certainly can try," he replied, amused. "But when I break you, you're mine. Mine to do with as I please. Then, and only then, will I let you free of your chains."
"Break me?" She laughed. "You haven't the stuff, little man."
"Well, we'll see, won't we?"
"And what do I get when I break you?" She gnarled at him.
He laughed at her again, this human and his laughter was infuriating her now. "It hasn't happened yet. But if it does, we'll discuss it then."
He glanced down at his chest, looking at the welts. He touched one of them, staining the tip of his finger scarlet with his own blood. He then stepped towards her and held the finger near her nose.
She shivered slightly as the rusty smell of his fresh blood assaulted her senses. It reached deep inside her body and shook her core. Her instincts took over, and she leaned forward to try to lick it from him, but his finger was just slightly out of her reach.
His finger didn't budge as she strained against her bonds. It was so close, so close, but still out of her reach. She whimpered uncontrollably, begging for it, but his finger still didn't come any closer.
He drew his hand back and licked the taint from his finger, causing her to howl out in annoyance.
"For this," his hand gestured to his chest, "You should be punished."
His voice was stern, matter of fact in tone. As if there was no choice in the matter.
She growled in reply, "You wouldn't dare."
"I wouldn't?" He asked, with mock surprise. He stood there for a second, regarding her, then moved with a swiftness that shocked her.
Before she knew what had happened, his arm was across her back, holding her to his leg, pinning her back and shoulders. She snarled and went to snap at his leg, but found herself directly facing the empty muzzle. She tried to lash out at him with her hands, but the chains were taut, holding her hands in place.
"Now, let's try that again," he repeated. "For what you did, you deserve to be punished, right?"
"Fuck you!" She screamed out at him, as she tried to wiggle free.
"I intend to," he said more than a bit smugly as he slapped his hand across her bare ass. It wasn't a hard slap, but it was enough to get her attention, her squirming stopped immediately.
He knew that the prickly thin fur covering her ass provided little protection. He lifted his hand and slapped her ass again, harder this time. She jumped in surprise, a low growl growing in her throat.
The noise only spurred him to slap her again, harder. Her growl grew into a full-fledged roar as her squirming for release was renewed.
"You struggle and it will only be worse for you."He warned her as he slapped her again, using the same force as before. This time he held his hand on her ass after the slap, cupping it lightly.
Her roar simmered down a bit, but her squirming continued. He slapped her again, this time rubbing her ass lightly after the slap. The change in his hand seemed to catch her off guard again, causing her writhing to still.
He slapped her once more, then rubbed her ass a bit longer. Her roar dulled down to a whimper. Satisfied with that, he released her, dumping her back to the straw and stood back up.
She lay still for a moment, recovering her thoughts. She was confused at the way her body was starting to betray her. She glanced up at the man towering over her and bared her teeth.
"You'll not have me," she said through clenched teeth, trying to stare him down.
"See? That's where you misunderstand," his smirk infuriated her even more now. "I already have you."
Her face twisted into a sneer. "These chains might hold me for now," she spat in response, tugging on the chains again. "But I'll-"
"Hush," he interrupted, raising a hand, causing her to instinctively fall silent, then a second later she blinked in astonishment at her own reaction.
She opened her mouth to speak again, but with just a stern look from him, she found herself silent once more.
"You still misunderstand," he repeated. "Your chains don't hold you here."
He regarded her for a moment, studying her face, her posture. "Even without the chains, you wouldn't leave here. Shall I show you?"
She stared up at him in confusion. His words weren't making sense to her now. This had to be some sort of trick or something.
He reached into his pocket and produced a small silver key. He held it up where she could see it.
"Shall we?" he asked again.
She nodded in reply while still trying to find where the trick was. She expected him to suddenly change his mind and put the key away, but he didn't. Instead, he kneeled in front of her, took her left hand lightly, and unlocked the manacle.
She watched, stunned, as he removed the manacle, placed it on the hay, and then rubbed her wrist. He let go of her wrist, allowing her to take back her hand, which she did very carefully.
"Your other hand?" he asked now, keeping his hand out to receive it.
She placed her right hand in his and watched him as he unchained that one as well. He repeated the same amount of care in rubbing her wrist before allowing her to take back her hand. He then stood up and, making no attempt to hide the key, tucked it back into his pocket.
She frowned now, "What about my legs?"
"I don't believe you're ready for that yet." He regarded her for a moment, studying her form for a moment and making note of the subtle changes in her posture and attitude. "Why don't we see how you behave now, first? Stand up."
Without the manacles chaining her wrists to the ground, she was able to stand fully. She found that she was almost the same height as him, but still tall enough to look him in the eye. He met her eye contact with a smug smirk and stepped towards her.
He knew what she would do. She'd hold the eye contact for a moment, and then break it, but before she could, he took hold of her chin and held her gaze in place. On him. When she finally turned her eyes to look away, he pressed his lips to hers, kissing her hard. She meekly accepted the kiss.
He broke the kiss suddenly and backhanded her hard across her face, sending her back to the floor in surprise.
"No," he said flatly. "You'll not trick me by pretending to do what you think I expect of you."
The acidic taste of her own blood fed her fires. Her growl echoed through the room, warning him of her next action, but he did not move. Her left hand lashed out, her nails raking through the cloth of his pants, but never touched his skin.
"That's better," his satisfaction heard clearly in his voice. "I don't want an untamed spirit just acting the meek role."
With a predatory litheness, she sprang back to her feet in one quick motion. With just a single motion more, she was on him. Her claws at his throat and her teeth bared, ready to rend his flesh from his body.
But he didn't move. He didn't even look surprised. He just stood there. His eyes fixed on her eyes. The same pleased smile on his face.
And she hesitated, confusion gripping her mind. She felt something in the back of her mind. Recognition? She couldn't be sure.
"Well?" His voice sounding impatient. "If you're going to do it, then do it. Finish what you've started."
She blinked, and her face relaxed, her teeth disappearing under her dry lips. Her fingers eased, drawing her claws back away from his throat. A single bead of blood started to well up on his neck, where one of her claws had barely nicked him.
"I didn't think so," he said, smugly. "This is a game, our game. And you're finally realizing which of us makes the rules."
He reached a hand out to her, touching the side of her cheek with the back of his fingers. Not unexpectedly, she drew her face back, away from his touch.
"Not quite ready then?" He asked rhetorically. He withdrew the key from his pocket and tossed it to her. "Unchain your ankles."
Despite being momentarily surprised by this, she was still able to easily catch the key. She knelt down slowly to unlock the chains, but never took her eyes off of him. She expected this to be some sort of trick and still kept herself on guard.
He watched her as well, but he hardly seemed very concerned. He took a step back, then reached for the muzzle hanging below the torch. She had only gotten one of her ankles free when she saw him do this.
Her hands froze in indecision. The accursed muzzle again. This was a trick after all. If she could get her other ankle free quickly enough, she could be on him before he could put it on her.
"I don't think we'll need this tonight," he said as he knelt down and placed the muzzle back in his bag.
She felt a wave of relief run through her body. The stress she had wound up in her spine, in preparation for escape, flowed out of her. Her muscles unknotted and relaxed. Her hands returned to their task and freed herself from her last bond.
"We'll try this instead," he said as he removed a long braid of dark leather from his bag. "I think you've earned the privilege of the leash this evening."
She blinked as she watched him. She wasn't sure what to make of this. Was he joking?
"You were wrong," she whispered now, her eyes narrowing to slits as she watched him. "You said that you'd not unchain me until I was broken."
She dropped the key to the stony floor, its metallic clatter echoing off the walls. "But I'm free now."
He nodded in an unaffected way, as if he already knew that.
"I'm free and you haven't broken me," she added, irritated by his not admitting defeat.
"And I have to disagree. You are not free, you're just unchained," he replied, smiling back at her. "And you are broken."
She watched him in stunned silence. He must be mad. It would take her only a second to be rid of him. To leap across the room and paint the walls with his life's blood. If he didn't realize that, he must be mad.
This was the moment he enjoyed the most. There was nothing more to protect him. He was bare to her. She was free now. There was nothing physical left to hold her body back. There was just her spirit to hold her in check, the wild spirit that enjoyed seeing in her. The spirit that was held thrall to nothing but him.
"You are broken," he repeated, drilling it into her head.
More words. More confusing, human words. She could feel them encircling her. Distracting her, muddling up her mind.
"You are learning now," he said, his words almost sounding like commands. "Now come here."
She could smell his excitement, a musky, sticky smell that hung in the air. There must be something more that she was missing. Something else he knew that she didn't. He wasn't scared of her. Why wasn't he scared of her?
She crawled closer to him, still cautious to avoid the sting of his displeasure.
"Good."
His compliment wasn't half as satisfying as the feel of his hand stroking the fur along her back. She arched her back up against his hand, making his fingers touch deeper. For a moment, she could feel his fingers touching her tender skin normally well protected under her bristling fur.
"Maybe later," he intoned, like he was half distracted. "Maybe later, after I'm done with you, and if you behaved..."
His voice trailed off, as if he was expecting an answer from her. She tilted her head to look up at his face. Her face betrayed the hopeful wish to attain his approval.
"Then maybe I'll take you outside to enjoy the sun?" The distracted tone was gone, his voice slightly warmer now. "You would like that, wouldn't you, pet?"
She lowered her head and let out a little satisfied groan as his fingers touched the tender spot behind her ears. "Yes, master."
"Did you enjoy your stay?" The Elvish woman asked as she prepared the papers.
Mary took a moment before replying. The last three days were little more than shadowy dream stuff of memories. Indistinct figures that dwelled in the back of her mind. Tiny smells that clung to the back of her nose and seemed to try to remind her of things she'd forgotten. She could remember little of what happened since the last time she sat in this office.
Her body, on the other hand, showed quite a few traces of what had gone on. Even now, her ass ached in her seat. The muscles of her arms felt tender and strained. Her wrists and ankles showed the tell-tale bruises of restraint.
"Yes," Mary said as she adjusted her glasses on her nose. "Everything was fine."
"Good. Good."The Elvish woman replied with a smile, handing a bill across her desk. "You'll see that it's all the usual charges. Plus the cost of one table for the unfortunate incident in the dining room."
"Oh," Mary commented, slightly surprised since she had no recollection of any incident, unfortunate or otherwise. "Yes, of course."
The Elvish woman glanced at her calendar; she noted a date in particular and looked up. "Then we'll see you again on the 17th?"
Mary just nodded as she reached down to pick up her bag, "Yes, I think so." She rose slowly, the muscles of her arm burning as she lifted the bag.
"Very good," The Elvish woman said with a smile. "Safe journeys."
"Thank you," Mary replied, adding as an afterthought, "Safe journeys to you as well."
She felt a fool as she left the room, thinking how absurd it was to say that. Obviously she's not going anywhere, she chastised herself, so why say "safe journeys"?
The Elvish woman's assistant stood up from his desk as Mary exited the office. He gave her a pleasant smile, but his attention shifted elsewhere quickly.
"Sir?" He said to the man sitting in the waiting room. "The mistress is ready to see you now."
"Ah, good," He replied as he stood and strode towards the door.
For the briefest moment, as they passed each other, Mary's eyes made contact with the man's. But there wasn't a single hint of recognition in either of their faces.
Your hand shakes with nervous energy as you reach across the desk to pick up your napkin. You wipe it across your forehead, removing the cold sweat that had accumulated.
You close your eyes as you rest your face in your hands. Your breath is ragged and labored. You try to regain yourself and steady your body and mind. Your head pounds as it rebels against the effort.
You don't just view these memories, you experience them. Every touch they felt, you felt. You can taste the lingering tastes in your mouth. Phantom pains fade from your body as the memory stones' effect slowly fades.
You decide that turning in this assignment can wait until after a rest. And a shower. | null | The Monthly Cycle: Prologue | Authors/dioladragontail/tales_ch2.txt |
102,990 | Alexi92 | Mike and Joan of Arc | You kids and your damn music. It sounds like a bunch of noise to me. Go away if you're under 18.
Mike and Joan of Arc
by Alexi92
It was a fucking train, I swear to God. It was a fucking train that came out of nowhere. Well, I guess you would know. It was filled with the people that everyone said were the sickest sexual perverts of society.
"Come, Mike," it said, and I got on. I don't know why, I don't think anyone here really understands why they got on the train. We just readily accepted that a train coming out of nowhere was going to take us somewhere cool.
Perverts can be stupid that way. Those who write erotic stories like me especially so. Our suspension of disbelief is rather high. How else can we accept that a woman would enjoy getting raped by elephants? (I still can't believe I keep getting away with that one. You would have thought one of my readers would have called me on that, instead it just passes through their perception like it happens every day.)
But it all paid off. The people here have been fucking around with history. Literally, fucking around with, in, and onto history. All in all, it's been fun to watch. I haven't participated yet because I've already made my plans.
See, I mainly write stories about celebrities getting fucked. Usually, they're raped in the process. I like writing it, and people like reading it. But it's kind of given me a certain wish to actually do it.
Hey, I know what you're thinking. You're on a train traveling through time, just pop into some starlet's dressing room and fuck her. Nice thinking, but unlike my stories, there would be real consequences. I'm pretty sure whatever starlet I'd pick wouldn't like it all that much. And since they could describe me to the police, I'd pretty much be fucked once the train ride was over. Unless I decided to stay on the train, and I'm not planning on that.
So I made my arrangements with the powers that be. I'm going back, and I'm fucking the biggest starlet of all time. And there's no way she can rat me out, not that it would matter if she did, she died hundreds of years before I was born. That's right, I'm going back and raping Joan of Arc. Oh, here's my stop. I'll tell you about it when I get back.
***
"All right, get your ass out of here." I never did like the ticket conductor much. He handed me a couple of devices for my trip as the train stopped. I'm not sure if any of the locals understand what the fuck is going on, or even if they can see the train. And I don't much care. I was too excited about what I planned to do.
Getting off the train, I pushed a button on one of the devices. I watched the train leave. It just sort of disappeared, really fucked up. I was now left alone in the middle of France. As far as I could tell, I was invisible to the locals, or else the devices the conductor had handed me were shit. Who ever heard of a Temporal Cloaking Device anyway?
Taking a quick scan of my surroundings, I figured I was near some old church. The sound of approaching horses came from over a distant hill. I hid behind a tree just to be sure. The sound of the horses came closer and closer until they came into view. At the head of the large party of armored men was a young boy with short cropped hair.
As they came closer, I could see the boy's face more clearly. It was more feminine and finer than most men. And he had breasts. Yes! It was her. A woman at the head of French troops, barely out of puberty! This had to be her. God, what were the odds?
I said a silent thank you to the powers that be as the party rode up to the church, and Joan got off her horse. I could see her clearly now; she was cute, short black hair, young. Really young. Covered in armor except for her head. It was hard to see her breasts underneath her armor, but I had hopes.
Like I said, she got off her horse. The rest of the party stayed mounted on the horses. (I wish I could have brought one of them in with me to help rape her, but I didn't want to risk raising suspicions. If one of your horses was suddenly led away from you into a church by an invisible hand, wouldn't you get suspicious. But still, imagine a horse's dick fucking Joan's tight pussy.)
Where was I? Oh yeah. So Joan got off her horse and told her men, "Do not follow me. I must pray to God alone so that I may hear his directions for the victory of France."
I understood her, so the other device, the translator, was working. Joan walked into the church as the men waited outside. I saw my chance. Slowly, I crept from behind the tree. When it became clear that none of the men could see me, I walked confidently into the church, following Joan.
She was praying at an old, decayed altar. I picked up a rather large piece of wood off the floor and crept up behind her as quietly as I could. I made some sound because when I was about halfway behind her, she turned and looked in my direction. I froze, but she went back to her prayer, probably dismissing the sound as rodents. I got behind her and hit the back of her head as hard as I could with the wood, and she slumped onto the altar. I picked her up, which was more difficult than it seemed, that armor was heavy. I pressed another button on the invisibility device, and she too was made invisible from the locals.
Slowly, she was really heavy, I walked out of the church carrying my young prize. I continued past the waiting men until I was sure I was far enough away from them that they wouldn't notice any sounds I made. I dropped Joan to the ground and proceeded to drag her to the closest barn. It was surprisingly close, but by the time I had dropped her body onto a pile of hay, she was beginning to stir.
I quickly pulled her sword away from her waist and waited for her to awaken. Once her senses had returned, she sat up and tried to get a feel for her surroundings. I have no doubt it was all confusing for her, but she focused on me holding her sheathed swords in my hands.
"Who are you? What have you done?" she demanded.
"Take off your clothes," I told her.
Now here it came, just like any good, and some not so good, rape story, the defiance. She launched herself at me. I wasn't too sure about this part; she had some military training and battlefield experience. But the armor she wore was for blades. I swung the heavy sword at her body, and it clanged against her armor. She hurtled backwards as the force, not the blade, of the sword slammed into her body. She landed in the hay on her back. I walked up to her and pressed the edge of the sword against her neck.
"Take off your clothes," I repeated.
She stood, and I took a step back. I kept the sword level with her head as she began to remove her armor. She tried to talk me out of my plan; she had probably guessed I wanted to rape her. I think she's been through a lot of attempted rapes before.
"This won't work," she said, pulling off the last of her armor. "Others have tried to rape me before. Always they have been stopped by God."
Now I had heard about the Saint Joan theory before. That she had received instructions from God. I didn't buy it. If it were true, then why did she get burned up?
I waited patiently, the last of the armor fell to the ground with an audible ring. She stood wearing some sort of medieval jerkin, looking at me expectantly. I guess she really expected that God line to work. Shame for her.
"Take off your clothes," I said.
"But..."
"God can't help you now. Strip, or I'll knock you unconscious and do it myself, but when I finish with you, I'll cut your vocal cords so you can't speak and take you to a village to be used by the peasants who won't recognize you and won't hear your protests."
I'm not sure if she knew what vocal cords were, but it scared her enough that she began to pull off her jerkin. Soon, she was naked, her small body trembling with fear, covering her private parts with her hands. She was embarrassed by this, her face was red as a beet. I told her to lay down in the hay, and she slowly lowered herself onto it. You should have seen it, she was so cute trying to lower herself onto the hay without uncovering her breasts or pussy. Finally, she gave up and uncovered her small breasts to free an arm to support her descent.
Once she was on the hay, she covered her breasts up again. I didn't mind, she'd soon forget about modesty. I resheathed the sword and brought it down on her stomach, hard. She gasped in pain, and her hands moved to cover the area I had hit. Her hand no longer covering her pussy, I plunged the sheathed sword into her pussy, smashing through her hymen.
Didn't I mention? Oh yes, Joan of Arc was a virgin up until that point. Now she had lost her virginity to her own sword. With a few inches of the weapon shoved in her cunt, Joan began to gasp every couple of seconds as I moved the thing into a better position. Now you've got to remember that this sword, or at least the sheath, was inside of her as I rotated it maybe ninety degrees. Then, when I got it in just the right position, I pushed the sword into her as far as I could. Joan let out a loud scream, but no one was around to hear it. The sword went in maybe six inches before it met some real resistance.I began pushing against the resistance, and with each push, Joan let out a yell. I think I got about a foot and three-quarters of the sword into her body before I thought I was actually going to rip through some sort of delicate organ. Now, I know I write about women fitting a good two to five feet into themselves, but really. I mean, I would have loved to get the sword up to its hilt into her, but realistically, that's not going to happen. (It's a cool idea though. He who can pull the sword from the cunt shall be king.)
Unable to push any further, I pulled the sword out slightly and then rammed it back into her cunt as hard as I could, really fucking her with her own sword and sheath. Joan started to cry as her body was used as a plaything.
Finally, I couldn't take it anymore. I took the sword out of her cunt. It was covered in various juices from her pussy, including blood. I considered making Joan lick the liquids off, but I wanted to fuck her. Instead, I pushed the sword and sheath into her tight asshole. Even though it was really tight, the weapon went in quickly, lubricated by her own juices.
Joan's scream from this new violation was music to my ears. I pulled off my pants and lay on top of her. Even though she had lost her virginity less than a few minutes ago to her sword, she pleaded with me not to commit the act I was intent on completing.
I fucked her. There's no better description. With her own sword hanging out of her ass as she lay naked on the hay in some unknown barn, I fucked Joan of Arc. Her cries for mercy soon got further and further apart, interrupted momentarily with gasps of pleasure. I'm not sure why, but her body was undergoing a response of pleasure even as her mind rebelled. With each thrust, I introduced her to the pleasures of sex. No doubt it was a traumatizing experience, but it was also the best fuck I've ever had.
Her protests stopped, and soon, she was just shouting as an orgasm shook her body. The feeling as she shivered beneath my body was incredible. I continued to work my cock in her cunt and soon came in her body. I fell on top of her and could feel her breath on my neck as she lay motionless beneath me. By now, she had to have been scared out of her wits. Aside from being violated and losing her sacred virginity, she had just experienced a pleasure she probably thought was of Heaven or Hell.
I pushed myself up and pulled the sword, sheath and all, out of her ass. Joan let out a sigh of relief as the anal invader was removed. That relief was to be short-lived. I pulled the sword from the sheath and held it above her head.
"Take this," I said, and held the sheath close to her hand. Without taking her eyes off of me, Joan took the sheath in her hand. It was coated in shit stains, blood, and vaginal fluids. I told her to clean it with her mouth. Scared and tired, she did, licking the juices and foul deposits from the metal scabbard.
That's when the train came back. Joan probably thought it was the Hell carriage come to reclaim me. Who knows? I put my cock back in my pants and kissed one of her nipples. I admit to taking a little nibble on the fleshy nub. I got back on the train and left her there naked and deflowered. I don't know what she did after that. Maybe she put her clothes and armor back on and went to her men, claiming that a miracle had happened that took her from the church to a farm. I like to think she masturbated with her sword's handle.
Because see, I took a little souvenir with me. See, the sheath. I can still smell her juices and shit on it.
Oh shit, look at that. I knew not all the sickos here were as old as they claimed to be. What is she, fourteen? Sixteen? Excuse me, I'm going to go talk to her. | null | null | Authors/a92/mjoa.txt |
103,008 | Loren Tres | You Might Could Be a Perv If | You Might Could Be a Perv If
Loren Tres
For men:
• You think purview means hidden cameras
• Your penis and your right hand have matching calluses
• Your mother, your aunt, your two sisters, and your dog are all pregnant, and none of them has a boyfriend
• Your wife must be frigid, because she tells you, "Five times a day is too much."
• You learned to masturbate before you learned to walk
• You're number one on Planned Parenthood's list of horror stories
• Your little sister already has three kids, but she's too young to date
• Your daughter already has three kids, but she's too young to date
• Your mortgage, your wife, your mistress, and both your daughters are all late
• You read 'Don Juan' and wondered why he's so undersexed
• Your girlfriend takes you to a swinger's party so she can get a rest
• When you show up at a swinger's party with the most beautiful girl in the world, all the women light up, and all the men are disappointed
• You are the respondent in at least three paternity suits
• You are the respondent in at least two paternity suits, each involving a relative
• Your sister won't invite you to her house anymore, because she doesn't want all your daughters to get pregnant
• You date the town nymphomaniac, and she gives out before you do
• You can cum three times in a girl without pulling out
• You have to masturbate after your wear out your girlfriend
• You had sex with two girls and you STILL need to masturbate
• Your three daughters are also your granddaughters; and they're all pregnant too
• Having just gotten laid twice, you go back to the bar, hoping to get lucky again
• You have sex with three women in one night, and they wear out before you do
• You've got three wives, and you are looking for a fourth
• Going without sex for more than four hours hurts
• Your little sister complains that you want too much sex, and she's the third one that night
• All the pimps in town know you on a first-name basis
• You had to retire from being a pimp, because you used up all the merchandise
• Your little sister is pregnant for the third time; only you and she knows who the father is
• The local gynecologists send you thank-you cards
• Masters and Johnson ask if they can dedicate their next book to you
• You have no girlfriend and you can curl 375 pounds with your right arm
• The doctor tells you that those aren't venereal-sores, they're just wear spots
• You got fired as a sheepherder because none of the ewes had lambs
• Three of your girlfriends claim you knocked them all up on the same night; and it might actually be true
• Having no further use for them, your mom, your sisters, and your daughters all gave their underwear to charity
• You're the male lead in a porno, and the producer fires all the fluffers because he doesn't need them anymore
• You are hired as a mattress tester, because you can wear one out faster than the machine can
• Your wife WANTS you to fuck her sister, mother, and your three daughters, so she can get a few days' rest
• You run the local sperm-bank, but don't need any donors
• You can't remember all the girls you had sex with yesterday
• The nurses in the hospital maternity room have your home telephone number memorized
• You buy a diaper service company because it's cheaper than buying disposables
• Your wife, your secretary, your girlfriend, your mistress, and your six daughters are all happy to get a rest when you go on a business trip
• After boning your two sisters, your mother, your aunt, and your girlfriend twice, you still have to jack off before bedtime, so you won't have a wet-dream
• You are surprised to learn that most boys don't sleep with their sisters – after you've fathered two children on each of them
• You are surprised to learn that most girls don't get pregnant until their twenties; after all, your sisters all had three before they finished high school
• Your sister sets you up for three dates in one night, because she knows you can handle it
• You marry a prostitute, and she divorces you six weeks later to go back to the brothel so she doesn't have to work so hard
• You marry a nymphomaniac; then start looking for a mistress
• You've got three older sisters and six kids - and none of you are old enough to date yet
• Your seventh grandchild is on her way, and you're taking everyone out to celebrate your thirtieth birthday
• You've got five daughters; but your wife couldn't have any more children after your first daughter was born
• Your two daughters, five grand daughters, and eleven great-grand daughters all call each other 'sis' – and mean it
• Your sisters, brothers, all their kids, and the grandkids all call you 'daddy' – and mean it
• Your mother got divorced right after you were born and hasn't been out on a date since, but you have five younger brothers and sisters
• Your father rents you a hooker so he can get some from his wife
• Your father sends you to Boy Scout camp so he can get some from his wife
• You've got two aunts, an uncle, and seven cousins who all call you daddy – and mean it
• Your wife pleads with you to hire a sexy new secretary – or two
• You hire your third secretary, and still nobody gets any work done
• Your wife hires two live-in maids because she wants to get at least a few hours sleep at night
• Your wife hires three live-in maids because the last two left to join a convent
• Your father hires three live-in maids and moves them into your bedroom, so your mother and sisters can get some sleep
• You fathered at least three children before you were old enough to shave
• The World Court sues you to set an example because they believe you are a major cause of overpopulation
For Women:
• Mom complains that Dad is losing his sex-drive, and you agree. He could only bone you three times last night, so you had to get your brothers to help
• All the other girls are disappointed when you show up for the orgy
• Your boyfriend asks his brother, father, and uncle to help out, because he just can't keep up, and you wonder if maybe he should invite his cousins too
• You wonder if maybe you should get another boyfriend, because your father and three brothers just can't keep up
• Your sister keeps complaining that you steal all her boyfriends, and you wonder what's bothering her about that
• You know more about sex than either of your parents; and you're only nine
• You have three boyfriends, and you need to add another
• You can't understand how some girls get by with just one husband
• You have more than twelve children
• Your brother groans, and pleads, "Can't you sleep with Daddy tonight?"
• You're a 25-year-old woman and haven't had a period in thirteen years
• Your husband takes you to a swinger's party and tells you he'll pick you up tomorrow
• You think the person who wrote "Cheaper by the Dozen" was a piker
• You like to swallow; but you think it's a waste
• All the hookers leave the bar when you show up
• You go to the pound to find a dog, and choose the one that humps your leg
• You're sitting in court and hear a case where the wife is divorcing the husband because he wants sex at least five times a day, and you think, "That's all?"
• Your idea of getting "dressed up" does not involve more than four ounces of clothing.
• You're on a first-name basis with everyone at the free clinic.
• Your parents wonder how you keep five boyfriends happy at the same time.
• Your boyfriend is already worn out, and you've only been dating for a week.
• The dictionary shows your picture in the definition for nymphomaniac.
• Your favorite date involves three men and a dog, but no dinner or movie.
• Your four sisters and two brothers are also your children.
• Your brothers lock their doors at night because they need to sleep.
• You proposition the guy with the ten-incher who just bought a penis enlarger.
• You walk through dark alleys on the way home, hoping to get raped.
• You never have to pay for your hotel rooms.
• You're the mistress of three men at once; they all know it, and nobody is complaining.
• Your personalized license plate says "IMA SLUT".
• You volunteer to work at the brothel for free.
• The local pimp moves his stable to the other side of town.
• You think being the only girl at a sex party with thirty men is normal.
• You make breakfast for at least three men every morning.
• You think cum is one of the primary food groups.
• To you, being called a slut is a high compliment, and you understand its meaning.
• You want to be a prostitute when you grow up.
• Your high school counselor recommends 'prostitute' as a career choice.
• You think gang-bangs are the normal way to have sex.
• You like to fake being drunk, so all the boys will take advantage of you.
• You schedule your dates by the hour, not the day.
• The local hookers are petitioning to make soliciting 'sex for free' illegal.
• You think having three men in bed with you at once is normal.
• Your parents bought you a computer, so you can schedule your dates.
• You started having sex at seven; but you wish you had started earlier.
• You can't understand how some people get by on sex only three times a day.
• You're delighted to hear that your new job includes sleeping with the buyers.
• Your brothers have all stopped going out on dates, because they don't need to anymore.
• Your parents gave up, and installed an outside door in your bedroom.
• The neighbor's dog humps your leg, so you invite him into your bedroom.
• You're the main entertainment at the orgy.
• Your highest ambition in life is to be a porn star.
• You can't believe the girls at the whorehouse actually get paid.
• Business at the brothel triples when you come down with the flu.
• The local madam has your number for emergencies.
• Mom put you on the pill when you were nine.
• All the fuss about teenage sex puzzles you… Why don't they get to do it too, just like all the younger kids do?
• You dated half the high school football team – at the same time.
• You're pregnant, you weren't drunk when it happened; but you still have no clue who the father is.
• Your three brothers are too worn out, so you have to ask your father to help.
• The local Roman Catholic Church dedicates a confessional in your honor.
• When you come home from school, your dog whimpers, covers his balls with his tail, and hides in the garden.
• Your job title is sexretary; and it's not misspelled.
• You knew the taste of cum before you knew the taste of soda.
• You wear a miniskirt and no panties during your nightly walk through Central Park.
• Your brothers no longer bother to date.
• The kids at school call you a slut, and you're proud of it.
• You were voted 'girl most likely to' by your senior class.
• You catch your brother selling tickets to your bedroom, and you insist on fifty percent.
• Your pimp can't supply enough customers.
• You can't remember all the people who had sex with you this morning.
• You had your first baby at eleven.
• Your boyfriend calls you tramp, ho, and slut, so you kiss him for being so nice.
• You've got three older brothers, and none of them have ever bothered finding dates.
• You're eight years old when you notice the generations in your family seem to be about twelve years apart. You hope to carry on the family tradition.
• You stay home from school, and your mother gets worried calls from the principal, three teachers, the football coach, the baseball coach, the milk man, and your mother's three ex-husbands – all before lunch.
• Your husband's company puts you on the books as a corporate asset, and then takes out insurance.
• Your husband's co-workers list your house as their favorite vacation spot.
• A nearby naval base starts up a shuttle service to and from your house. A nearby convention center starts up a shuttle service to and from your house. A nearby university starts up a shuttle service to and from your house.
" | null | Part 1 of 1 | Authors/Loren_Tres/You Might Be a Perv If.txt |
103,032 | Hephaestus | Ex-girlfriend | You never know when someone from a long time ago will reenter your life. Especially if you left them wanting more...
She had called out of the blue a few weeks ago. A friend of hers was getting married only an hour away, and she had wondered whether she could stop by and see him while she was in the area. She had even dropped a few hints, making it more than clear exactly why she wanted to see him again.
Peeking through the shades, he saw her walking up the path to the apartment door. He was already getting hard, thinking about what he had planned for her. Quietly, he moved to the side of the door, right next to the large, faded living room chair he had gotten from his parents. As he got in position, he heard her knock on the front door. "Come in, it's open!" he shouted.
As she stepped into the room, he grabbed her from behind, wrapping one arm around her and clamping a hand over her mouth as she screamed in surprise. "Relax, it's just me," he whispered into her ear as he held her close, feeling her recover from her initial shock. "You ok?" He felt her nod. "Over the last few days, I've been thinking about the things I used to do to you..." He removed his hand from her mouth and let it slide down along her neck, then ran his hand down her arm to her wrist, pulling it behind her. "And I remember you saying once that your favorite time was once when, with no warning, I grabbed you, dragged you into the bedroom, stripped you while you struggled, and then held you down and fucked you." His other hand found her other wrist, and he pulled it behind her as well, taking them both in one hand as he held her wrists behind her. "So, I thought you'd enjoy it if I caught you at the door, and bent you over the nearest object." Lifting her wrists, he pushed her forward, bending her over the padded but firm arm of the living room chair. With her wrists pinned against her back, he worked her jeans open with his free hand. "And I remember how wet you get when you're being dominated, how you're always soaking wet by the time I get your clothes off..."
Hooking his hand in the back of her jeans and her underwear, he gave them a hard tug, pulling them halfway down her ass. A small tug on each side, and they were past her hips. With nothing more stopping them, he was easily able to push them down to her knees. Undoing his pants, he pulled his dick out, stroking it as he looked at her, enjoying the sight of her bent over the chair, exposed and helpless. "I knew I wouldn't have to wait long, that when you arrived, I could just bend you over and take you, not having to worry about getting you ready." Not able to resist any more, he moved forward and pushed into her, burying himself inside her with one hard thrust as he heard her moan, "Oh, god..."
Leaning forward, he let his weight rest on her hips as he enjoyed her warm, silky wetness wrapped around him as she was impaled beneath him. He rocked back and forth a little, feeling himself move inside her. She was his again, and it felt wonderful. Pulling back, he began fucking her with long, hard strokes.
He took a moment to enjoy the experience, as he watched himself fuck her as he took her from behind. Getting your pants pulled down and being bent over the nearest object put her in such a submissive position. She was his, now, to use until he released his pent-up energy deep inside her. He had her wrists pinned behind her back, and her shirt was starting to ride up her back as she struggled. He knew she wasn't trying to get away. She was struggling as hard as she could, just to remind herself of exactly how helpless she was, and from the way she was moaning, he knew she felt very, very helpless. In turn, he pulled his hips back and slammed deep into her as hard as he could, just to remind himself that she wasn't going anywhere. As he thrust into her, he felt the chair rocking forward slightly with each push, and felt the slight give of her soft flesh as it stretched and moved to accommodate his rough use of her, her insides wrapped tightly around his hard and unyielding dick.
Looking down from her wrists, he saw her narrow waist, then the curve of her hips and nice ass, held in place as his hard thrusts drove her thighs into the arm of the chair. In between ran the slender curve of her spine, until it disappeared into the lovely patch of delicate, sensitive pinkish flesh he was busy fucking. He loved the look of a woman's pussy nestled between her legs, and loved watching what his dick was doing to her even more, seeing her lips spread open and wrapped around it; watching them move in and out of her as they clung to the hard pole she was impaled on. She was really making a mess, though; she was obviously soaking wet. He would have to make her clean that up later. Reaching down, he stroked his thumb back and forth along the edge of her hole. "You like that?" he asked, as he heard the gasp of a quick inhale. "Yes," came the feeble response.
Pushing harder, he started slowly massaging the sensitive flesh between her pussy and asshole. He saw her body tense up, and a few hard strokes later he recognized the breathing changes and tightness that let him know she was cumming, despite the fact she rarely made any noise. "I thought you couldn't come from getting fucked from behind," he asked rhetorically, not expecting an answer, since when he last fucked her, she was too young and shy to talk during sex.
"I never have before," she grunted during ragged breaths, "but you're fucking the living shit out of me!" He gave her ass a good hard slap as he laughed. "Glad you're enjoying it." As he continued massaging her, he let the circles expand until he was brushing the edge of the pucker of her asshole on each rotation. He had never even touched her there the last time he had known her, and he could feel her tense up. The next time around, he let his thumb wander around her asshole, then returning to its journey, continuing in a figure-eight fashion, pressing deep into her soft flesh and then brushing lightly around the edge of her asshole. He felt her trying to push her wrists down her back, trying to get them in position where she could stop him from touching her like that, but he held them in place, and eventually felt her relax and stop trying. He felt a second orgasm roll through her, as she realized there really was nothing she could do to stop him. Almost over the edge himself, he closed his eyes and pounded away at her, with only a few strokes to wait before he could feel himself cumming inside her. Pushing forward, he rested his hips on hers, and enjoyed the sensation of her tightness slowly squeezing his softening cock.
As he felt the sensation fade, he pulled out of her and pushed her off the chair, letting her catch herself as she landed in the middle of the living room floor, her pants still around her knees. Grabbing her by the hair, he pulled her towards his crotch. "Okay, now clean up the mess you made." She looked up at him, pulling her head back, but not making any attempt to remove his hand from her head. "You can't mean you want me to..."
"That's right, start licking," he responded, as he pushed her back in and started to rub the side of her face against his dick. When she pulled back again, she looked up at him, and this time, their eyes met for a few seconds. When she looked down again, he felt her take him in her mouth, and she started enthusiastically running her tongue along the entire length of him.
"Is that good enough?" she asked, after working on him for several minutes. "Very nice, thank you," he responded, looking down at her, sitting on the floor in front of him, her jeans still wrapped around her knees. "Finish taking off your clothes," he said as he sat down facing her. When she was done, she looked at him hesitantly, her arms folded across her chest.
"Don't cover yourself up," he said, "I like looking at you." "I'm sorry," she said, as she complied. "It's just that I feel very vulnerable sitting here completely naked while you're still fully dressed."
"Maybe that's how I want you to feel," he said, grinning wickedly. She blushed. "You're different from when I used to know you."
"How so?" he asked, generally interested. You didn't often get an independent perspective on how you had changed over the years.
"You're... more confident. I could feel it in the way you took me. When you, ah,... your thumb..."
He chuckled. "Still haven't tried anal sex, eh?"No, I've made it very, very clear to everyone that entire area is completely off-limits."
"I remember you said that to me once."
She nodded. "That's what I mean. It didn't stop you."
He smiled. "I've known more submissive women since I first knew you. So I've had more practice reading them. And I still know you pretty well, especially your sexual preferences." She blushed.
He knew the answer, but he wanted to hear her say it. "So why didn't you stop me if you didn't want your asshole played with?"
She bit her lip and looked down. "You're different. I like letting you do whatever you want."
"Have you been dominated by anyone since I owned you?"
At the word 'owned' she turned bright red. He did remember how to push her buttons. "No," she said quietly. "No one I've been with has been into it," she said, brushing the hair from her face and looking up at him.
"Yes, unfortunately, it's a rarer fantasy among men than women. It goes against everything we've been taught about how to treat women. You throw out all the guys who can't walk the line between being dominant and being an asshole, and there aren't many guys left. Guys are too busy thinking about two girls."
"You ever done that?" she asked, curious.
"No, to be honest, it doesn't do much for me." They both paused.
"You were a very lucky girl once."
"I know," she said quietly. "Too bad it didn't work out."
He shrugged. "Shit happens. You move on. But at least I can still give you a wonderful afternoon."
She smiled. "So what are you going to do to me next?"
Reaching over, he lifted up one of her ankles, spreading her open. "Well, first we should get rid of that hair between your legs..."
He lost his grip on her ankle as she snapped her legs closed. She tried to backpedal as he lunged toward her, but he was on top of her before she could get anywhere. He was larger than her, and he had wrestled in high school, so it wasn't long before he had her arms pinned behind her as he wrapped his belt around them.
Grabbing her by the hair, he tugged her upward, watching her breasts bounce as she struggled to her feet. Once she had them under her, he started pushing her forward, leading her towards the bathroom, where he dumped her unceremoniously on the cold tile floor. He ran some warm water into the sink, then got his hand wet and started rubbing the water into her crotch, massaging her mound and rubbing her clitoris as he did so. He saw her eyes soften up as she enjoyed the situation, but her eyes went wide again when she saw him reach for the shaving cream. She started to close her legs a little, but a few firm smacks on her inner thighs changed her mind, and she opened back up and let him spread the shaving cream all over her pussy.
As he came at her with the razor, she looked him straight in the eye, with a tear rolling down her cheek. "Don't make me do this," she begged. | null | null | Authors/Hephaestus/txt/exgirlfriend.txt |
103,304 | Billie Shears | The Adventures of Cassie Daniels | Years Seven and Eight had been hell for Cassie Daniels. She had been the victim of every bully, every class joker, every spiteful P.E. teacher. When she returned to school in September to start Year Nine, she was resolved that this would change.
As the first week went by, she attracted little of the bullies' attention and began to feel as if her new attitude was working. By Thursday, she was feeling very confident walking down the narrow corridors of the school and was not phased when she noticed one of her former bullies walking the opposite way. In fact, she barely acknowledged the girl at all, keeping her face impassive. Inside, she was rejoicing silently, certain that this year was a much better year than the last and that it would remain so. Lost in these happy thoughts, Cassie didn't notice the bully's left foot veer into her path as they met, and before she could raise her hands in defense, she had fallen face first onto the hard tiled floor. She heard the snigger of two girls further along the corridor and the snort of the bully, now escaping behind her. Indignant, she drew herself up and, with only a moment's hesitation, spun on her heels and sped up behind the bully. She laid a hand upon her assailant's arm and spun her around, sending her foot behind the girl and pushing her backwards over it. The bully fell flailing to the floor, landing a reasonable blow to her head but apparently ignoring it. She was up again in seconds and swinging an angry fist towards Cassie's temple. Cassie ducked, shrugging her bag off her shoulders, and emerged to deliver a blow to the bully's own head. Blows were exchanged again and again, until, when the bully took a handful of Cassie's hair, Cassie's hands found her throat.
"Now, now!" came a booming male voice from behind the congregated onlookers, "What's going on here?" The bully immediately relinquished her hold, and Cassie, rather more reluctantly, also let go. "The little bitch attacked me, Sir!" The bully protested, as Mr. Edwards, Cassie's Year Seven English teacher, approached through the dissipating throng. "That's a lie!" Cassie defended, "She tripped me, she started it!" Mr. Edwards held up a hand to quiet her. "I think it would be better if we all took a walk to my office, and continue this in private." He led the way with the bully tailing him and Cassie coming dejectedly behind.
When they were all inside, he gestured the girls into two chairs facing his desk and sat down behind it. "Well?" he asked. "Cassie attacked me, Sir, she just came up behind me and pushed me over!" "She tripped me!" Cassie insisted, "I was just walking past her and she tripped me over!" "Sir, she's lying, I wouldn't do that." "Miss Reeves," Mr. Edwards smiled, "That is precisely the sort of thing you would do. And Cassie does not strike me as the sort of person to go around attacking people for no reason." "That's prejudice, sir, I don't do that anymore!" Reeves protested. "Nonetheless, fighting is against the school rules, Miss Reeves. You will stay behind after school, in detention." "No, sir, please! I've got to get home..." "You are dismissed, Miss Reeves." Reeves angrily gathered her bag from her feet and stomped out, scowling. As the door closed behind her, Mr. Edwards turned to Cassie. "Cassie," he sighed, "it is unacceptable to fight in school, no matter what cause you may have." "Please sir," Cassie pleaded, "I can't have detention, sir. I'm needed at home!" "I'm not going to give you a detention, Cassie." Mr. Edwards informed her. He stood up and moved to the window, where he began to close the blinds. "I am aware that your record at this school so far has been exemplary. You are never in trouble, your grades are always very high - except in P.E. -" he smiled, and having finished closing the blinds came around the desk and perched on the edge of it, "but you have broken the rules, and you must be punished."
"I don't understand, sir." Cassie said, puzzled.
"Stand up, Cassie." Mr. Edwards ordered. She did as she was told, and Mr. Edwards stood up too and took a step to his right. "Come here, please." Cassie hesitantly walked the short distance to his side and looked up at him. He was easily half her own height taller than her, if not taller still. He laid a hand on her shoulder and gazed down at her sternly. "In this school we do not permit fighting, Cassie, and you are going to learn that it is not acceptable to break the rules." He removed his hand from her shoulder. "Bend over my desk, Cassie." All at once Cassie was a little girl again, fully understanding what Mr. Edwards planned, but not willing to accept it. "Wh-what?" She stammered, eyes wide. "You will do as you are told, young lady, if you know what's good for you. I won't tell you again." Cassie hesitantly turned and lowered herself over his desk, flattening herself onto its cold, hard surface. She felt his hand press down on her lower back.
"I will teach you the virtues of obedience, Cassie, and I do not hope to hear any objection. I am going to spank you ten times, and I want you to count each one. Do you understand?" Cassie was speechless, her mouth gaping and her lip quivering. Mr. Edwards delivered a sharp slap to her thigh, visible below the line of her pleated skirt. "Do you understand?" he repeated. "Yes, sir!" she squeaked, as the sting in her leg shot up her spine. "Very good." said Mr. Edwards, proceeding to lift her skirt and lay it across her lower back. Cassie was paralysed with fear as he took the hems of her knickers and smoothed them out over her bottom. She waited silently for the first stroke, and soon it came, his entire hand cupping her left cheek and stinging her so thoroughly that she nearly forgot to cry out: "One, sir!" His hand was gone and the cool air embraced her bottom, encouraging the now fading sting. Soon again his hand returned to deliver a spank to her right cheek, equal at least in force to the first. His hand delayed as she squealed, "Ah! Two, sir!", and was gone, returning quickly for a second spank to her left cheek, which had almost stopped stinging. "Three, sir!" she breathed, though his hand was already in the air and shortly whisking back to deliver a smack to her right cheek. "Ohh, four, sir!" Cassie moaned, as Mr. Edwards' hand parted briefly with her bottom. On the fifth stroke, the third to Cassie's left cheek, she bucked and flung a hand behind her to protect her poor cheeks. "P-Please, n-no more, sir!" she stammered, rubbing her burning bottom.
Mr. Edwards unsympathetically grabbed both hands and pulled them behind her back. "How many?" he asked, patiently. "Please sir, it hurts, sir!" A barrage of smacks landed on Cassie's thighs so that she cried out in pain. "How many?" Mr. Edwards asked again. "Fuh-Five, sir." Cassie whined. She could feel tears welling up in her eyes, and when the sixth spank landed, harder than all those before it, on her right cheek, she felt one spill over and trickle down her cheek. "Six, sir..." she whimpered. The next spank was delivered almost immediately, giving her very little time to squeeze out another tear before she must groan, "Seven, sir". As the eighth smack landed on her right cheek, she could hold it in no longer and tears began flowing freely down both cheeks while the stinging in her rear neither abated nor decreased. "Eight, sir," she sobbed. Before the ninth spank, Mr. Edwards slid his hand across from right cheek to left and cupped it around the stinging orb. He pressed gently, brushing the opposite cheek with his fingertips as he did so, and causing Cassie to quiver, then pulled his arm away and delivered a sound smack that made a sound much like clapping, and doubled the sting in that cheek. "Nine, sir!" Cassie gasped through her tears. He rubbed her there for a moment, and slid across to her right cheek, where he paused again, pressing in gently before delivering another mammoth smack and sending Cassie over the edge, so that her tears churned forth in currents and she cried openly. "Ten, sir!" she wailed, slumped against the desk. He left her there for a moment, long enough that she became uncomfortable and sniffed away the last of her tears. "Stand up, Cassie." His voice was calm and soothing. Cassie straightened up, leaning against the desk for support, and wincing as her skirt slid over her tender bottom. She looked up at him with doe eyes, and he produced a tissue from a box on his desk. She took it gratefully and wiped away the tears still staining her face. He crouched in front of her. "Now, Cassie. I hope you will remember the rules in future, and that I never hear of your misdemeanor again. You're a bright student, and it would be a shame to waste that." She nodded, still sniffing, and he smiled and stood up. "Off you go, then." She picked up her bag and slipped out of his office.Cassie spent the rest of the day keeping her head down and trying not to wince too obviously when she sat down. As she left the school grounds that afternoon, she glanced at Mr. Edwards' office, but the blinds were drawn. | null | Chapter One, "First Offence" | Authors/whispers/cas01_first.txt |
103,336 | Silvanus Silvertung | Mine | You know those girls? The hot ones. The too hot ones. The ones you see in malls and on beaches who never give anyone a second glance? The ones that are too hot to be movie stars. The ones who are too hot to approach - yet when you do, drunk at a bar or dared by your friends, she says she has a boyfriend?
I am that boyfriend. Those girls are mine.
Keep your hands off them.
Once you might have had a chance. Once those girls were ordinary girls. Most of them were just on that edge - not beautiful enough to warrant attention, but not so plain as to build on other talents. Not bright enough to dismiss beauty as a sham. Once these were the girls who wanted to be beautiful. Wanted to be looked at as you look at them now.
Throughout the ages, I have sought out these girls. I have had my many girlfriends gauge the looks each woman gives them. Always envy, but how much? When she finds one, she approaches her, invites her. My girlfriends offer her time in their presence. It doesn't matter the excuse. The ones I seek will always drop everything. Soon they will drop their lives.
After she is sure, my girlfriends will take her with them. Sometimes a runaway, sometimes an assistant. She will bring the girl to me, into the great hall where she kneels before my throne. She will be surprised, shocked, by the women, as beautiful as her mentor in every color and range of beauty scattered naked around me. She will swallow in disgust at their open moans of pleasure - as they entertain themselves, but never an eye straying too far from my need.
She will look disgusted but still she will kneel.
Then I offer it to her. None have refused for we pick those we offer well. I offer her that she might be like them. In ages past, I told them I was a god, a spirit, a magician - the devil when the mood strikes. These days, I tell them I am a scientist, and with my technologies, I can shape her body any way I desire. She will ask at what price - plastic surgeries always come at a price she will think. In ages past, she will expect the devil to ask a price.
When I tell her, she will consider only a moment. Somewhere deep inside, every woman knows. Since there have been humans, I have been bending them to my will. Somehow that has translated, some instinct, some key in their genes tells them this is the only way it can be. Serve me. Pleasure me. Become nothing more than base instinct to serve under my command - and you shall be beautiful.
She will consider only a moment. Then she will agree.
It is the price I pay to change them that I must take them still plain. I come down from my throne and tell the girl I will sample her. In ages past, I told the truth, that in taking her, I unleashed my desires on her body, changing her forever - but girls now never believe. Instead, I turn her, two girls on either side already undressing her. Each woman knowing my desires - what stays and what goes. Each woman parting her legs and quickening between. Expert fingers play against this poor plain girl's need, like a master musician caressing a viola, low moans leave the girl's throat as she dampens to a waterfall. Ready.
Yet they are never truly ready. My kind are large. Women remember this too. Always seeking by instinct for one our shape and size, never truly finding it. As I move to enter, her eyes will go wide, and she'll look back. My harem will hold her as her body shrinks away. The dampness will be less, and as I slide in, she will always cry out, a wordless moan half pleasure half pain. The rituals of virginity a mere reenactment of this.
Plain though she may be, I will take pleasure in what I do. I collect women as others collect art or old wines, yet it is I who make them - an artist taking his brush to canvas, a vintner with each girl no more than the grapes I begin with, sticky and sweet. Each stroke grows easier as I probe into her - into who she is. I take her, and the beauty of her soul, and I draw it together into her womb. When her soul meets mine, where life meets life, she will change, wracking shudders taking her whole body. Nothing grows or shrinks. Nothing seems to change - yet when she turns to face me. I gasp every time. She will never be the beauty I expected. She will be the beauty I did not expect - perfect in her imperfection, every inch of her body coming together to make her beautiful.
She will turn. "Master" on her lips. She has sold her soul for beauty - and beauty is her soul.
She is mine.
So when you see those girls. The unspeakably hot ones. When you see them on the beaches or the malls. Do not think they lie when they say they are taken. They are mine, and I do not take trespassers kindly.
If you are a woman. Approach them. They will know what you seek.
If you will sell your soul for beauty.
If you will be mine. | null | null | Authors/Silvanus_Silvertung/Mine.txt |
103,652 | Sensory OverLord | The Research Subject | You arrive home after dark, fatigued after another long afternoon at the clinic. As usual, the hot, needy throbbing between your legs is only slightly reduced by this week's session of multiple mind-shattering orgasms, and it is distracting enough to make finding the front door key in the dark a little difficult. It is hard to feel for the right key in the bunch by finger touch when your sex is so firmly begging for touch. Already.
You get the door open and walk through to the kitchen, turning on the lights. You notice there's a slight abrasion around your wrist; the left one this time. You sigh. Long-sleeve blouses for a few days at work again. You wish they didn't have to do the cuffs up so tightly. But still, better that than no orgasms.
Setting your bag down on the bench, you open the fridge to decide on dinner. Hmmm... too tired to feel like cooking; probably leftovers then. Glad your SO isn't home tonight, no one else to think about feeding. Oh, and what about the rest of the Chinese you didn't have time to finish at lunch today, before your appointment?
You set out the containers of cooked rice and spicy chicken on the bench, and unzip your bag to dig out the Chinese noodles. The zip... an association with the sound of your jeans unzipping... no. Not tonight, not so soon.
Huh? What's this? Among your assorted junk in the large zip-up shoulder bag, there is a slim blue ring-bound folder of papers. You've never seen it before - how did it get there? You pull it out, mystified.
In its clear spine pocket, it bears a typewritten slip of paper:
"PATIENT CASE STUDY - Jean B. CONFIDENTIAL"
Your eyebrows rise - that's your name. How....? Some mix-up at the clinic? Not as if you are going to leave this unopened!
Inside the folder, the cover page is a bright yellow card:
***WARNING***
Document NOT to be shown to Patient under any circumstances.
Patient is highly suggestible, and exposure to these notes is considered very likely to exacerbate patient's condition. In all further contact with patient, she is to be assured that her condition is temporary, and certain to resolve or at least abate with treatment. It is felt she will be better able to cope with her condition if she believes that it will not continue indefinitely.
A wave of faintness makes you lean heavily against the bench top. What is this...? You had been assured your problem was treatable! Your life recently has been hell, ever since you read that damned story off the web. Well, not exactly 'hell', but very difficult. Complicated. Though you have to admit, your present situation has its upside. But it does make things like concentrating on your job very problematical. What does this mean, 'exacerbate her condition'? How could it get any worse? OH! On second thoughts, you suppose it could. If the sudden wild flare of heated tension between your legs is any indication. Damn! So soon... Your heart rate is rising too. Perhaps you should accept the warning and not read any more. .... After a moment's hesitation, you give in. As if there was ever any chance of your *not* turning the page...
Pre-Publication DRAFT, under review.
This document is CONFIDENTIAL, and remains the property of:
(An underlined blank area, that someone apparently neglected to fill out yet.)
Copyright (C) 2006, vested in the above.
THIS VOLUME IS COPY NUMBER three OF six
CONSIGNED TO: (another underlined blank area)
Consignee must ensure the confidentiality of this document.
Public disclosure of this material will result in prosecution, under Medical Health Privacy Act, 2003, Subsection 4, as well as Homeland Security bill, terrorist theft of IP rights.
PSAS* - A Fiction-Hypnotically Triggered Case
Presenting with Self-Conditioning Reinforcement
of Auto-Specific Anorgasmia
Authors:
Sponsored:
* Persistent Sexual Arousal Syndrome
INDEX
* Case summary.
- Background.
- Characterisation
- Review
- Prognosis
- Recommendations * Case analysis. * Proposed follow up studies * Grant application for follow ups. * Appendix: Supporting documents.
A. Patient consent forms.
B. Emails between patient and a pornography author,
C. Link to the relevant online pornographic story,
D. Relevant entries from the patient's journal,
E. Transcriptions of audio tapes from telephone contacts,
F. Transcriptions of consultations and therapy sessions,
G. Doctor's notes from all sessions.
H. Patient orgasmic relief protocol.
I. Clinical photographic records.
J. Pathology reports * Authors' prior papers on this case. * Citations
Case Summary
Background
Subject presented at initial consultation with request for standard pelvic checkup, while asserting general good health. Patient appeared flustered and breathless, with difficulty in expressing herself, and pronounced facial blush. Preparations for pelvic were begun, but halted for ethical considerations before physical contact due to pronounced patient genital arousal and inability to maintain her composure. Further verbal investigation was resumed, during which patient remained on the examination stirrups, apparently finding this position to be helpful in overcoming her reticence to discuss her (now visually obvious) difficulty.
Once the nature and seriousness of her complaint became apparent, Patient participated in frank discussion of options for investigative procedures. The ethical and legal situation was fully explained to her. Patient agreed to, and signed all necessary consent forms, after carefully reading them.
Thus began the lengthy investigations detailed here. These have involved numerous investigative and therapy sessions, still ongoing. Her case is apparently unique in the literature, and appears to present significant potential for advancements in the study of human sexuality.
This document is a review of the case to date, in support of and in conjunction with proposal for funding of continuing study.
Characterisation
Patient is female, aged 32, height 5' 8" (173cm), physically fit. Sexually active, previously easily and multiply orgasmic. Married, in loving relationship, but in which she tends to not receive satisfactory sexual attention due to partner's (alleged) lower than average libido. Patient compensates by reading Internet pornography in conjunction with masturbation, and sometimes seeks casual partners online. She is somewhat suggestible, has prior experiences with hypno-sexuality. Never previously experimented with prolonged orgasm denial.
Review
Patient's history narrative indicates a narrow margin of sexual responsiveness abatement upon orgasm. She reports her post-orgasmic arousal to have been always very easily maintained or re-stimulated. On some occasions in recent years, arousal is reported to have occurred spontaneously, unassociated with sexual activity, for unknown reasons, and for significant duration of time. Intervals ranged from approximately three hours, to two days in one recent case, with resolution occurring either spontaneously, or via masturbation to orgasm. This history suggests a tendency toward PSAS (Persistent Sexual Arousal Syndrome) though until recently still outside that categorisation.
Analysis of her self-reported sexual history over time suggests that this margin may have been diminishing - that is, she had been developing a tendency towards greater intensity and persistence of arousal signs.
In many reviewed cases the mechanism of PSAS has not been convincingly identified as either physical or psychological. Indeed, there is evidence that the syndrome may result from one or more interactions between those two. In Patient's case, it appears that she was possibly in process of becoming PSAS-prone before she recently exposed herself inadvertently to an unusual work of erotic fiction. The written story, in conjunction with an associated audio soundtrack purported to convey a hypnotic-suggestive meme involving libido increase and persistence combined with orgasm blocking hypnotic-suggestive directives.
Whether the orgasm blocking portions of the meme might have been taken up by the patient's subconscious in other circumstances is unknown. However, Patient happened to identify with the fictional plot closely enough to deliberately withhold her orgasm for a lengthy duration of self-stimulation, during and immediately subsequent to her exposure to the story and audio content.
The result was that due to genital masturbation fatigue, she found herself unable to orgasm when she eventually chose to achieve relief. This had the unfortunate effect of strongly reinforcing the 'orgasm block' suggestions in the story. She believed she had been 'ordered' to be unable to orgasm - a self-fulfilling belief, even if unfounded.It should also be noted at this point that the authors have no evidence to support or disprove the hypothesis that such a hypnotic 'no orgasm' directive could actually be effective.
It is surmised that this state of intense sexual tension, combined with her inability to orgasm, exacerbated her pre-existing PSAS tendencies. The effects were self-perpetuating - the longer she remained aroused, yet unable to orgasm, the more her frustration, the greater her conviction that she was now unable to achieve orgasm by her own efforts, and the further entrenched became her persistency of arousal.
Possibly there may be underlying physiological changes as well, consequent to unusually prolonged and pronounced vascular engorgement of the clitoro-genital region. Although the proportional contribution of physiological vs psychological factors, and precise nature of those contributions to her condition are unknown, it manifests as virtually permanent, maximal sexual tension. There is full involvement of all sexual organs and secretory glands, accompanied by marked fixation of Patient's attention upon her condition. Described by Patient as a "never ending desperately aching desire for unobtainable relief."
Her 'certainty' of inability of achieving orgasm does not involve an aversion to normal intercourse, self-stimulation, or an inability to heighten her arousal by genital manipulation. On the contrary, she reports, and regularly demonstrates in therapy sessions, that she is fully capable of masturbation, and does so often. However, despite being able to bring herself to a point (and past it) where orgasm should naturally occur, it does not.
In terms of research, that condition is most rewarding to study. It appears that her physiology does indeed arrive at a condition so far indistinguishable from the very onset of orgasm - and then halts there, in a state which is normally very fleeting. In Patient, this 'infinitesimally removed from orgasm' condition can be maintained for considerable lengths of time, and is thus accessible to detailed study. In actual fact, it is quite persistent on its own, and even if Patient ceases her self-stimulation, it has been observed to last up to 37 minutes. These episodes leave Patient still aroused, and even less satisfied than before. Despite this unrewarding outcome, if left to herself, Patient will be driven by her need for relief to repeat the experience several times a day.
As was demonstrated in the experimental sessions, it is possible for Patient to experience orgasm still, but only when stimulated by other persons or mechanisms in scenarios in which she is unable to influence the proceedings. Apparently, this situation bypasses her now deeply ingrained subconscious belief that she cannot herself achieve orgasm, due to the 'instructions' of the story she read. [Ref App. C.] In the scenario of that story, her ability to orgasm is totally dependent on a specific interpersonal power relationship, in which she is convincingly 'forced' to do so. To all practical purposes, her conviction in the story's truth seems indistinguishable from the reality of her body's responses, hence the experimental protocol. [Ref App. H.] By those means, Patient can be very easily and rapidly brought to orgasm, as well as a variety of maintained orgasm plateaus and repeated orgasms, via the various known mechanisms - clitoral, vaginal, g-spot, etc.
Such episodes of induced orgasms provide Patient with temporary relief from an otherwise near-permanent sexual arousal and intense feelings of physical frustration. However, the intervals of such relief can be brief, and seem to be diminishing over the interval of observation so far.
It should be noted that her husband is not an assertive type, and apparently is unable or unwilling to assume the role model Patient finds necessary to 'force' her orgasm.
Patient's condition can be categorized as:
* PSAS, auto-erotic orgasmically challenged.
* Physical vs psychological basis unknown.
* No gross physical abnormality detected.
* Genitalia well formed and trim, all within norms except for clitoral development, which is in the upper limits of statistically normal size.
* No known neurological impairment.
* X-ray and ultrasound imaging within normal limits; all clitoral structures typically engorged and vascular involvement prominent.
* Blood factors within normal ranges.
* Oncological assays: negative.
* STDs: negative.
* Psychological state: Stressed, stemming from persistent sexual arousal and orgasmic insufficiency.
* Some social and concentration impairment due to intensity of arousal effects.
* Otherwise healthy.
[Hand-written note in margin: "This reminds me of that Monty Python sketch 'the lethal joke'! This one is the 'horn bug story'!"]
Prognosis:
Her condition is not life-threatening or likely to lead to physical complications. Some social functional impairment results at present. While not greatly significant under existing circumstances, this factor may become an issue if other aspects of her situation deteriorate. One positive side effect is a subtle 'glowing aura of intensity' she now exhibits.
The core problem is her continuing sexual frustration, and her conviction that her inability to orgasm is due to her having been 'ordered' to deflect from orgasm. Since this self-reinforces whenever her sexual frustration leads her to attempt relief via (always unsuccessful) masturbation, which can be several times per day, the conditioning has grown immovably strong.
Extensive and innovative attempts to decondition her (and thus allow her to relieve her frustration herself) have failed to achieve significant results.
It appears that hopes for spontaneous recovery (to a more normal sexual state) are faint.
Apparently, her partner cannot be relied upon to provide her with relief at all, let alone often enough to fully allay fears of frustration-induced psychological damage, and may even respond to her increased needs by complete withdrawal from sexual relations.
Recommendations:
Due to her generally high arousal, which rises very markedly in situations where she has an expectation of being brought to orgasm by another, it is difficult for her to ensure the use of either pregnancy or contagion protection.
Thus, she is considered to be at multiple risk: both to her psychological well-being if she abstains from or cannot find satisfactory partnered sexual relations, and to unwanted pregnancy and potentially fatal disease consequent to sexual relations beyond her marriage.
It is therefore proposed that the patient be considered a special case under the Health Insurance Scheme, and that so long as her unusual condition persists, funding be allocated to continue provision of therapeutic sexual relief on a regular basis, under the controlled medical conditions found to be effective. [Ref App. H - 'Patient orgasmic relief protocol']
Legal opinion obtained on this matter maintains that under the present legislation, the Patient would have strong grounds for suit against the Health Provider, for failure of due care and reckless and knowing endangerment of her health, should such funding be denied her. The matter of frequency of 'regular basis' appears to be open to legal debate, however, it is possible that if brought before the courts, the verdict could be very much in Patient's favour. Possible ongoing costs could be high, and the legal precedent unwelcome for budgetary and public relations reasons.
An alternative means of providing for Patient's continued well-being involves granting government health research funds to support ongoing studies involving Patient's condition. Such research can be arranged to involve adequate protection of Patient's mental well-being, via either controlled provision of appropriately managed sexual relief at suitable intervals, or close and continuous supervision by qualified professionals. In discussions with Patient, it has been determined that she is prepared to bindingly forgo her rights to Health Provider funded services, dependent upon such an arrangement involving continuation of present research studies and agreements.
In that light, referring to the existing release forms [Ref App. A] signed by Patient, consider that the patient undertook a binding consent agreement with the authors of this paper that she consigns all decisions regarding her treatment and care to the authors, for the duration of their research into her condition, in return for their efforts to determine the nature of that condition. Thus, if at some point in the research, the authors feel it necessary to take her into full-time care, they may do so. Likewise, the frequency and manner of her 'relief' may be chosen by us at will, including complete withholding for any period we deem necessary to the research and her long-term well-being.
Presently, we feel frequent provision of relief is beneficial to our investigations. However, it is also clear that at some point, investigation of Patient's solid conviction of her inability to self-orgasm will have to be tested against a lengthy (possibly indefinite) interval of orgasm withholding. Since self-stimulation presently achieves only reinforcement of her own belief in its futility, this too would be disallowed. Protracted total sexual abstinence under controlled conditions is considered a treatment option worthy of exploration, both for insight into the psychological aspects of her condition, as well as the opportunity presented for controlled study of the physiology of Persistent Sexual Arousal Syndrome over an extended interval.
The matter of a cure, being impossible to guarantee, is not stated as a prerequisite in the contract, only a theoretical objective.Likewise, her 'enjoyment' or general comfort and composure are explicitly granted to be secondary matters to the primary objective of investigative research, as is the crucial point of 'incidental harm'. Legally, this is fully sufficient to cover more speculative investigations, such as testing the resilience of her orgasm block via constantly maintained high levels of sexual stimulation over long orgasm-free intervals, regardless of her objections.
Patient has contracted to continue to participate in the research, unconditionally and for its duration as determined by the authors, with large financial penalties for withdrawal, as well as a physical enforcement clause. Investment of funds and effort in the project to date and in the future are thus fully protected.
Naturally, due to the nature of her condition, Patient also signed the standard waiver of rights to modesty, as well as agreement to any and all explicitly sexual procedures, and in addition to necessary physical restraint. Additionally, Patient signed a Confidentiality Agreement covering all aspects of the research program, in effect for the duration of continuing research. It is significant to note that this agreement is non-mutual, in that all collected research materials, including interview and therapy session audio-visual recordings, may be published by the authors as they see fit.
The Research Grants Board should note that Patient's regular appointments for therapeutic procedures are on the Wednesdays of each week, at 1 pm, at the authors' rooms. Such procedures are conducted in an area with the usual one-way observation mirror and soundproofed comfortable viewing compartment from which an observer may monitor proceedings. Up to about 15 observers, actually. Tea and biscuits can be provided.
There's more of it. By now, you've sunk down onto one of the kitchen stools, panting, the folder on the bench top as you flip through it, dazed and shaking. Random phrases you've just read ricochet around in your mind: 'hopes for spontaneous recovery are faint', 'binding agreement', 'orgasm withholding', 'full-time care', 'extended interval', 'constantly maintained'. Flipping, the folder falls open at Appendix H, and you resume reading. As if you aren't quite familiar with this part.
Appendix H
Patient Orgasmic Relief Protocol
*******CONFIDENTIAL*********
Details of the treatment protocol determined via experiment to reliably allow Patient-X to achieve effective orgasmic relief of sexual tensions, within a one-hour therapeutic session.
Notes:
This treatment may be considered extreme and/or morally dubious by some, due particularly to the aspects of non-consensuality, physical restraint, and discomfort involved. The reader must be aware that these aspects are required, due to the peculiar nature of Patient-X's condition, and that without them, she simply cannot achieve relief.
As stated elsewhere, her difficulties include a deeply held, persistent, and self-reinforcing belief that she 'is not permitted' to achieve orgasm by any action of her own. Consequently, the protocol is required to provide not just an impression of loss of volition, but actual, realistic and fully evident loss of volition. If the patient feels in any way able to influence the course of events, she is unable to orgasm. Furthermore, her loss of volition must be forcibly demonstrated to her, in a manner that speaks to her deeper unconscious mind. Anything less simply does not bypass her 'mental blocks' against orgasm. This presents a logical quandary - the patient desires orgasm, and so desires to submit to the treatment protocol. But in this sense, by submitting to treatment, she is acting of her own will to achieve orgasm - and so cannot. Only once she desires to NOT continue with the protocol, yet is forced to continue anyway, can her desired orgasm be reached, contradictory though that may seem. The logical resolution is provided by the imposition of painful yet harmless stimulation to sensitive zones, such as the buttocks and breasts. Only once the discomfort of this component is sufficient to convince the patient that she has changed her mind, and would rather stop the treatment, in the process foregoing orgasmic resolution, can further sexual stimulation achieve the intended result.
There is thus a fine balance between the patient's rising sexual tension during the intervals between treatments, and her aversion to the expected discomfort involved in achieving relief. Even with this balance, there is a contradiction - the longer the interval between treatments, the more intense her PSAS symptoms grow, and hence the greater her desire for relief at commencement of the procedure. Thus, the more intense the applied 'discomfort' must be, before that desire is overcome, till she wishes to cease the procedure, and hence can be 'forced' to continue on to orgasm and subsequent (temporary) relief of her physical symptoms.
Consequently, it has been determined that the patient responds best if the entire cycle is presented as mandatory - that even the scheduling of treatment sessions be set with no choice on her part, and with a degree of coercion. At present, the treatment protocol is set at once weekly, with no rescheduling allowed. If she misses a session, she has to wait a further full week till the next, and the threat of termination of treatment altogether. As well, the first session after a missed appointment involves a modified 'recalibration' protocol, which she knows may potentially fail to bring her to orgasm. Despite beginning with an extended 'discomfort' routine, followed by prolonged sexual stimulation, thus guaranteeing her a very difficult further week till the next treatment session.
Protocol
Sessions: Once weekly.
Session duration: * Standard Routine:- one hour. * 'Recalibration' Routine (first after missed session):- two hours. Scheduling: Patient is informed peremptorily after each session of the next session time, and warned of consequences of missing an appointment.
Standard Routine
- All proceedings are 'in camera', and recordings archived. Patient is aware of this via the consent forms.
- On arrival, patient is admitted to the treatment room and required to disrobe in the presence of the female medical assistant and one or more of this paper's authors (male, MDs.)
- Patient required to mount examination stirrups.
- Speculum inserted, expanded, initial internal exam. Speculum left in place throughout the following.
- Patient firmly secured in mod-gyno stirrups. Wrists, ankles, neck, waist. Body tightly stretched, spread-eagled.
- Vital signs monitors attached.
- Verbal exam- report on week's activities and state.
- Standard exam, quantification of genital state, clitoral & g-spot erection, photo record.
- Speculum removed and replaced with balloon probe, vaginal static and pulse volume and elasticity, etc.
- Application of genital stimulators.
- Initial responsiveness measurement run, continued up to the point where orgasm should (but doesn't) occur.
- Apply robotic phallic thrusting and clitoral vibratory stimulation, using a standard device.
- Maintain verge-of-orgasm state for 15 minutes.
- Apply 'discomfort' (paddle spanking robot) to buttocks, while continuing genital stimulation.
- Continue with increasing severity till the patient expresses a clear and strong desire to cease the treatment.
- Cease spanker, increase genital stimulation to full. Continue without let-up for the remainder of the treatment hour, with stimulators set for brief power reduction after each orgasm but rapid rebuild to full, and spanker set to cut in again whenever a subsequent orgasm does not occur within five minutes of stimulators ramping up to full power. Spanking halts at each orgasm.
- At the end of the session, halt abruptly, remove attachments and dismount the patient posthaste. The assistant to dress the patient hurriedly (outer garments only, no underwear) and remove her to the public reception room immediately before she has time to freshen up. The receptionist to inform the patient clearly and sternly of her next 'orgasm therapy session' in front of other patients in the reception.
'Recalibration' Routine
As above, except genital stimulators set to drop back to low power at some random point short of orgasm, then ramp back up once arousal has dropped significantly. Spankers cut in if arousal above 50%, and stimulators on low power only; stop both spanking and all stimulation if arousal approaches orgasm. Continue this regime for the full duration of the treatment, then stop, regardless of the patient's wishes.
You close the folder, unable to cope with more of this just now. Among the whirlwind of thoughts and feelings in your head, one hangs still for a moment, incongruous in its neutrality. 'Well, that explains those couple of hair-tearingly frustrating times you weren't able to come, the next week after you'd missed an appointment.' The ache between your legs is very strong now. Throbbing and damp, you can feel the slickness seep into your panties, your jeans. Already your nipples are rigid - this usually doesn't happen for at least a couple of days after your clinic sessions. A long, shaky sigh - it's going to be a long, frustrated week. Till next... till next... But this...? Can you go back? They are... they think they can do... they can treat you like some kind of experimental animal! "Uuuuunhh!" You gasp, bending forward till your forehead rests on your hand on the folder, your other hand gripping your knee as your hips grind on the stool. Oh, an experimental animal.... why does that thought make your sex convulse so intensely? ... 'regardless of her objections' they say here. Surely they can't? Yes... yes they can. They will. And you'll... you'll...You think of the videos they have - hours and hours of naked, bound and heated, screaming sexual abandon. You think of just not going back next week, and... and... not getting to come. If only you hadn't ever read that damned story! Look where it's brought you - on the brink of admitting to yourself that you _are_ an 'experimental animal'. That somehow, the very thought of being in this position makes your insides melt.
There's more in the folder yet, but you get the idea already. Why did someone put this in your bag? You guess they were testing you. Or teasing, toying with you. But really, they know what you will do. Next Wednesday, you will be there at 1 pm, sharp. The Research Grants Board will enjoy their fucking tea and biscuits and live action porn. And you... will get what you need too. For quite some time. | null | null | Authors/SensoryOverlord/texts/The_Research_Subject.txt |
103,780 | Peregrinf | Dee Saves the Program | Yeeowwww! That water was cold!
Whirling on my assailant, I showered some bystanders. Missy shrieked and twisted and capered in my stinging spray, her adorable little boobies with their raisin nipples dancing merrily. She totally lost control of her nozzle, wetting down others I missed. They didn't mind. After all, it was a hot spring day, and they had been warned. The instructions handed to each driver in line are specific: make sure all windows are tightly closed and exit your vehicle at your own risk. We will not be held responsible if you get hosed. A carwash is five dollars. The shower is free.
Even pedestrians have been known to run like kids through a lawn sprinkler. They get a freebie soaking, but there's always someone handy with a towel and a donation bucket.
Hey! One secret of our fundraising success is the fun we have! Water fights are guaranteed.
During our brief skirmish, Missy and I did manage to sluice away some of the suds we were supposed to be removing from a soon-to-be-gleaming SUV. Never mind that I also caught some of my classmates as they rubbed and scrubbed.
Another reason for the popularity of Central High's Naked in School Annual Fundraising Car Wash was that we were totally naked, male and female alike, graduating seniors all. Included among us were my lunch bunch, swim team members, and sundry other luminaries. Two naked cheerleaders were out by the curb waving signs, bare breasts bouncing invitingly. Not that they were really needed -- the cheerleaders I mean. Breasts are standard equipment on cheerleaders.
We had so many vehicles backed up into the street the police were directing traffic. We didn't lack for volunteer washers, but the gas station had room for only so many hose connections and cars. You'd think after years of Naked in School Outreach people would be immune to such openly displayed charms, but the event never failed to draw a crowd. And believe it or not, in spite of our frivolity, we were getting a lot of cars washed and raising a ton of money for the local chapter of the Missing and Exploited Children Foundation.
And whose bright idea was this endeavor? Central High Emeritus Luminary Matt "Mongo" Mozilla, shortly before he became "emeritus" by graduating four years ago. I'd been hoping he'd be here as a spectator or customer, but I guess his schedule at Harvard hadn't cooperated. He'd suggested it back when I was chairing the SACNISP meeting the Monday after I'd triumphantly planted my foot on Pastor Paul's humiliated ass.No more dressed than any of us, I took a moment to appreciate her attributes. She is buff!
"That's why I'm paid the big bucks," she observed with a shrug that jiggled her assets enticingly. I think she did that deliberately.
"Maybe you should ask for a raise," Heather suggested.
That brought a laugh, and I started feeling more optimistic. I sat back to let them bat the idea around for a few minutes before asking for a motion. While Retta was still dubious, the proposal was approved on a trial basis for the rest of the year.
As I'd hoped, Matt jumped on the plan to also solve his problem: using The Program for punishing non-Program involved violations, like general bullying or disrespect. Some people who have already had Program experience seem to look for an excuse to get naked. Some masochistic urge, maybe. If they wanted to get naked, all they had to do was strip without the hassle.
We'd suggest whether putting the offender in The Program was appropriate from our perspective. It was agreed that the chances were high we'd recommend against. Even though this removed a favorite weapon from a teacher's arsenal of disciplinary choices, it just wasn't right! Mrs. Devers thought the teachers would go along with us -- at least on a trial basis. They could still hand out extra assignments or detention, or take away privileges. Just the threat of a visit to Mrs. Devers's office was often enough to nip trouble in the bud.
Corporal punishment had already been taken off the table.
Though she and I hadn't actually discussed it, I was pretty sure Mrs. Devers would use these procedures as examples to push her student court. Why The Powers That Be hadn't approved it for the high school since the middle school already had it was a mystery. At least we'd avoided SACNISP suddenly turning into a de facto court.
The last big issue still on the table was deciding reasonable request disputes. Those came up relatively often, particularly with freshmen early in the year. There was always some dork who wanted to test the limits. Normally the Program Coordinator would decide, but a replacement for the Worm was still mired in the bureaucratic swamp of the Federal Office of Social Awareness. Again, I suggested assembling an ad hoc subcommittee to rule on the spot, based on program guidelines. That passed as well, putting more of The Program's fate in our hands, freeing Mrs. Devers from resolving those disputes.
All that had been four years ago, and only that last idea hadn't worked out. It was too slow and cumbersome. Since we still didn't have a Program Coordinator, Mrs. Devers was stuck with those decisions. No one in the Social Awareness chain of command wanted to take the risk of appointing another pedo. Using that incident, certain Congress-critters are still trying to repeal The Program outright.
As for Mrs. Devers's Student Court, the local PTB are so firmly on the fence they have pickets up their asses. They keep saying "maybe next year," but she keeps trying. The woman has the patience of a saint and the tenacity of a pit bull.
I swooshed the sponge-load of suds over the next car in line, enjoying the memory of that meeting, and the sun on my bare back -- and other parts of me.
Then I bent over to wash a hubcap, giving the peanut gallery a moon view of my tight bottom, and Wow! Some wise-ass hit me right in the butt with a big sponge that had been soaked in ice water.
That got my attention, I tell you.
When I looked around, my boyfriend Lance, about twenty feet away, was studiously polishing the outside mirror on a Mazda, looking suspiciously innocent. An open ice chest was right behind him.
Why was a South High student here? Since he and I were on track to different colleges, we do all we can to be together despite our conflicting scholastic loyalties. He'd done his stint in South High School's program, of course, and was as willing a participant in my activities as I was in his, even going so far as to openly consort at swimming meets.
But getting back to that long-ago SACNISP meeting, after we'd dealt with the old business, I presented our new problem.
"We've gotten rid of the Restored Temple yada yada yada..." I pointed out to the committee.
"And good riddance," Matt interrupted. "Jeez! Pedophilia, child pornography, sex trafficking..."
Wielding my gavel, I ruled him out of order. When I went after the pedophiles, I didn't realize I'd only grabbed a loose end. I'd pulled one tail on a ball of snakes, unraveling an extra-large-shit-soaked sweater of corruption, to mangle a metaphor beyond redemption. In addition to the sex charges, the church's leadership and others, including local politicians, were accused of fraud, conspiracy to commit murder, bribery, extortion and racketeering. The state was investigating the board of assessors, the building codes office and zoning board. In addition to interstate child pornography and sex trafficking, the Feds were digging into money laundering and God only knows what else. The mayor and half the city council have suddenly decided they're not running for reelection, saying they want more time with their families.
Maybe they'll be allowed conjugal visits.
Regardless, I really did not want us going there. If word got out of my involvement, the next thing I'd know I'd be in the witness protection program living as Enid Guntz in Great Falls, Montana.
"That's someone else's problem," I pointed out. "Without The Restored yada yada, we're still left with all these well-meaning people picketing and demonstrating. Many are deeply religious, or at least claim to be, maybe they're sincere. Most of 'em equate nudity with sex and sex with sin and see the Naked in School Program as a license to fornicate and a threat to society. They're not well-organized, so there's no one point of attack. Dealing with them is like trying to swat a swarm of mosquitoes."
"Let them demonstrate," Max suggested. "What harm can they do?"
Mrs. Devers picked up that one. "Plenty. They're pressuring the school board, city hall, and anyone else they can, even the governor, to shut The Program down. That it's a Federally mandated program only irks them more. Some people are even blaming it for what went on at the Restored Temple yada yada."
I thought Heather was going to explode. "That's -- that's like blaming the rape victim instead of the rapist!"
Matt rested a calming hand on her arm. They made a nice couple. Too bad it would never go beyond friendship, he being gay while she's still dealing with memories of The Worm.
Mrs. Devers nodded. "I agree. That's reprehensible, inexcusable, but not the real problem. The danger is that the Board of Ed or someone else might just cave in. With Washington dead in the water, there's no help there. As it is, other states and localities have already taken The Program to court."
"And?" Retta asked.
"And, not to get too deep in the technicalities, a local judge issues an injunction against the program. On appeal, the next one up the food chain lifts it. It just ladders up from there. It'll be fought all the way up to the Supreme Court, which may take years."
"We don't want to wait for that," I put in. "If we can change the minds of enough of these people, we can ease the local pressure, maybe even encourage other districts to follow our example, building enough popular support to keep The Program safe from these morons. The question is, how do we do that? Any ideas?"
"Counter demonstrations?" Mike Collins suggested, giving his thumbs a rest from taking the minutes. "We've got the numbers to put on quite a parade."
Mrs. Devers shook her head. "All counter demonstrations do is raise the noise level. People wind up yelling at each other, no one listens, and sweet reason is the first victim."
"As for a parade, Bessie's Resurrection Ride didn't exactly endear us to commuters," I reminded him.
"Don't they realize we're just kids, trying to figure out the world?" Samantha asked. "Most of us, once we've gone through The Program, appreciate what it's done for us, and most parents are more than grateful as well. If nothing else, they avoid having to give 'the lecture.' The numbers on stuff like teen pregnancies prove its value."
"Nobody pays attention to numbers. We need more concrete favorable publicity," Matt suggested. "Something to counter the nay-sayers."
Wondering why I couldn't just keep my mouth shut for a change, I admitted I knew a friendly reporter at the newspaper. She'd gone through the program with Carl's class and interviewed me after Bessie's ride.
"Unfortunately, that's what led to my GabFest appearance," I added. I'd barely escaped with my reputation intact, such as it was, thanks to some fast footwork on Mom's and my part.
"What do you mean 'unfortunately?' That got people talking and changed a few minds," Matt pointed out.
"And thinking," Heather added. "What about another appearance?"
"Been there, done that, I am not going to do it again."
I quickly changed the subject. "It bothers me, too, that we've still got kids quaking in their socks when they're called up for The Program, especially in the freshman class. Maybe they wouldn't be so scared if they knew what it was really like. When was the last time the school paper did a story on The Program, something to take the edge off in here?"
"It's been a long time," Mrs. Devers admitted. "Now that it's well established, it's old news."
"How about a regular series to un-scare them, some puff-piece like 'My Week in the Program'?" Heather mused. "I can suggest it to the editor. Maybe even a photo feature, interviews with participants at the end of their week. They could put a nice glow on it."
"That's a good idea, but be careful," I warned. "Honesty is the best policy."Make it warts and all, the good, the bad...."
"...and the ugly," Matt finished for me.
"I beg your pardon, I resemble that remark!" Max Wang tossed out, bobbing his eyebrows up and down in his best Groucho Marx imitation. Given his ethnicity, he's about as Groucho as Chairman Mao, so he always draws a laugh with it.
At least we were moving again! I was marveling at how much getting something accomplished boosted morale.
So we made plans for a publicity program -- I'd take on the newspaper, Heather the broadcast media.
"Publicity is fine," Walter Miflin mused when that was done, "but we've been studying in civics how most people only read and watch stuff they already know they'll agree with. It makes 'em feel comfortable. If we want 'em to pay attention to our way of thinking, we need to grab 'em by the ears."
"Maybe if we could meet them on their own turf, one-on-one, face-to-face, we'd get somewhere. Where do they congregate?" Samantha (never call her "Sam") asked.
"That's easy. 'Congregate' is the right word," Retta Jones observed. "A lot of them are good church-goers -- my church, for example. It's full of 'em, including the pastor."
"How'd they handle you being in The Program?" Max asked.
"They didn't. I wore my Sunday go-to-meetin' best rather than face them naked," she admitted, a bit ashamed. "And I skipped the Wednesday youth meeting."
A light went on in my head.
"How many of us have been to church at all in the last six months?" I asked, raising my own hand.
Retta raised hers, as did Heather, Samantha, and Mrs. Devers -- four out of nine.
"Naked," I added, keeping my own hand up. All the others went down.
"You went to church naked?" Max Wang reacted.
I didn't want to admit that it had not been exactly willingly. Rather than go into details, I said I'd gone with a friend to Mass one Sunday, and she'd dared me to be naked. Actually, I'd been handcuffed to Maria. It's only a little white lie, okay? But I'd do it again.
I got to the point. "Try this on for size. We all begin going to church -- any church -- naked. I've done it. Beth Finch did it the year she was in The Program. She even did a reading and gave a little -- what do they call it? -- a homily. Nothing confrontational, just go as worshippers, respectful, polite...."
"And naked?" Retta asked dubiously.
"Naked. It's legal. If anyone asks, we explain why we are naked. I know it takes guts. They'll gape, but with church attendance as low as it is, the pastors may not object. We might even bring in voyeurs who don't normally go. Churches will do almost anything to get the people in to fill the pews and the collection plates. If someone does get bent out of shape, just leave quietly, but show up again the next Sunday, and again, until they give in.
"Encourage your friends who're in The Program now or who have been in it to do the same thing. Take a friend along with you -- there's comfort in numbers. If you don't have a church of your own, go to whatever church you want, but spread it around. We need the exposure -- pun intended."
Chuckles.
I shut up to let them talk that over for a while, until they seemed to agree to try it, even discussing who would take which church. I promised Retta I'd go with her to her church.
Go team!
You got it!
"And Outreach has fallen off, we need to revive it," I went on. "Some businesses that used to offer discounts to naked or even semi-naked customers don't anymore. I pay for my Brazilian wax jobs by getting them done in the front window of the Minute Spa...."
"Well, yeah!" Retta countered. "But everyone knows you're an exhibitionist!"
"And proud of it," I admitted to the laughter. "The fact is, the salon is doing better than ever.
"Look," I went on. "Alphonse, the guy who runs the salon, told me some places that used to encourage NiSers have given into threats of a boycott. He stood up to 'em 'cause he likes me and I bring in business.
"I'm not saying we should try to crash a boycott, though a sit-in is tempting...."
"Just remember to take a towel," Mrs. Devers suggested dryly.
I laughed and nodded. "If the sign says 'No shirt - no shoes - no service,' wear a crop top and sneakers. Challenge them.
"Also, make it a point to patronize businesses that accept you naked, that have stood up to the opposition. Be proudly naked. Take friends with you, naked or not. If you go in a place even just to look, try to buy something and thank them for serving you. Pass the word on who supports The Program to people you know so they make it a point to go there -- naked or not -- and have them mention that they like the pro-Program attitude. Again, encourage your classmates. Maybe we can initiate an informal counter-boycott."
"Take The Program viral," Mike suggested.
I could feel the enthusiasm building. "Any other ideas? We need to prove we're a credit to the school and the community."
Matt was looking thoughtful. "How about some kind of a fundraiser?"
"We don't need funds," Mrs. Devers pointed out.
"We don't, but how about some charity that does?" he countered, toying with his pencil. "Last year the football team and the cheerleaders raised a bundle for the youth football program with a carwash."
"And the cheerleaders weren't even naked!" Heather put in.
"Why not?"
"It was held at that convenience store less than a block from Guess Who's church. When he heard 'naked cheerleaders,' he mobilized his thugs -- I mean his congregation," she noted ruefully. "We felt threatened."
"Well, he's out of the picture now," Matt pointed out. "This time we do it naked, all of us. The station is willing. It brings in customers."
Heather nodded. "This time it's to benefit the American Center for Exploited Children. They actively support the NiS Program. We should support them."
"If it works, maybe it could become an annual thing. The senior class's spring community service project," Matt tossed out.
The motion was made, seconded, and passed unanimously, subject to approval of the senior class, of course, which was a given with Matt behind it.
"While we're at it," Mike Collins put in, "how about each class's NiSers develop their own annual naked fundraiser, something that draws public participation, and do it for some local charity. We frosh could do a fun run for the Scouts or the Y or sports programs that need funding...."
"Try to make them children-focused charities," I suggested.
By then I sensed the ball was rolling full steam -- there I go, mixing a metaphor again -- and I let it roll.
Now that I'm a senior, I see the result all around me - Central High's Fourth Annual Senior Class Naked in School Charity Fundraising Car Wash.
Jeez! That name's as bad as the Restored Temple of the Holy Redeemer Reformed Evangelical One True Church. Forget I said it.
As a freshman, I ran in my class's 5K Naked Fun Run for the benefit of Youth Soccer. That's now also in its fourth year, this time raising money for the summer softball league. As a sophomore, I'd served -- nude, of course, except for a health-department-mandated hair net -- at the Rotary Club's pancake brunch that ran all morning.
That was a multiple charity event. The homeless got showers at the nearby Salvation Army shelter, and ate for free while their laundry was done for nothing by more naked sophs at the Wash-O-Mat. The way the homeless ate, we were lucky everything was donated or we'd have lost money. Everyone else paid, and the proceeds from that benefited the Rotaries' exchange student program.
Her dad being a Rotarian, that whole thing was organized by Missy with her mom's help.
As a junior, it was The Swim for the Kids Relay, again open to anyone, nudity encouraged. It turned it into an all-day skinny-dip. It was organized by wannabe doctor Inez of my lunch bunch. All proceeds went to the Candy Striper Teddy Bear Giveaway. At her urging, we visited the kids in the pediatric ward, in the buff of course, handing out stuffed animals, toys and games and visiting with the kids, talking with the parents that were there. Some of us wound up helping out the parents, delivering hot meals to their homes, babysitting siblings to give mom and dad a break.
Now, some of those kids... well, 'nuff said. I loved 'em all, and some of them are no longer with us, dammit.
Remembering the wet sponge attack, I'd been filling a bucket while keeping an eye on Lance, adding ice from my own nearby cooler just to make it more interesting. When I had the bucket nearly filled and he was distracted, I picked it up, trying not to spill too much. Some spectators were watching, so I put my finger to my lips to keep them quiet while I tiptoed theatrically in Lance's direction. They began nudging their neighbors and pointing, and pretty soon I had the attention of almost everyone but Lance.
It was a biiiig bucket, one of those ones paint or spackle come in. Five gallons.
You know those Gatorade showers that football coaches get when their team wins? Imagine getting one of those when you're stark naked.
Have I ever mentioned I'm a strong girl? I suppose I have, and tall, too. I'd finally topped out at six-foot-two -- taller than Elaine had estimated when I'd seen her for my first gyno exam, taller than Lance, though he denies it -- and I wanted optimum revenge -- massive retaliation.
I sneaked -- snuck? -- up behind my dreamboat. The crowd grew hushed as I raised the bucket, the suspense building.
Lance was so busy getting bird poop off the windshield he didn't notice a thing. Holding the bucket high, I got him to straighten up by saying oh-so sweetly and seductively "oh Laaaannnnnce darling."
He straightened -- started to turn -- and I tipped the bucket.Rather than just dumping it, I poured it over his head, gallons of ice water cascading down, ice cubes bouncing off his head and shoulders.
His eyes bulged, his chest heaved, and his mouth gaped like a fish out of water as he fought for breath, the water and ice still streaming down, a few ice cubes even sticking in his hair before being sluiced away by the last dribbles. His penis, half erect from the naked displays around him and, I like to think, my seductive presence, instantly shriveled to the size of a peanut, while his testicles did their damndest to vanish up inside his abdomen.
Now, class, this is very important, so pay close attention. When the human body is suddenly immersed in cold water, breathing stops, the metabolism drops to nearly nothing, the pulse is suppressed, and circulation is limited almost entirely to the brain and lungs. It's called the dolphin reflex or mammalian diving reflex, and while the victim appears dead, it can be a lifesaver. Even after being completely submerged for half an hour or more in near freezing water, victims -- especially young children with a low body mass -- have been successfully revived. For that reason, you should never ever give up on mouth-to-mouth resuscitation or CPR until an experienced trauma physician formally declares the patient dead.
I learned that in my lifesaving course.
I was afraid I'd overdone it with the ice. For a moment, Lance was a statue, Michelangelo's David without the sling -- or a visible penis, for that matter.
When he got his breath back, his whoop was heard for blocks, along with some words that would have vastly enriched the curse jar had we been at my house.
Of course, I had been prepared to initiate mouth-to-mouth, but once I was sure he was breathing again, I dropped the bucket and took off, dodging in and out among the spectators, the cars, and the car washers with him in hot pursuit. Well, maybe not exactly hot. I bet even his nipples had goosebumps.
The crowd loved it, cheering us on. The car washers interrupted their work to add their voices to the chorus, hosing us down as we sprinted past.
After his icy shower, that water probably felt hot to Lance, but not to me.
I finally let him catch me right where I'd intended, center stage between car washers and cheering spectators. Screaming, I struggled, uselessly of course because he is so much stronger than me. In the end, I gave a little hop so -- ahem -- I mean he tossed me over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, where I kicked my long legs in front of him and ineffectively pounded on his muscular back with my fists. He, of course, proceeded to quite effectively spank my naked ass, much to the audience's enjoyment.
And mine. It was all in good fun. The pursuit and physical exercise having visibly restored his reproductive equipment to full functionality, he spirited me away, still kicking and protesting, to a place where we could consummate the foreplay he'd initiated with that sponge.
The restroom's sink felt almost as cold on my butt as the ice water must have on him, but that did nothing to chill my ardor. I spread my legs wide as he directed his burgeoning phallus at my already oozing cunt. Hard as it was, his cock was still cold on the outside, while I was hot and ready on the inside, and what an interesting sensation that was! Sort of like a sweet and sour porking, or a Baked Alaska screw you might say.
He proceeded to give me a jolly rogering right there in the gas station's ladies' room, the friction of cock and cunt quickly banishing the last of the chill down there, the cold hard faucet poking me close, oh so close to my asshole, but I couldn't quite manage to get things lined up.
For sanitary reasons, it was probably just as well.
What with the teasing we'd been giving each other all day, it was pure animal sex. His body was still chilled from the dousing I'd given him, so I did my best to warm him up by wrapping myself around him like a blanket. His lips were cold, but his tongue was hot, and I breathed warm air into him while he pumped his cock into me, rocking my world, until he filled me with hot, hot come, and my body burned from the inside out.
Oh, I was going to miss him so much! After graduation, we'd have the summer, and then....
I didn't want to think about it, so I concentrated on storing every scrumptious sensation away to be brought out when I was lonely.
Or horny.
After a suitable period of cooling down and cleaning up, we emerged from the restroom to rejoin the carwash, just in time to help with cleanup, rolling up hoses, emptying buckets, washing suds off the pavement.
From there, it was a subdued stroll down the street to The Church of Christ the Teacher, formerly the home of the unlamented Restored Temple of the Holy Redeemer Reformed Evangelical One True Church, formerly the neighborhood's Baptist Church. The carwash was one of the last milestones of our time together at Central High. Commencement was only a week away, and everyone was feeling kinda nostalgic.
At the church, Missy's Mom greeted us. The organizer of our post-carwash meal, she was not naked like we were -- she'd loosened up a lot, but that was still far outside her comfort zone. Some of the servers at the buffet were bare. Her greeting was sincerely warm and welcoming, her hug for me especially affectionate. To say there had been a dramatic change in our relationship was putting it mildly. The day of that memorable SACNISP meeting, Missy had asked me to come over, that her mom wanted to see me.
I remembered how I'd agonized -- to dress or not to dress, that was the question. Whether 'twas nobler in the mind to smother myself in layers of fabric, or bare myself to the wind and weather and risk a reception so hostile I'd be forever banished from my sweet BFF's house. I'd utterly demolished the woman's spiritual guide right in front of her. She'd placed her faith in the hands of a charlatan and a pervert, and I'd exposed him for what he was.
In the end, I decided she should take me as I am, warts and all, as Matt would say. My clothes remained in my backpack as I rode Bessie, the wind having its usual joyful way with my exposed flesh. Still under the Bard's spell, I found myself thinking "once more into the breach" as I headed up Missy's front walk. I wasn't sure I wanted to be one of those English dead piled high on the ramparts, but sometimes you just gotta do what you gotta do.
"She's upstairs," Missy directed after we shared a warm hug.
"You coming with me?"
She shook her head. "She wants to see you alone. Dad's still at work, but he'll be home soon."
She wouldn't say any more, so I trudged up the stairs, trading Shakespeare for Dickens, feeling maybe like that guy in A Tale of Two Cities on his way to the guillotine. What was it he'd said? Something like "it is a far, far better thing" and yada yada yada.
What was I supposed to do? Apologize for what I'd done? I couldn't honestly do that, since the sonofabitch had gotten exactly what he deserved, and I was glad I'd been the one to give it to him.
But then I realized I could at least apologize for what it had done to her. That I did regret.
I tapped softly at the closed bedroom door. "Mrs. Wilson? It's me, Dee."
Her "come in" was barely audible.
She wasn't as much of a mess as I expected, but she wasn't as carefully turned out as usual, either -- no makeup, dark circles under her eyes. The bed wasn't made. Normally everything around her was just perfect.
She'd always been thin, in a way that I thought of as all sharp angles. She still was, but it was like the angles had softened, melted, sagged. I guess you could say this had taken the starch out of her.
She didn't comment on the fact that I was naked. Without even thinking, I put my arms around her. She stiffened, and I almost let go, feeling I'd made a terrible mistake, but she slumped against me, put her arms around me, laid her hands on my bare back, rested her cheek on me below my chin -- yeah, I was that much taller -- and we just held on to each other for a while.
At least she didn't cry. I wasn't sure I could have handled that.
"I was such a fool," she whispered, her breath brushing my flesh. "How could I have been such a fool?"
I thought that over. "You weren't the only one," I finally ventured. "He was -- very convincing."
"But you knew what he was, didn't you, from the start. You weren't taken in."
I sighed. "If it hadn't been for Missy, I might have been."
That surprised her, and she drew away to look up at me. Then together we settled on the soft white floral patterned satin spread covering the bed. She let my revelation sit in our laps while we contemplated it, my arm around her thin shoulders. She felt as fragile as glass.
I remembered what that service -- was it only a week ago? -- had been like. That sermon, or whatever it was, had been like a riptide at the beach, one of those things that carries swimmers out into water over their heads before they know it. I'd almost been swept out with the congregation. Missy had been my lifeguard. Her touch had somehow gotten me out of the flow and back to sanity and reason.
"When he called for people to come to the front, to accept his message, I almost was taken in," I admitted to her. "He was so -- I don't know -- convincing? I guess that's what the word 'charismatic' really means. He -- it was like we were all swept up and just carried along by his -- I don't know the word I want...."
"Eloquence?" she ventured thoughtfully. "Rhetoric."
"I guess that's the word. The only reason I didn't go right along with you, and the rest, was because Missy put a hand on me, and -- woke me up -- I guess you could say. She was my lifeline."
"She knew."
"She knew. She was anchored, maybe because her Sunday school teacher had...""Well...."
"I should have listened to her. Why didn't I listen to her, my own daughter?"
"It's hard to believe anyone would be like that, and he was a real spell-binder."
"I went to church yesterday -- what used to be the church," she announced softly.
"Wasn't it all wrapped up in that yellow crime-scene tape?"
"It was. But I wasn't the only one. We -- had to see it to believe it, I guess. There were only a few of us, and we had to sneak in.
"I suppose if we'd been caught we would have been arrested or something. We didn't care. For a while we all just sort of sat there, scattered around in our customary seats. It was quiet -- no organ or choir. Quiet. I'd never heard it so quiet. The only sounds were our breathing, maybe a cough, the creak of a pew when someone shifted.
"Always before there had been music, or preaching, constant noise. I realized that had been part of the problem -- you couldn't hear yourself think. I suppose that was deliberate on his part. For a change I could listen to nothing, my mind blank. Nobody said anything. For a long time, maybe half an hour, we just sat there.
"Then something made me want to -- move down front, to the steps going up to the altar, and I knelt there. I didn't pray, I just knelt there. And by ones and twos the others came down and joined me, all of us kneeling along the steps like we were waiting to take communion. For the longest time we just knelt there."
I didn't say anything. I almost held my breath with the feeling that maybe something good -- something other than having the bad guys locked up -- might come out of this yet.
"Then, still without a word, we all got up and sneaked out. The Assistant Pastor was outside, talking to the police. I guess he kept us from being arrested. Somehow he'd avoided being sucked into that whole awful mess. I don't know why Pastor Paul hired him, he kept the poor boy pretty much under his thumb, though some people went to him for counseling rather than Paul. Now I understand why.
"He invited us to his quarters for coffee. He's young, not long out of the seminary, kind of quiet. For a while he held Bible classes for the adults Wednesday nights while the children's choir rehearsed, until Pastor Paul told him to stop. Probably because he -- Jeff, his name is Jeff -- has a different slant on the scriptures. Instead of this whole being saved thing he had us discussing the teachings of Christ, the lessons; love thy neighbor, do unto others, blessed are the meek, the peacemakers, the story of the Good Samaritan. We explored the meanings behind the parables, the Sermon on the Mount.
"He thinks that maybe that's what Christ really meant when he said that the way to the Kingdom of Heaven was through Him. Not that all you need to do was believe in Him as the Son of God, that He died for our sins, that by that we're forgiven and guaranteed to go to heaven. Jeff thinks -- no, suggests -- that the way to heaven is by living the way He tried to teach us."
While my own ideas of God and heaven and hell were still pretty nebulous, I told her I liked that idea.
"He said it is deeds that matter, more than beliefs, that for that reason the door is open even for non-Christians. We should have listened to him, instead of that snake!" she finished venomously.
"We're going to try to keep the church going with him as pastor. We'll change the name, of course, to something simpler."
"That's a good start!" I blurted out.
She laughed. She actually laughed. "I agree."
Then she sobered. "It won't be easy. We're probably broke. The finances are a mess, and the government may try to take the buildings -- fruits of a criminal enterprise or something like that. Actual ownership is a bit tangled, but one of us is a lawyer and says he thinks he can sort it out. There are good people there, the ones that are left. Maybe we'll have to sell off the old school, but we think we can pull it off."
"That's good," I said, giving her a little squeeze.
"Dee, how can I ever thank you? I owe you my life, and my daughter's life at least twice over."
"Mrs. Wilson, you don't need to thank me. I love Missy more than life itself."
I didn't go into detail of how I loved her of course. Mrs. Wilson was a lot better, but she wasn't ready for that!
Instead I went on. "I'm sorry you had to go through -- last Thursday. I wish there had been another way, at another time, another place, so you didn't have to see it. I didn't intend for that to happen when I came over. I was just there to support Missy. But sometimes things just -- seem to happen around me."
She gave me a reassuring hug. "It's just as well that I was there or I might not have believed you. You showed me what a vile person that man was. You don't hate me?" she asked hopefully.
I gave her another squeeze, resting my head against hers for a moment, like maybe we could exchange some brain cells. "Of course not. How could I? You're Missy's Mom. You love her. Missy loves you. I love Missy. I guess it's like algebra or logic or something. If I love Missy and she loves you then I love you. It's a package deal. I know things have been rough between you and Missy, but I'm sure they'll get better."
Missy was glad to see us come downstairs together, holding hands. After sharing a three-way hug I'd left for home, feeling a lot better.
Now here we are, after four years, breaking bread in The Church of Christ the Teacher. The congregation is small, but growing with Pastor Jeff preaching his message not from the pulpit, but with a cordless mike, walking among the worshipers.
I've attended with Missy -- both of us naked of course -- and always felt welcome. Terrell Ford, the Dirty Dozen's musical prodigy, young as he is, is the organist and choir director. Missy's mom is -- I guess you could call her chairwoman of the board. She's in her element, and she and Missy are getting along better than ever. When the meal was over all of us helped with the cleanup of the basement that's now the church's social room. In the end they had sold off the school to pay off the debts.
Pastor Jeff, in a tattered, sleeveless Princeton sweatshirt, pitched in, elbows deep in soapy water. He washed, I rinsed. I'd gotten to know him well.
"Have you started packing yet?" he asked me puckishly.
"No, but I've got 'Old Nassau' memorized."
To say I was looking forward to college was putting it mildly. I was jumping for joy. He'd interviewed me, recruited me, actually. An undergrad at Princeton University he'd gone on to the Princeton Theological Seminary for his Master's. When I once asked him how he'd let himself get sucked in as Pastor Paul's assistant he wryly answered, "He talked a good game."
"Didn't he though," I'd agreed.
By then, the furor having died down and we'd both laughed. He still had no idea of the part I'd played.
But before I took that next big step into the unknown came Commencement.
"Got your invocation written yet?" I asked him.
He handed me a plate. "Working on it. Got your commencement address written yet?"
"Working on it."
We both laughed. | null | Dee STP 25 | Authors/peregrinf/Dee Saves the Program/Dee STP 25.txt |
103,977 | sourdough | My Crotch-Sniffing Dog | You've heard of drug-sniffing dogs and you've heard of bomb-sniffing dogs. Well, I have a crotch-sniffing dog. Now wait a minute here, you're probably thinking. What's the big deal? All dogs go around sniffing crotches. That's true, but my dog has been specially trained to sniff out and identify fertile, human females ready to be fucked into motherhood.
This isn't some science fiction story about some dog that rapes and knocks up women. No sir! I'm the one who knocks them up. My dog Spike just points the right ones out to me, so to speak. Heck! Spike couldn't fuck puppies into a bitch. He's fixed, you see. I got him at the animal shelter. They're the ones who insisted he be neutered before I "adopted" him. Well, I got him for his nose, and neutering him didn't hurt that any.
By now I'm sure you think I'm a complete bastard, and you'd be right. But if my story is interesting, so what? Just bear with me for a bit.
I was born and raised in a working-class environment. I won't bore you with the details of my early life since it's not important to my story. My father was a drunk, and my mother was a dutiful wife. I was the oldest in a family of three sons and four daughters. When I turned 16, I was told to quit school and get a job to help support the family. Well, I quit school, but when I walked out the door to find a job, I never returned.
I drifted from odd job to odd job until I was 18. I then got a job driving a truck, and I've stuck with that type of work ever since.
I'm not ugly, but I'm not exactly a charmer either. My success with women was always hit and miss. I usually accepted rejection like a gentleman, but my one pet peeve was for a woman to string me along while expecting me to spend time and money on her. One time I'd spent a whole paycheck to wine and dine this bitch. We went to this exclusive nightclub after dinner where there's always a ton of people waiting to get in. I tipped, or rather bribed the doorman a hundred bucks to get us in. Not ten minutes after we were seated, the bitch let herself get picked up by some other guy and dumped me! Needless to say, I was pissed.
I got my revenge by raping her. Knowing her habits and schedule, I caught her alone where it was dark and deserted. I came up from behind and grabbed her. I then threw a bag over her head, shoved her into some bushes, and tore off her clothes. Raping her was pure pleasure. I porked her mercilessly. Since she couldn't identify me, I got away clean.
Later, when I heard she was pregnant by her rapist, I couldn't have been more pleased. In fact, I nearly came in my trousers just thinking about it. My career as a rapist had begun.
Think about it. I saved a ton of money on dating and could pick and choose my "dates." The most attractive women were accessible whether or not they were married or had a sweetheart. The only drawback, of course, was if I were caught, I'd be probably spending the rest of my life in prison. That possibility didn't stop me, although I tried to be as cautious as possible.
Within a year, I'd raped several more women. I knocked up a couple of them, and that's when I realized the biggest charge I got was when I knew my victim was going to give birth to my bastard. My big fantasy now was to impregnate every woman I raped. Well, how do you make sure the woman you want to fuck and impregnate is fertile? How do you know you're not risking everything for a woman who's on the Pill?
It's impossible. I've read plenty of those online stories where the heroine gets knocked up so easily. This is not so in real life. It was a puzzle I was determined to solve.
Despite being a high school dropout, I consider myself pretty smart. If I'd completed high school and gone on to college, I might have made something of myself. I love books. I spent countless hours in public libraries in a program of self-education in the arts and sciences. I became well-informed, and I can hold my own in conversations with many professionals regarding their own specialties. In all my research, I never ran across a way to test a woman's fertility without resorting to blood or urine analysis or checking body temperature. For my purpose, none of this was tenable.
I was sitting in a bar one day nursing a beer. There was only one other patron in the place. I was watching a piece on the television news concerning the use of drug-sniffing dogs at the U.S.-Mexico border.
"They should have dogs who could sniff out women who were ready to have a baby fucked into them," I said. I was talking back to the television out loud.
"It's possible," said the other customer who was sitting a few stools away from me. "Dogs right now are being trained to detect certain diseases in humans. The results have been very encouraging. Since every organic compound gives off a signature odor, the dog can be trained to signal its handler when it detects the odor that we're looking for. Healthy people have odors just like diseased people. I think a dog could be trained to detect the scent of a healthy adult female at the peak of her fertility cycle."
Now this guy definitely had my attention. I introduced myself and bought him a drink. He turned out to be a biochemist. His name was Gustavo, and once he warmed to his subject, he was hard to stop. I didn't want to stop him. I was an eager listener. The company he was working for was one of many trying to develop devices, which could detect the presence of compounds down to a few parts per billion. The Holy Grail of this research was to develop a detector as sensitive as a dog's nose. The dog's sense of smell is immensely more powerful than a human's. This goal is still years away from realization.
I asked Gustavo if he could synthesize the odor emitted by a healthy ovulating female. He said it had already been done by a colleague of his and offered to get me a sample. He never even asked why I wanted it. Gustavo was a problem solver and loved to help people. I'm sure he would have been horrified if he had known my intentions.
After exchanging information with Gustavo, I started calling around to various centers that trained detection dogs and their handlers. Virtually all of them dealt with drugs and explosives and couldn't understand why I wanted a dog trained for one scent. I finally started telling them that I wanted a truffle-hunting dog. Truffles are a rare type of fungi that are used in gourmet food dishes. They grow underground. Dogs and sows are used to smell them out.
I was finally referred to a semi-retired trainer who was willing to work with me. He didn't care what kind of scent the dog would be trained for. He's the one who took me to the animal shelter and picked out Spike for me. He had a good eye for dogs and felt that Spike would be a perfect candidate for training.
I live a fairly Spartan existence, so I had plenty of money saved. Since I had to undergo training as a handler as well as participate in Spike's training, I quit my job. It all set me back quite a bit financially, but the results were worth it. Spike and I hit it off pretty well with each other. With Gustavo's sample in hand, we started our training. Twelve weeks later, our trainer declared us a fairly competent team.
After a bit of field-testing and dry runs with Spike, it became obvious that some adjustments would have to be made in his training. For one thing, no woman likes a dog sniffing at her crotch. I know! I know! Duh!
Spike had to learn to do his crotch sniffing from a safe distance. I discovered that most women weren't even aware of Spike until he was within five yards of them. Eventually, he learned to stay out of this awareness zone. Spike could still get the needed scent if he was downwind of his target. He also learned to just sit and wait for the target to walk by.
Spike responded well to my whistles and hand signals from a distance, so he knew when to stay and when to move on without me having to get close enough for me to get noticed. If I was ever arrested, I didn't want Spike to be connected to my activities. As far as anyone was concerned, the dog was just a pet. I had a good friend who would take care of Spike and make a good home for him if anything happened to me.
The only thing I couldn't teach Spike was my tastes in women. He was scent-oriented, and I guess they all looked alike to him, but he never failed to signal me when he caught the scent. His signal was a pawing of the ground with his right foreleg.
Once I was satisfied with the adjustments I made in his training, I took Spike to a dog-friendly park for some serious prospecting. He immediately got to work.
The first potential Spike identified was a young teenage girl. She was a pretty little thing. As much as I would have loved to put a baby in her belly, I decided to pass on her. You see, the cops are basically pretty lazy. They wait for a guy to make a mistake or otherwise fall in their laps before they make a move.However, when a youngster is a victim, the cops get energetic and start doing real police work. For that reason, I lean toward women who look at least old enough to buy a drink.
Spike did some more exploration, and for one reason or another, I had to pass on the bitches he identified. Usually, it was because they had company, either children or another adult. Some of them just weren't to my taste. On our second lap through the park, we hit pay dirt. A vision of beauty walked by Spike, and he signaled me. She looked to be in her early twenties, 5'7" and about 125 pounds. The bitch had a slim waist, wide hips, and a nice set of breasts. I knew right there that I wanted her. She would bear healthy children and be a good mother. Before another hour had passed, I wanted this bitch to be carrying my seed deep inside her body.
The future mother of my child had shoulder-length brown hair and a light complexion. She was wearing sunglasses, a casual top, loose-fitting slacks, and walking shoes. She was carrying a small purse hanging from her shoulder and a paperback book. It looked like she'd just arrived to relax and read. I signaled Spike to go back to my pickup truck. There, he had access to food, water, and his favorite chew toy. He would sit there patiently and wait while I attended to business.
Because of the nature of my quest, there's an urgency to act in a timely manner. I just can't wait and follow a bitch around until she's in a convenient place for me to nail her. There's a certain amount of risk I have to take. Even waiting a little while might cause her to fall out of optimum fertility.
I thought I lost my chance when my bitch sat down in the open. There was no way I could get to her there. Luck was with me when some kids started playing soccer nearby. Disturbed by the noise and proximity, my bitch moved off into a wooded area on her way to the other side of the park, which was usually quieter.
I entered the woods from a different direction and stationed myself where I knew she must pass. I concealed myself and prepared my rape kit. It consists of latex gloves, a ski mask, a lubricating gel, and a tranquilizing spray powder. The latex gloves are to prevent me leaving fingerprints behind. The ski mask, of course, is to hide my face. The gel is to provide an easy entrance when I start to fuck my bitch. Quite often, my victims are still dry when I first penetrate them. It's uncomfortable trying to fuck a dry cunt. After three or four strokes, the cunt starts producing its own lubricant, and then the gel isn't needed. The powder is something I discovered in Mexico. It's making its way through the criminal underground there. It's not yet known in the U.S., but when it is, I predict that it will become the date rape drug of choice. The drug has acquired a nickname, but since I don't know Spanish, I just call it Dust.
Dust is inhaled. It gives the user an euphoric feeling. For my purposes, it lowers my victim's resistance and makes her more pliable. With the exception of my very first rape, I don't like to struggle with my bitches. It leads to the possibility of injury, both for myself and my quarry. Really, it's for the same reason I don't mess with minors. A battered rape victim gets the police and public all worked up. With the exception of a belly full of sperm and a few grass or dirt stains on their clothes, I like to leave my victims a lot like I found them.
I was ready for my bitch by the time I saw her strolling down the path. I grabbed the beauty from behind, all right. She drew in breath to scream and got her lungs full of Dust instead. I held her mouth and dragged her off the path and behind some bushes. I held her until the drug did its job. It only takes a few seconds.
"Don't fight me, and you won't get hurt," I whispered. I didn't expect an answer. Complete disorientation can last for as long as two minutes, and all I got was a moan in response. I searched her for weapons and alarm devices. I found a cell phone but no whistles, pepper spray, knives, or other weapons. I took the time to fondle her breasts. Yeah, they were nice ones, all right. I would love to do the same thing when they were filled with milk. I had peeked at her driver's license when I searched her purse, so I already knew her name and address. Karen is a nice name. She was wearing a wedding ring, so I guess she was married.
I stepped away for a second to retrieve the book she dropped. Interesting title. It looked like a horror novel. There was a picture of a damsel in distress on the cover. This girl's experience in horror was going to be real life, not some vicarious thrill out of a book.
I knew I'd chosen a nice private place for my encounter with Karen. The area was scattered with discarded condoms, so I guessed other "lovers" were not afraid of being disturbed in this area. Karen was lying flat on her stomach. I pulled her up to a crouching position and pulled down her slacks and panties. This seemed to wake her out of her drugged state a bit, and she began to struggle, although listlessly and ineffectively.
"Please don't do this. I'll give you all the money I have," she pleaded.
"Don't worry about money," I responded. "I'm not charging you a thing."
Karen didn't seem to appreciate my attempt at humor. She wiggled a bit harder when she felt my penis nudge aside her labia and penetrate her. I always anticipate another attempt at a scream when I start fucking them. This bitch was no exception. I grabbed her around the mouth before she got much more than a squeak out.
"You don't listen very well. The next time you make a sound above a whisper, I'll gag you and tie you up. Would you like that?" Karen shook her head as best she could. I let go and went back to concentrating on the task at hand.
Karen's snatch felt nice and tight to my penis. She was no virgin, but I didn't care about that. In fact, I don't think I've ever fucked a virgin cunt. When I started my in-and-out, Karen went limp, as if that would deny me pleasure. I guess she thought that no guy would enjoy fucking a piece of dead meat. Hell! I didn't care. She could have pretended to be asleep, and it wouldn't have bothered me. My pleasure came from the knowledge that my sperm was going to penetrate her egg and start a baby growing inside her.
I like my sperm to do the job nature intended it to do. That's why I'm not into oral, anal, or facials. If I have the time and inclination, I'll fuck my victim again, and all of my sperm will wind up in her snatch.
I heard someone's steps coming along the path. This wasn't good. I stopped fucking Karen and held my hand over her mouth again until I heard the steps fading. It was time to finish up and get out of there. I sped up my pace until I felt my penis swell and begin to squirt my cum into her reproductive system. Karen felt it also and just whimpered. I pushed her back down flat on her stomach and just lay on top of her.
"I love you, Karen," I whispered. "I've always loved you." She appeared startled. Was her assailant someone she knew? I wasn't going to enlighten her. I pinched her nose with one hand and gave her another dose of Dust with the other. This allows me plenty of time to get away. Trying to be a gentleman, I pulled Karen's panties and slacks back up around her waist. I stepped behind a tree, removed my mask and gloves, and stowed them. I stepped back on the path and wandered casually back to my truck, where Spike awaited my return.
I had already arranged to take a load of farm equipment up to Bakersfield. When Spike and I returned, I checked the newspapers for any mention of the rape, but there was none. This is not unusual. Very few of my rapes have been reported to the police. The few rapes that have been reported made no mention of a man with a dog.
I can't claim that every one of my rapes since I started working with Spike has resulted in a baby, but my percentages are up. Karen was one of the successes. I try to keep track of my bitches, and I know she had a baby at the right time. The baby has my hair color. Karen must have convinced her husband that the baby was his. I have over twenty sons and daughters now. Almost all of their mothers were crotch-sniffed by Spike.
Spike and I had the opportunity to thank Gustavo for his help and inspiration. I became a close friend of Gustavo and his wife Clara. Clara was trying to get pregnant but hadn't been successful yet. I was in their backyard talking with them. Spike was wandering around, but then I saw him signal me. Clara was at optimum fertility.
"Is she pregnant yet?" Clara had returned to the house, and I was alone with Gustavo.
"No. Not yet." He shrugged his shoulders.
"Right now would be a good time to try."
"And how do you know that, my friend?" He sounded irritated, and I was afraid that I had insulted Gustavo.
"Because Spike knows."
He looked at Spike. It took a few seconds for him to understand, but then he started smiling. Spike and I left so that Gustavo could take care of business. Their first child was born exactly nine months later. | null | null | Authors/sourdough/My Crotch-Sniffing Dog.txt |
104,523 | Jack Woody | Your Little Girl (A Short Story) | You decided it was time for your little girl to feel a cock penetrate her for the first time. You have done well, getting her ready for this final plunge into the world of sex. She has learned to love the sensations she feels in her body during foreplay, and she has fallen in love with the overpowering rapture of orgasm, having stronger and longer-lasting climaxes all the time, needing them just as you did when you were her age. Yes, you have taught her well.
You know how much I love your little girl, how beautiful and precious I think she is. And you also know how hard she makes my cock every time I see her. You know how I dream of being inside her, how I ache to feel her cute little body make me cum, deep inside her.
And so, you have decided to bring the two of us together. To let your little girl meet your friend and have the two of them make love for the first time, giving each something they have never had, something they will never forget.
Each time you mention her to me, instantly my cock grows so hard. I always have to wrap my hand around it and start stroking it, running my hand back and forth over my tightly swollen cockhead as I think of her. How quickly those first few drops of precum race to the tip of my cock, forming that bead of wetness that will soon begin dripping down along the cleft between my jutting glans, dripping down to my hand, where the steady drip will begin coating my whole cock with lust for your little girl. It is always that way for me. I always feel that need for her take over my whole body, until my whole being is nothing but that of a hard throbbing cock, covered with the wetness of its desire for your little girl.
I know the pleasure it will bring you to see your little girl's naked body making my cock so instantly hard! It will remind you of all the times you were that little girl, making cocks grow hard and wet for you. And when you see her open little slit touch against the wet tip of my cock as she straddles me, you will be reminded of the feelings inside you as a little girl, with all those hard cocks touching your hungry little slit, poised to push up inside you and make you cum.
I know your fingers will already be inside you, feeling the wetness seeping out from that place deep inside that needed to feel the love those cocks were, to you. You will watch your little girl, and you will be her, as you watch my cock stretch open her soft pouty lips and push up inside her for the first time.
I will be watching her to see the look on her face as she feels my big hard cock penetrate her tight little cunt, deeper and deeper, until it's all the way up inside her, rubbing against her soft little cervix. I want to remember that moment forever.
Even if she doesn't move a muscle and keeps herself still, pressing herself down onto my cock, that may just be enough to make me start cumming in her, shooting every drop of hot cum my body can find for her, until I am empty.
I can't imagine needing any more than that to make me cum! I'll just hold her little body down on me and let her make it happen.
I'm going to LOVE being so deep inside her, and LOVE feeling her tease my cum out until it's shooting as hard as it can shoot, right into her!
And I know you'll be right there, beside us, cumming as hard as you ever came when you were the little girl straddling the hard cock. | null | null | Authors/Jack_Woody/Little Girl Stories/Your Little Girl .txt |
105,222 | I.M.S. | Lover's Sex Slave | You see, I have been married for ten years to a loving but submissive man who allows me to seek dominant sexual satisfaction elsewhere. His only request is that I write about my exploits so that he has new material with which to masturbate. I call them "Meat Beating Stories." This is my latest tale.
On that day five years ago when I knelt in front of my lover and voluntarily placed a black leather collar around my neck, my life changed forever. The choice to begin my extensive training as a full-time sex slave was not an easy decision. Now, after five long years, this obsession had become a full-time lifestyle from which I now receive great happiness and satisfaction.
It was late December as I sat on a rug next to my lover. I call him my master at his request. Another evening of total servitude was about to begin. My master had finished his meal, which I had prepared, and was sitting on the couch watching a program on the TV. I am required to remain on the floor naked, collared, and with my head bowed until he summons me for his pleasure. I did not have to wait long as he snapped his fingers and pointed to his crotch. "Slave, we are going to play a game tonight. Let's see how many loads you can drain from my nuts this evening."
"Yes, Master," I replied. I crawled around the couch and began to remove his shoes and socks. When his feet came into view, I began to suck the big toe of each foot, treating each toe like it was a small cock. After a few minutes of foot worship, I asked my Master to remove his pants and underwear so that my cocksucking efforts could begin.
My Master has a beautiful cut eight-inch cock nearly three inches in girth. The head expands just before he comes, it is so cute. I began my oral worship by burying my face into his wire pubic hair, drawing in the manly smell I have come to love. Looking up, I ask him, "Master, may I begin to suck your balls now?" With my mouth beginning to water, he nods, and I begin to slowly tongue his large hairy balls. I open my mouth and suck his left testicle deep into my mouth, sucking softly. I can feel the firmness and know that several loads of tasty cum are waiting to be tasted and swallowed. Sucking harder now, I reach up to stroke his hardening cock. I can feel the cockhead begin to leak pre-come on my fingers. I switch to the right testicle and suck harder, content that his pleasure is mounting. He grabs my head and holds my mouth in place. "God, you really do love to suck balls, don't you, slave?" I just moan and submissively whimper, showing my supreme contentment. Bathing his scrotum with my spit, I switch back and forth between his balls, sucking and licking every inch. His cock is now at a full erection, towering over his crotch. I spit his testicle from my hot mouth and slowly begin to lick the full length of his cock. Drops of pre-cum are leaking from the slit. I place the head of his erect penis on my lips and swipe the cum away. The taste is sweet, sticky, and sexy; there is no better taste than my Master's cum. He reached down and grabbed my collar, yanking hard, he forced the length of his cock deep into my mouth. Holding my head in place, he humped his cock deeper until it enters my throat. Each thrust began to go deeper and deeper, and I began to gag. Tears began to flow down my face, but he just keeps fucking my face. In and out, over and over, he strokes his cock in my mouth. I never feel more submissive than when Master uses my mouth for his pleasure. I live for the moment when Master unloads his seed into my mouth.
"Get ready, slave, here comes your daily milk." His cock stiffened as the head expanded to release his load. The next thing I knew, his hot seed was shooting hard into my mouth and on my tongue. I got to swallow six shots of cum. The semen has a thick consistency, not the watery kind. His first spurt is just incredible, almost filling my mouth to overflowing. After the initial shot, his cock spasms several times quickly, releasing the rest of his delicious load. It kept shooting, filling my mouth and spilling from my lips, spilling onto his balls. "Take that cock, you worthless cocksucker, eat my seed, it's the only nourishment you're going to get tonight." I swallowed the cum in my mouth, swirling my tongue over his cockhead, eager to lick up any remaining drops of the precious semen. I decided to rub my face on the cum that dripped out of my mouth onto the top of my Master's hairy scrotum. I cover both of my cheeks with his semen. My face gleamed from his wetness. Looking up, I said, "I want your next load on my face. I need a semen facial. Please, Master, I love your cum, I love to taste it and eat it. It tastes so sweet."
"Okay, cunt, you want another load of my cum, you can start after you fuck yourself with your friend here." Pointing to a twelve-inch black dildo on the coffee table, I crawled over and grabbed the rubber cock and slowly started to suck the head, taking a third down my throat. I licked the head for lubrication. Leaning back on the couch, I spread my legs wide and inserted the fake cock into my dripping pussy. I pushed over half its length deep into my vagina. Master said, "Play with your clit while you fuck yourself, you cum-sucking bitch." I love it when Master calls me names. I am a cocksucking cunt. He should know, he trained me well in all aspects of making a man cum.
Master climbed over my face while I continued to fuck myself deeper with the phallus. As he lowered his ass to my face, he said, "I'm going to let you suck my ass while you fuck yourself, slave. What do you say, slut?"
Barely able to speak with the cock nearly all the way inside my pussy, I groaned a soft, "Thank you, Master, I will do a good job. When you cum, can I get my facial?"
"Just lick, bitch, I'll decide if you deserve a reward."
This is something I would never do for my husband. With that, I stuck my tongue directly onto his anal bud. I could feel his body shiver as my warm, wet, and experienced tongue began to swipe my tongue from underneath his balls to his asshole. I swiped the flat part of my tongue over this sensitive area twenty or thirty times. His whole groin was wet with my spit. Master bent over more to allow me better access to his hole. I stiffened my tongue and, while spreading his cheeks, my tongue slowly entered his anus. His hole was hot and tight. My face was pressed tightly to his cheeks, his weight resting on my mouth.
"Lick deeper, you ass-sucking princess," he shouted. Spurred on by his order, I pressed my tongue through his anal ring and entered his rectum. I licked deep into his hole, shaking with happiness. Each lick of my tongue was a special kiss, which only my master deserved. I could feel him stroking his cock as my tongue went into overdrive. My face was covered with slobber and sweat dripping from his ass. The utter humiliation of sucking ass was heaven in itself. Master's does his best to keep me stress-free as I am required to suck his ass daily, usually after his morning shower. I continued to lick the inside of his anus while he stroked his cock and yelled, "Suck harder, slave, I am going to shoot my seed soon all over your face." This spurred on my efforts; I could taste the muskiness of his hole. All through my anal worship, I continued to drive the plastic cock deeper in and out of my cunt. The fake cock was covered with my juices, which dripped off the head and covered the long black length. My pussy was dripping cum all over the floor, my clit throbbing with an impending climax. Just as I came, my Master stood up and pointed the head of his cock over my face and ejaculated several large spurts of sperm that landed on my forehead, nose, and eyes. The warm semen dripped down my face, and I gathered the cum with my fingers and licked his essence up with my tongue and lips.
"I love the taste of your cum, Master. Can I lick up the rest from the head of your cock?" I replied.
"Beg for it, cunt, I want to hear you beg for my cum," he said.
"Please, Master, let me suck the remaining load from your balls. I will do a good job, I promise." My mouth needed to taste his cock, to worship his balls. I knew he loves to hear me moan submissively while I tongue and suck his crotch after he has released his precious load. I gently took the head of his penis into my mouth, tonguing the length, tasting the remainder of his cum, happy that the seed had found a new home in my stomach. This time I was determined to suckle his cock like a newborn babe needing her milk. I drew in my cheeks and applied suction to his penis, drawing in any remaining cum into my mouth, my tongue tasting the last few drops seeping from the head. As my Master relaxed, he sat in his chair and let me continue my post-orgasmic worship. I love to suck and lick his cock after he comes. I can take more of his length deep into my throat. As his cockhead is super sensitive after his ejaculation, I am careful to lick and suck without moving my head.In this way, his cock becomes a part of me, and I am content in adoration as I slowly suck his crotch. The minutes pass silently, his cock now surrounded in the warm and wet confines of my lips and tongue. My Master slowly strokes my hair and waits for my mouth to slowly bring him to another erection. I can smell his semen drying on my face. I love the strong taste of Master's cum in my mouth and on my tongue. If there is a heaven, it could not be any better than this. His cock has begun to stiffen in my mouth, causing me to slowly begin to draw back from his balls. I release his cock, tall, wet, and shiny from my efforts. I look at the clock next to the bed; I have suckled his cock for over thirty minutes, a new slave record. My knees ache from being on the floor for so long, and Master senses my discomfort and says, "Bitch, I need you on the bed, doggy style. Put your head on the pillow, it's time for your weekly buttfuck."
I quickly move up on the bed and assume the position. I spread my legs and remove the dildo that was still deep in my pussy. We have a practiced routine whenever Master decides I need a hot, sweaty buttfuck. I start by saying, "Master, don't fuck me in the ass, and I'll be a good slave girl from now on." I can feel my anus spasm in anticipation of his hard cock being shoved deep inside me. Master starts by rubbing two fingers with K-Y jelly, which he uses to stretch my poor, defenseless anus. "Spread your cheeks wide apart for me, slut. I want to see the hole that belongs to me." I reach back with both hands and grasp each side of my butt, giving Master an obscene view of my anus. Suddenly, two cold and greasy fingers are shoved knuckles-deep into my backside. I scream at this unnatural entry, whimpering, "Master, have mercy, you're killing me." With that, he cruelly twists his fingers around and around, all the while stroking my clit with his thumb. "Your anus was made to be played with, cunt. I just love to stroke the inside of your sweet ass." Suddenly, Master pulls his cruel fingers from my ass. I can feel the weight of the bed shift as he crawls on top of me. "I'm going to mount you like the slut you are." I feel his huge cock pressing against the closed ring of my anus. It hurts as his relentless pushing causes his cock to enter my rectum. "You're killing me! Please, Master, have mercy." He just grunts and slowly forces inch after inch deeper into my ass. "Move your ass, bitch," he yells. "Or I'll bring in some of my friends to butt-fuck you for hours." As I knew he meant it, I began to rotate my hips and yelled for him to fuck me harder and deeper in my ass. "Please, Master, I need your cum in my ass." He pulled me by my hips, burying his cock up to his balls in my anus. "I'm going to keep my cock all the way inside you for a few minutes." I could feel my ass spasm around his large cock. It was a wonderful feeling of fullness. I never wanted it to end. He whispered in my ear, "Does baby want me to use her ass to milk my cock? Answer me, bitch!" "Thank you, Master, for fucking my ass. My only purpose in life is to drain your balls of cum. I love to milk you any way possible." I tightened my anus and bucked my hips back and forth, hoping to extract another load from his balls. Suddenly, Master stiffened, and shot a huge load of his cum deep into my ass. Swiftly pulling his still hard cock from my ass, he turned me over and shoved his slimy cock into my face and ordered me to clean it with my mouth. Having no choice, I swallowed his cock all the way to his balls and suctioned all the cock and ass juice from the length and head. I then repeated the action several times to make sure that nothing was left. I continued to lick and suck each ball in turn. Happily, I found some cum that had dripped from my ass. The taste was wonderful. I looked up for approval and was reminded that I had not finished my chore. As Master spread his legs, I licked and tongued his tight asshole clean. I licked this area for a few minutes, as I wanted Master to be proud of me. "Slave, I want you to squat your ass above my cock." Slowly, I straddled my Master's waist. Spreading my legs, I felt the large load he had just deposited deep into my ass slowly start to drip out of my ass onto his cock and balls. "Squeeze the cum out, you whore!" he yelled. After a few moments, a large glob of cum dripped onto his cock, some dripping deep between his legs. Suddenly, he turned me around and ordered me to clean up the mess I had made in his crotch.
Meanwhile, back home:
"Well, wimp, how many times did you cum reading my latest story?" I asked.
"It was so hot I jacked off four times while you were away," he replied. "As usual, I saved the spend and put it in the jar in the fridge. Do you want me to show you?"
"No, that won't be necessary right now. But I do expect you to consume your cream later when my lover arrives. You do want to entertain us, don't you?"
We both knew the answer. | null | null | Authors/I.M.S/Lovers Sex Slave.txt |
105,335 | Silkinn | The Breeze | You know the sort of day. When it's so hot that even the trees seem too tired to breathe. When the sun is so glaringly painful that your eyes burn when you lift them up from your feet as you slouch listlessly along. When the road seems to melt, and you can feel every single pebble through the soles of your sneakers.
That's how hot it was.
I licked my dry lips with the tip of my tongue as I lay on my back on the porch, willing a breeze to float down from the mountains. A butterfly floated through my field of vision, impossibly cheerful and unconcerned by the heat, its dark purple wings fluttering as it dipped and soared on invisible fairy currents.
I could feel the perspiration pooling between my shoulder blades as they pressed against the old creaky floorboards, and I shifted uncomfortably, wiggling my bottom irritably. My sundress was soaked through, as if I had stood out in the garden in the middle of a torrential downpour. Even my hair lay flat and lifeless, pasted against my forehead and neck, as if in mute sympathy with me.
I tried breathing as shallowly as possible, trying to conserve energy, willing my internal engine to cool, until finally, my eyelids fluttered closed and I slipped into a fitful sleep, my hands falling to lie at my sides, fingers open...
A hand.
It lightly gripped my left ankle, the thumb and forefinger easily meeting. It felt smooth, the fingers seemed well-formed, strong.
Sliding, slippery-sliding, up my left leg. It had reached my shin. It stopped, as if examining the faint scar, the only evidence from a childhood fall from an old willow tree that I should never have been climbing in the first place.
It moved again.
Now it had reached my knee. It seemed to slow its progress, as if pausing for breath, then finally, it again inched its way higher, moving excruciatingly slowly up my thigh. I felt the movement of cloth against my skin and realized the hand was moving the hem of my dress up with it as it inched higher.
The dress slid higher, and I wondered if the hand could feel how damp the material was. I could feel that my thighs were exposed, no, not just my thighs...the hand was creeping higher, pushing and bunching the dress before it, sliding it across my burning skin.
Again, it paused, then again slowly moved, briefly crossing the silky panties before reaching my hip. It seemed to caress the skin there, and I felt a thumb, slowly rubbing in a circular motion.
Then, it changed direction, and moved horizontally, barely touching my tummy, and I felt it skim the fine downy hair as it passed, on its way to my other hip, where the thumb again gently rubbed.
Then back again, to my belly button, and now a finger slowly explored, circling around and around.
A button unfastened, then another, as the hand made its way up my body, and I felt my dress peel off my body, like the skin from a juicy peach.
Now I felt fingers, slowly moving towards my left breast, sliding effortlessly across my wet skin. They paused at the lower swell, then the hand slid sideways up...and across my nipple, before returning to circle it, much the same as it had done with my belly button ages ago.
I felt a palm, pressing gently against my nipple as it rose up to meet it, then the thumb again, joined by a finger as it gently stroked and pulled, and circled, and stroked, and pulled.
The hand slid across to my right breast, cupping it easily, catching that nipple between thumb and forefinger as it squeezed almost painfully, before releasing and again resuming the gentle attention it had lavished on my left nipple.
Then, the hand slid down, over my belly button, across the faint swell of my belly, down.
Further down.
Until I felt the tips of the fingers briefly touch the elastic of my panties.
The hand crept lower, trailing fire across my skin as I felt it pass through the soft hair. A finger, one I hadn't felt before, slid even lower, easily parted the lips and briefly touched the hard little point before dipping into the wet, slippery folds below. Then it drew back, again across the little bump, before reaching forward once more, this time sliding further in.
Another finger slipped down surreptitiously to join it, and they both gently parted the folds, soaking themselves in the wetness now, before rising up and stroking, pinching, rubbing.
Again and again the pattern repeated, and I felt my hips rising off the floorboards, my thighs straining to open wider, my breath catching in my throat, as the fire raged into an inferno, streaking up through my belly, circling my aching nipples with its touch, gripping my throat until I couldn't breathe. And still the fire roared until finally...
I felt the breeze then finally, soft against my cheek, and I wept with joy. | null | null | Authors/silkinn/breeze.txt |
106,053 | lilsis | Melodie the Tease | Young 12-year-old Melodie always liked boys and, I'm guessing, men too. She was such a flirt. I don't think her mother ever taught her much about sex or boys, but she liked to tease, and I always noticed. I guess being a tease just came naturally to her. Melodie lived next door to me and often dropped in for a visit. She had long brown hair with red highlights, and for her age, she had nice big breasts. An early bloomer for sure, I'm guessing about a 32C, and lucky for me, she liked to show them off. I wanted so badly to touch her, but I kept my distance until the timing was right.
New neighbors moved in next door. They had 3 kids, one of them being a cute little girl who caught my eye right away. I later met them and found out the beauty was 8 years old, and her name was Melodie. A fitting name for her - she made me want to sing. I knew I wanted Melodie from the first time I saw her as a child of about 8 years old. I liked being outside during the day with my binoculars, and I would sit and watch her for hours. A few times every summer, I was guaranteed they would have a pool, and she would play in it for hours. As she got older, her bathing suit would slip off sometimes, and I would get to see how her breasts had grown through the years. She even sunbathed, and of all the places she could lay, it was facing my house. Her legs would be slightly apart, and I would imagine I was between them, showing her what men and girls do.
There was one day she dropped by for a visit wearing a bathing suit that barely covered her bosom, and I just had to reach out and cup them. She nearly fell down trying to get away. I think I shocked her, and she didn't know what to do. But I know she will be back.
Her parents had a garden that they planted every year. They knew I had a tractor and would ask me to till it for them. I was glad to, since I knew Melodie's bedroom window faced the garden. I would take my time, hoping to catch a glimpse of her. And sure enough, she would be at the window with her top off, flashing her sweet breasts. She would cup each one and hold them up to the window and jiggle them. I would pretend not to notice, but let me tell you, I was watching. Luckily, tilling had nothing to do with straight rows, because I doubt I could have managed it. I don't know if she noticed that I was hard as a rock and rubbing my crotch, but let me say that on a hot summer day, and you have a raging hard-on, having any clothes on can be very restricting. She must have noticed or she would have stopped flashing me. What a tease.
On a few other occasions, I would see her out with her dog, and she would sit down by a tree, looking around to see if anyone was watching, and would slide her shorts to the side and let her dog lick her vulva. She never knew I was watching her. I guess living in the country, little girls have no one to play with and will get bored and find different things to keep them occupied - lucky for me again. She was just starting to get brown hair on her pussy, almost curly. She would be out with her dog for a good 30 minutes, which gave me plenty of time to watch her while I masturbated and came.
Then there were the times she had to pick weeds in the garden, and she would be wearing skin-tight cut-off shorts, and she would bend over towards my way. I don't think she knew I was there, but I think she was hoping I was. Oh, and mowing the lawn, she would wear the skimpiest outfits. I know it was hot, but I always thought she did it for my benefit.
At night, she left her curtains open, and I would peek in, hoping to see her, and low and behold, the girl slept in the nude. Her delicious nipples would be peeking out from the covers. I'm not sure if she was awake or not, but her hands would be rubbing between her crotch. Or at least it looked like it, with the covers moving in the right spot. I would stand outside her window, masturbating, imagining my penis in her sweet vulva. I probably left a dent or two on the side of the house, not to mention my semen. Her dog would always come and lick up most of my evidence for me. She probably heard me outside her window and knew I liked watching her, which is why she slept in the nude.
When her parents were at work, I would sneak up and peek in her window just to see what she was up to or, if I was lucky, catch her masturbating. She would roll up a towel until it was the way she wanted it and then lay it down and lay on top of it, humping away. I always knew when she was about to orgasm because her body would slow down and jerk. Oh, what I wouldn't have given to be that cum-covered towel. On a few occasions, I caught her with her brother playing around - I would have given anything to get some pictures.
The reason I know she was a virgin is because she wasn't old enough to go out on dates yet, and also, on one of my lucky touch days, I got to slip a finger inside her. She had come down to borrow some potatoes, and at the time, we had them out in the garage. I told her to get as many as she liked, they were over there. While she was bent over looking for what she needed, I snuck up on her. Of course, she was wearing her sexy cut-off shorts that were pulled to one side, and I went for it. I almost knocked her over, and she steadied herself on the edges of the potato bin. I just had to feel her; I couldn't stop myself. Her vulva was so tight yet so very wet. I hated to stop, but I knew I better before I went too far. She turned around and asked, "What are you doing?" I said I was sorry, that I had slipped on some grease. She smiled and said, "That's okay." I couldn't believe she let me off the hook; I almost did more than I should have, but I wanted to see more of the tease. I can only hope she doesn't tell her parents. I kept a watch and listened in when her mother got home because if she were going to tell, she would have said something the first few minutes. She didn't, and I let out a big sigh. I did give it a few days just to be sure I was in the clear. And lucky me, she went back to doing her usual things.
Unfortunately, that was the only touches I got to do. I guess she was growing up, and teasing me just wasn't enough for her. A few years later, after high school, she moved out. That's the last time I got to enjoy her body. But oh, the sweet memories I'll have forever!
Let me know if you like my little tale. I don't like to be kept waiting :) [email protected] | null | null | Authors/lilsis/Melodie the tease.txt |
106,090 | John P | My Daughter's Love | You love her from the moment she enters the world. You worship the baby girl, the tiny mite that you fathered, the tiny mite who lies cradled in your arms while her mother looks on in admiration. As you kiss her tiny head, you promise that she'll be the most loved little girl in the world, that you'll never leave her.
When she comes home from the hospital, you watch her feed at her mum's breast, watch her take the big nipple and suck. She cries and you're there, picking her up and comforting her. When she can't sleep, you wheel her in her pram, talking to her until she finally goes to sleep.
Eventually she talks and you're thrilled when you hear, "Dadda." She has a name now for that big human who keeps loving her and talking to her. When she learns to walk, it's Dada who provides his finger for her to hold onto so that she doesn't fall. You watch her little legs grow stronger by the day and marvel at the things she can do with her tiny fingers.
Then you watch as she plays in the garden, running around, chasing a ball you threw and then throwing it back to you. When she runs at you, she giggles when you lift her up and twirl her round in the air. She loves her Dadda and you're so proud. You can take her for walks in the park and you let her go on the baby rides, watching her laughing face as she enjoys herself.
She's 5 now and she has to start school and you take her, promising your little angel that it will be OK and you'll be standing right here waiting for her when she finishes school. And you are there because you love her. Her little face brightens up when she sees you and her blue eyes sparkle, and she runs at you, knowing that you'll lift her up and swing her around. Her blonde hair splays out when you swing her and she kisses you, telling you she loves you.
There's something happening between you, yet you can't put a name to it. She looks at you with a serious face and you look back at her, so wanting to kiss the child. What is it that's going on?
You bathe her when Mum's busy and she likes it better when you do it rather than her mum. You run the washcloth around her tiny body and wash her beautiful blonde hair and you find her looking at you with that serious face again. It's there again, that bond.
She's 8 now but she still wants Daddy to bathe her and you do. Her long blonde hair is difficult to wash but she sits naked in the bath while you wash it. She stands and you wash her back and the bottom that looks so nice when you cup her buttocks. When she opens her legs wide, you forget the washcloth and your soapy fingers wash her little bum-hole and her little pussy, being sure to clean between her lips. When you get her to turn around, you wash her chest and the tiny nipples, watching them become erect as your fingers pass over them.
Her serious face is before you again. It's that bond again, the one you can't name. She opens her legs really wide so that your soapy fingers can run up her little slit and she pushes her hips forward to make it easier for you. When your finger touches the top of her slit, she sighs, and you find that you're touching her tiny clitoris. You're not thinking about sex, of course, because she's your little girl and you wouldn't even consider touching her indecently, would you?
What you can't explain is the erection that's filling your pants. It's just a coincidence, of course. It couldn't be anything else. Odd though, it seems to happen every time you bathe her. When you stand to dry her hair before she gets out of the bath, she looks at the tent in your pants because it's only 6 inches in front of her face. She doesn't think anything about it though, does she? I mean, she's only 8.
When you lift her out of the bath to stand her on the floor, her arms go round your neck and she hugs you tight, kissing your cheek. You kiss her cheek and then stand her on the floor, using the big towel to dry the body of your angel. She likes being dried by her daddy, particularly when you make sure she's absolutely dry between her legs. You have to open her tiny pussy lips and look inside to make sure that you didn't miss drying her there. It's odd that your cock hasn't softened. When she's dry, she hugs you again and you find your hands are cupping her tiny bottom, each hand cupping a firm little cheek.
You lift her up, intending to carry her into her bedroom and dress her ready for bed. But she wraps her legs around your waist and you find that your hands are moving to the open little pussy and the bum-hole that is now so accessible. It's an accident of course that your fingers touch her there but she's hugging you tighter as the accidental touching happens. You kiss her neck, just an expression of your love for your child, and you find she's kissing yours.
Once you've put her on the bed, she's giving you that serious face again and she can see the tent in your pants again. You turn to get her pajamas from the drawer and when you turn back to her, her legs are splayed wide open and she's touching her pussy. She's looking into your eyes to see what you think and when she sees that your eyes have locked onto what she's doing, and she sees you lick your lips, she knows that it reinforces that bond between you.
You watch, entranced, as she puts a finger into her mouth and then returns it to her tiny naked pussy, rubbing the tiny clitoris that now peeps out from its little hood. She's watching you too as your hand goes to your crotch, touching the member which is fully erect inside your pants. Her eyes are fixed on your hands while yours watch each tiny movement of her fingers.
Your hands drop her pajamas on the bed and you sit down next to her, still watching her busy fingers, still stroking your pants where your erection threatens to break through your underwear. Then her eyes look into yours and she puts one hand on top of yours, the one which you're using on your cock, and she leaves it there as you continue to play with yourself. After several seconds, she lifts your hand and places it on her bare little pussy and you panic.
'I mustn't do this!' you tell yourself but you just can't take your hand away. Your fingers are dry and you wet one in your mouth, returning immediately to stroke your little girl's clitoris. She sighs and her hand reaches for the front of your pants. When she touches you, it's electric, and when she mimics the hand movements you were making, you want to scream and cum. Her hand is stroking your length, feeling your thickness, and she's looking into your eyes for your reaction. She can see you sweating and going red in the face, and she wonders for a moment if something's wrong.
She lifts her knees so that her feet are flat on the bed and her legs open really wide, giving your hand and fingers more room to play with her tiny sex. Her tiny bum-hole, that lovely little pink pucker, is visible now and you wonder about how really tight it might be. Your finger slides along her short slit from bum-hole to clitoris and she begins to pant softly, breathy little sounds like a kitten at play.
When you cum in your pants, she feels the jerking of your cock in her hand and she looks at you questioningly. She hears you panting and the labored breathing as you ejaculate into your underwear, but she knows instinctively that something wonderful has just happened, although she doesn't know what it is. Your cock has just pumped gob after gob of hot spunk out and your underpants feel absolutely full but she still moves her hand slowly over your pants.
Any sense you had now deserts you and when you lie down on your belly and move your head down between her thighs, she takes your head between her small hands as you begin to lick her tiny wet pussy. She pants even more as your tongue plays with her small labia and when the tip of your tongue touches her clitoris and you tickle it, she shudders and holds your head tighter.
You're licking her harder now, faster, and she's beginning to shudder, her tiny frame trembling because of what your tongue's doing. She makes a mewing sound and then her body goes rigid, and from her little throat comes, "Nnnnggg!" and her hips begin to buck, trying to escape, but you hold her hips still and you watch your little girl cumming. Her eyes are closed tight but her mouth is open and she's sucking in air as her little orgasm takes her over.
Ten seconds later, it's all over and her muscles relax and she falls back to the bed. She's panting still but she opens her eyes and looks at you, smiling at you and stroking your head. You move to lie beside her and you cuddle her, stroking her back and feeling her silky smooth bottom.
She nestles against you and you feel the love and you suddenly realize that this is the feeling you could never put a name to. It's sexual love for your child, the child who is so precious to you.
Then she whispers, "That was nice, Daddy. I DO love you," and she squeezes you tight.
"I love you too, sweetheart, so much," you reply and it's true. The bond between you is stronger than any other you've known.
This bath-time ritual continues for another year.You bathe her, lick her tiny pussy until she cums, and you continue to cum in your pants most nights. She's nearly 10 though, and Mom has said that she's a big girl now and she should bathe herself and not have Daddy do it. Your little angel is not best pleased at this interference in her pleasure with her daddy. Your wife has started to suspect that more than bathing has been going on with your little girl, and the amount of time she spends naked with you is 'unhealthy', and she intends to put a stop to it.
You can't protest, of course, but your world has just about crashed around you as you see your love for your little girl snatched away. You're bereft; the meaning has just gone out of your life. But wait, you think, you'll just have to find another way to be alone with her, and you think long and hard about the possibilities. You figure out the occasions when Mom goes out alone, and you realize that it might well be possible for love-making with your child to continue.
Mom goes shopping alone, and you're left with your angel quite often. Then there are the times when you take your child to functions which she has to attend, school, Brownies and so on. Then you could always take her to the park or the picture house or the fair maybe. The school holidays provide other possibilities too, and suddenly your world does not seem so black anymore.
The next time Mom goes shopping, you seek each other out and go to her bedroom. You watch as she undresses, and, once you're naked too, her eyes never leave your cock as she sees it for the first time, naked and erect in all its glory. She wants to touch it, to feel her daddy's thing, to feel it directly in her small hand instead of through his pants.
When you come together, her hand reaches for your cock, and you thrill at her touch. Her tiny hand encompasses your girth, and she feels the soft skin which covers your hardness. She's fascinated; it's the first time she has seen an adult cock, let alone handled one. You watch as your little girl explores your sex, the hard cock and the bag which contains your balls beneath. You're flying high as a kite as your angel discovers how your skin moves back and forth as her little hand moves along the length of your erection.
You take her to her bed, lying her down and watching her spread her legs wide. She pushes under her the pillow you've taught her to use in order to raise her sex for your mouth and tongue. Her beautiful blue eyes look up at you expectantly, waiting for you to begin your exploration of her sex which is now wet because of her arousal. She brings her knees up to her chest and then opens them as wide as she can, knowing that you love to see her bum-hole as well as her pussy which is now slightly open because of her position on the pillow.
She sees your hand around your cock, and she watches as you wank slowly, your eyes fixed on her sex which she displays without self-consciousness. She knows that you want what lies between her legs, and she also knows that she wants you there, making her feel good like you have done for the last 2 years. Her appetite for your mouth and tongue has not diminished; indeed, it's become stronger since Mom's interference has kept you away from her, and she's had to be content with her nightly masturbation, alone in her bed. She frigs her clitoris every night, remembering the feelings you always gave her as you worshipped her sex with your mouth and tongue.
As you look hungrily at her sex, you want to penetrate her, to take her virginity, but your sense tells you that she's too small, that you would hurt her terribly if you tried to fuck her. You settle instead on worshipping at her altar, and lie on your belly in order to begin the tongue-work that you know she desperately needs. Mom's orders, which have kept the two of you apart, have done nothing but sharpen your child's appetite for sex with you, and she sighs audibly as your tongue licks between her pussy lips, reaching from bum-hole to clitoris.
She moans loudly as your lips trap one of her labia between them, and her hands go to your head, pulling you harder into her sex. Your tongue tastes the juice she's producing, and you're inflamed as she wriggles her pussy against your nose and mouth. Her groaning arouses you, spurring you on, encouraging you to lick harder, to give your little girl more of what she has been missing so much.
You want to teach her something new, and you lie on your back in the middle of her bed, positioning her astride your head, and you hold her slim hips, pulling her down until her pussy rests on your mouth. She loves this position, and she takes full advantage, wriggling contentedly on your face, moaning as your tongue is busy exciting her little pussy. You hold her buttocks as she wriggles, and you're happy that she's making herself cum as she rides your face, happy that she's choosing what you lick and how hard she will press down on you. She holds the headboard tight and fucks your tongue with that tiny hole, making sure that her clitoris is pushed regularly onto the tip of your tongue.
When she cums, she cries out, "Daddy!" and you feel her buttocks in your hands tense as the first wave of her orgasm overtakes her. She rides it, pressing her groin onto your face so you can't breathe, but you don't care because you're sharing love. She groans loudly, and her limbs shake as her climax continues, shuddering as her white knuckles hold the headboard so tightly. You taste her cum-juices as she empties herself into your mouth, and you gladly wait, hoping for much more of the ambrosia to fall from her tiny pussy.
Once the trembling stops, she relaxes, panting hard as she comes down from the high she has just experienced from your agile tongue. She wriggles down your body so that she's lying on you full length, and her head rests on your chest. Your hands are busy caressing her back and the taut buttocks that feel so firm. She's lying with your hard cock trapped under her belly, and it hasn't gone unnoticed. She moves over slightly so that she can take your hardness in her hand, and she wanks it slowly, knowing that it gives you so much pleasure.
It won't take long, of course, before you cum, and she seems to know that, but she moves up so that she can kiss you, kiss her daddy who she loves so much. She feels your hand squeezing her bum harder and your breathing increasing, and she knows that whatever it is will happen soon. Her hand moves faster, and, when you tense your body, she can feel it in your muscles, and then the hot wetness comes, spraying both your bodies. Your cry as you cum startles her, but she continues to wank you. She looks down and can see your cock spurting stuff, hot viscous white stuff, and she's intrigued by the sight. Your cock is jerking in her hand, and she watches, fascinated, as this white stuff continues to shoot out of your penis.
This has something to do with babies, she remembers from conversations at school with other girls in her class, but she can't quite see the connection. Her daddy is kissing her, kissing her lips hard, and she's kissing you back, her soft lips so tender against yours. She's made you cum with her hand, and you thank her profusely, but she's puzzled as to why. You made her cum so delightfully, and she's just returned the favor. Why would you need to thank her? She dismisses it and cuddles close again, nestling once more on your chest.
You love each other; there's really no other explanation necessary for a father who is cuddling his naked nearly-10-year-old little girl. You have both cum, each by the other, and you lie there in post-orgasmic bliss, happy to fondle each other and whisper your love for each other.
You take your naked daughter to the bathroom and clean her up, but she's a bit puzzled when she sees you lick the white stuff with your tongue and swallow it. She asks if it tastes nasty, and you scoop some up and offer it to her. When you tell her it's nice, her little tongue pokes out, and she tastes it, declaring that it's not nasty at all. Then she licks the spunk off your body, and her little tongue tickles your skin, but it excites you. You resolve to introduce this practice later when you can make love with your angel again.
Society in general won't like this, you know only too well, and Mom in particular will go ballistic if any of this ever comes to light. A father's love for his little girl must always fall short of sexual contact, regardless of the little girl's desire for it. This is society's judgment, and any transgressions will require very long custodial incarceration. What the little girl wants is discounted as being irrelevant, and, if her heart breaks because Daddy's not around anymore, society will try to explain that it's all his fault and he couldn't possibly have loved her, that he's used her only for his own perverted satisfaction. This won't help her much when she's crying tears into her pillow at night for the umpteenth time.
They both know that their love must never be discovered, that it has to stay secret so that their love can continue. The bond between them ensures that she will say absolutely nothing to anybody, least of all her mother, the woman who has tried to break up what they have. She wonders for a moment what happens if Daddy makes a baby in her. Would she be able to marry him and then move away together? She'd love that, being with her daddy for always.
Chapter 2
She was 12 just a couple of months ago, and her breasts, once flat tissue with tiny nipples, have formed nicely and are now the size of small oranges. Her nipples now protrude from her breast flesh and have taken on a darker shade of pink. Her pussy, around which sparse hair grows, bleeds for about 7 days a month, but she realizes that you can't really lick her during that time, but you taught her 6 months ago how to please you with her mouth, and she doesn't disappoint you.
Remember when she asked to put your cock in her mouth for the first time 6 months ago?You'd just made her have a tremendous climax with your tongue on her clitoris, and she'd continued to wank your cock afterwards. She'd heard at school from her friends about cock-sucking, and she wanted to see what it was like in real life. She knew she could talk to you about it, and you wouldn't laugh at her. When she'd asked how it worked, you'd explained the mechanics of it, saying how some women liked to have it in their mouths. You'd explained too about the 'cumming' part, where the woman would suck it until the white stuff shot out, and she'd keep it in her mouth, tasting it before swallowing. She remembered the taste, of course, because you would always share it with her each time your spunk coated both of your naked bodies.
You'd told her to go carefully, just to start by licking, and if she was sure, she could go further, sucking your cock inside her mouth. You would tell her when the white stuff was coming, and she could take it out of her mouth before the fluid shot out of the pee-slit. That would be OK, you told her, because you didn't want to pressure her in any way. She's a brave girl though, and she loved you and trusted you implicitly, so she received your hot spunk in her mouth and she swallowed it. This was just the first time. From then on, she would do this for you anytime you asked her to in the future because she loved you.
You're both sneaking around, having sex whenever Mum isn't around, and you're both equally confident that no-one will discover your secret. You will pull her knickers down in her bedroom at every opportunity and fuck her with your tongue until she climaxes, and then she'll kiss you, her tongue thrust into your mouth, because you just made her feel wonderful.
She will feel your crotch through your pants, put her hand on your hardness, and whisper to you that she needs to suck your big cock, that she needs your spunk. She's hot, horny, and her hormones are dictating that she must have sex as much as possible. Who else would she do it with? You're her daddy, and you love her more than anybody else in the world.
Birth control is something that has not been discussed or even mentioned. Mum thinks that your angel is too young to be thinking about that just yet, and you daren't argue in case Mum's suspicions get aroused. You want to fuck her; you want to penetrate her little pussy so badly. You decide to buy some condoms and you hide them because Mum's on the pill, and you couldn't explain away the condoms if she found them.
Your little girl wants you to fuck her, to push your cock up inside her and shoot your spunk deep in her vagina. She plays with her pussy at night, imagining the feel of your thick cock wedged up inside her, and she cums so hard, moaning, "Daddy! Daddy!" as her cum-juice soaks her pussy lips and her fingers. She's imagined you in her bed, between her wide open legs, and thinks what it might feel like to have Daddy spray his seed into her womb and make her pregnant.
You lie next to your wife in the marital bed, and you think of your 12-year-old in the next room, and your cock is stiff at the thought of breeding her. It's only pretend, of course, but it arouses you immensely. You picture your beautiful daughter with a big pregnant belly and her breasts that would become swollen many months along. Her brown elongated nipples would feed your baby, the baby you fucked into your child, and your arousal is overwhelming you. You have to cum, you have to spill your seed, but it can't be inside your daughter because your wife might wake up and catch you. You wank and try to minimise the movement you make as you make your cock shoot your spunk, and you make sure to cum in the palm of your hand so that you can lick it up and not leave a tell-tale mess behind.
Several weeks later, you're both horny because you've only managed to touch each other once in the last two weeks. Mum's gone out shopping now, and the coast is clear, so you both rush to your daughter's bedroom, both of you ripping off your clothes along the way. The pair of you are crazed with lust, and common sense has been left behind with the discarded clothing.
She lies on the bed, and you kiss her, and she kisses you back, hungry for your body. The fact that she's only 12 is ignored by both of you because the lust is driving you both along, making you oblivious of anything else. Her breasts excite you, and you have to lick and suck the nipples as you squeeze her tits with your hands. She begins sucking your cock, making it very wet, and she hopes that today will be the first time her daddy makes full love to her. Her pussy is already soaking, but you haven't touched it yet. She's on heat, seeking desperately for a cock to breed her.
When she lies back on the bed, she opens her legs wide, and you see the shiny wetness of her juices on her labia, and you have to taste it. She's moaning as your mouth arouses her even more, but her most ardent desire is to have you mount her and make her a woman. She's 12 and fertile. She needs a cock, and yours is there, right next to her leg. You can't wait any longer, and neither can she, so your mouth leaves her pussy, and she pulls you up from there, lining up your erect manhood with her throbbing little pussy, and she pulls your hips toward her.
Mum has been to the filling station and discovered that she's left her credit card on the kitchen table at home. After a couple of expletives, she has to return home to pick it up because she can't shop without it. Entering the house, she's surprised to see her daughter's bra on the third step of the staircase leading to the bedrooms. When she sees your pants on the fifth step, and she hears moaning, she knows what's happening, and she treads lightly as she climbs the stairs.
In your rush to consummate your passion, neither of you has given any thought to closing the bedroom door, and, from the doorway, Mum remains silent as she watches your buttocks move rhythmically as she sees your penis sliding to and fro in your daughter's pussy. The girl's arms are around your neck, and she's pulling you into her, wanting more of your cock inside her. Mum can hear her daughter panting, calling your name and begging for more cock, for you to fuck her harder.
Mum's pussy becomes wet, and suddenly the years roll back. She pictures her own father coming into her bedroom when she was 13, remembers his hard stiff cock and how much she wanted to feel it inside her. His gentleness over the previous two years as they had touched and fondled each other had meant so much to her, and their love had been the cement for their relationship. Once her mother had found them together, she had helped the lovers, inviting her daughter into their marital bed so she could watch them making love as much as they wanted and regularly joined them in showing her sexual desire for their pretty daughter.
Here she is now, watching her husband love their daughter, hearing the cries of the little girl as she begs her daddy for more of his cock. She remembers her own cries too, when her mother had rubbed her little clitoris as her father thrust into her, and her own begging for more cock. How could she condemn them? How could she object to their act of love when she herself had enjoyed so much pleasure at the hands and genitals of her parents?
They mustn't see her watching, so reluctantly she creeps away, in her mind the picture of her naked and beautiful daughter. She wants to touch the child too, wants to stroke and caress the young breasts and the little pussy that is now being pounded by her daddy. Her mother had always caressed her sex in bed, had always used her fingers and mouth to give her little girl what she so badly needed. She could do no less for her own daughter now, she thought.
She's in the kitchen now, her knickers pulled down, and she masturbates to the things she's just seen and the sounds she can hear of their passion. Her finger is diddling her clitoris, and she's panting, and when she hears her daughter upstairs crying out as she cums on her daddy's cock, Mum shudders and cums all over her fingers, keeping her teeth clenched because she doesn't want the lovers upstairs to know she's at home. Daddy cries out too in orgasm, shouting his little girl's name as he cums inside her.
When Mum's legs have stopped shaking, she picks up her credit card and leaves quietly as the lovers rest upstairs on the bed. She knows what they're doing now; she did the same with her own father. They'll be cuddling, each telling the other how much they love them. They'll kiss each other, and she'll be telling him how wonderful and complete she feels now that she's a woman. He'll kiss her and promise to do it as much as she wants when they can get some privacy, when Mum's not at home.
Mum can't think straight though, and forgets half of the things she meant to pick up at the supermarket. Her mind is full of thoughts and pictures of her daughter's sex, her little girl's tender vulva, and she wonders what her child will taste like on her tongue, especially with her daddy's cum flooding out of her too. She's cashed out but must go to the toilet before she leaves. She's horny again and must masturbate before going home. Her husband and little girl together are the only pictures she needs, and it's less than a minute before she climaxes, flooding her pussy and fingers with her cum-juice. She licks her fingers, tasting her juice and wishing she could let her daughter share it.
You've finished fucking by the time Mum comes home, and everything is back in order. Mum has surreptitiously checked the stairs and found that the clothing that had been strewn around there earlier has gone. As she puts away the shopping, you chat with her, and she responds with light comments, and you're happy that she knows nothing of your sex with your little girl. Mum's thinking hard though, wondering how she can join the lovers and share in their happiness.Your daughter is in the bath just now, no doubt washing away the tell-tale signs of your incestuous relationship, washing away the spunk you left inside her, probably twice. There are some items that Mom brought home which need to be put in the medicine cabinet in the bathroom, and she goes up there, her hands full of products.
Your daughter looks up as Mom enters, and Mom takes in again the beautiful young figure which lies in the bath. Her small breasts are out of the water, and her immature pussy can be seen easily under the water. Your child asks Mommy to wash her back, and she stands and turns away, displaying her young back and bottom to her mother. Mom uses her hands instead of a washcloth and feels the soft skin of the child she brought into the world. The girl stands there in the bath as her mother's hands caress her body, and she enjoys the sensuous touches as her mom runs her hands everywhere.
She parts her legs, not entirely innocently, and her mom's fingers go between them, stroking her rosebud and pussy lips. Her little girl jumps and then involuntarily sighs as Mom feels her, and when a fingertip touches her sex-hole, she feels her husband's spunk there. Your little girl is panting from the unexpected stimulation and leans forward to put her hands flat against the wall, bending forward automatically.
Mom can see her little pussy and bum-hole plainly now that the child is bent forward, and your little girl moans as she becomes more aroused by her mother. As the child begins to tremble, her mom licks her tiny anus, and your daughter exhales noisily, still enjoying the fingers which are invading her pussy-hole. There's no thought from either of them about whether or not this is appropriate behavior because both are now too excited to care.
"Yes, Mom! Please... more!" your daughter begs her mother, and she goes down further to lick her little pussy. She wriggles as her mom uses her tongue, expertly licking the prominent clitoris.
"Get out of the bath," Mom says, and she lies on her back on the floor, making her daughter straddle her face and placing her little girl's sex over her mouth. She licks her daughter's pussy again and can taste her husband's sperm which now falls from the child's pussy in gobs, straight down onto Mom's tongue before being swallowed.
Your daughter wriggles on her mother's face, using her nose and mouth to masturbate herself. Mom's hands have reached up to play with the girl's breasts, feeling the weight and firmness of the youthful tits. Her nipples are erect and hard as her mom's fingers pinch the child's nipples. She's almost on the point of cumming, and Mom recognizes the signs.
Now is the time to speak. "Daddy's spunk tastes nice straight from your pussy, love." The child tries to stop her arousal, to stop what her body is making her do, but she can't. "Push more out, darling, push more of Daddy's spunk out!" and the child tries to squeeze her pussy muscles to expel as much as she can.
Mom licks and sucks, trying to get Daddy's spunk out of her child, and your daughter is going to cum. Your daughter climaxes on her mommy's face, shuddering as her young knees clamp her mother's head between them. She shakes and trembles with her orgasm, forcing her cunt down on her mother's face so that she's almost suffocated.
When her orgasm finishes and she begins to draw her breath properly again, your daughter stays above Mommy just long enough for the tongue below to clean her of your spunk and her cum-juices. Then she dismounts and lies down next to her mother, knowing that something will be said about her sexual activity with Daddy.
But Mommy kisses her on the mouth, and it's not a motherly kiss. Your daughter responds but is not sure where this will lead. When Mommy licks her small breasts, she holds her mother's head gently and enjoys the tongue that now licks her small dark pink nipples. Your daughter is nervous now that her orgasm is finished and common sense has begun to push to the fore. Mother and daughter lie on the bathroom floor, the older woman taking pleasure from her child's breasts and nipples.
The 12-year-old sees her mommy's hand inside her own knickers, playing with her pussy as she sucks the child's tits, and she's curious.
"Shall I do that for you, Mommy?" she asks softly, and her mother nods, and your child begins to pull down her mommy's knickers which are soaking from the stimulation of the last few minutes. She looks at her mother's pussy, at the thick pubic hair which surrounds her sex, and her hand touches it, feeling the coarseness.
As her fingers touch her mommy's very wet pussy lips, she finds the woman's clitoris and begins to rub it with her finger. Everything is wet and slippery, and the child inhales the aroma of aroused adult pussy, and as she works her finger to bring Mommy to a climax, she lowers her head to taste the older woman's sex juices. She finds the taste not unpleasant and replaces her finger with her hot wet tongue, lashing the large clitoris with the tip.
It's too much for Mommy as she watches her little girl lick her pussy, and she moans as she cums within seconds, her hips shaking and bucking against the child's mouth. Your daughter licks her mommy's pussy, tasting the fresh cum as she puts the tip of her tongue inside to suck it all out. Mom strokes the child's hair as the clean-up continues, and you're downstairs wondering what that moaning sound was.
She lies on the floor beside her mommy, and they cuddle together, Mommy stroking the young one's body.
"Did Daddy's cock hurt you, love?" Mommy asks, and the little girl looks into her eyes and smiles.
"Oh no, Mommy, it feels just wonderful!" she says, and her eyes sparkle. "But it hurt a bit the first time," she adds.
"Can I join you the next time you and Daddy make love?" Mommy asks, and your daughter's face is wreathed in smiles.
"Oh yes, Mommy. I'd like that. Does that mean we can do it anytime?" the child asks, and she's holding her breath, waiting for a yes.
When her mother nods, the girl can't wait to kiss her and smothers her face with kisses as she repeats, "Thank you!" over and over.
"Let's both get into that nice bath you were in and clean ourselves up for Daddy. Do you want to make love again tonight?" and your child says shyly, "Could we?" and Mommy smiles as she tells her yes. She's over the moon at this news and heads back to the tub, her mommy undressing herself and sitting behind her in the bath.
They bathe each other, feeling each other's body as they wash, and her mommy begins to appreciate how much her child has grown, how much she's developed. Her hips, her bottom, and those wonderful little breasts are testament to her child heading swiftly to becoming an adult, but her mother regrets that time is passing so quickly. She loves the child's body and never wants her to change, but time stands still for no-one, and she knows that she will have to make love to the child as much as possible before she grows up to be a girlfriend or wife to someone else.
As they dry each other with big fluffy towels, Mommy says not to say anything to Daddy yet, to make it a nice surprise for him tonight.
Later that evening, just around your child's bedtime, Mommy says she'll put your little girl to bed and tuck her in. You're puzzled at this, but you say nothing. You watch them go off, hand in hand, and wonder what the hell is going on.
When your wife doesn't come back down, you go upstairs to see what's wrong, but your little girl isn't in her bedroom. Where can she be? You open your bedroom door and see your daughter in your marital bed, and she's naked. Behind her, as they both face you, is her mother, her hand stroking your daughter's nipple as she kisses the back of her neck. Your cock becomes rapidly stiff, but your head can't quite figure out what's happening. Your wife's head comes up, and she looks at you standing there.
"Our daughter needs your cock, love. Make love to her," says your wife, and your little girl throws back the sheets for you to join them. As you strip, they watch you, and when your cock comes into sight, Mom whispers something in your daughter's ear, but you can't hear it. Your cock is steel-hard now, erect and leaking pre-cum, and you climb into bed and lie next to your daughter.
"Feel her," Mom says to you, "feel her little pussy. She's soaking wet, love," and your hand goes between her open legs to feel the wetness there. Your little girl is sandwiched between you, and she opens her mouth as you kiss her. Mommy's hand goes between you, and she touches your erection, feeling the slippery pre-cum oozing from your pee-slit.
Mom wants to lick her daughter's little pussy again, and she asks the little girl to climb on top of her daddy. She straddles her daddy, knees either side of his waist, and she leans forward over Daddy's chest and kisses him, and Mommy is behind her, licking the child's already wet pussy lips. They're open, and she can see the child's love-hole is slightly open and displaying the inside of her pink love-tube. Mommy's tongue licks your cock too, wetting it before it enters her child's little cunt.
When Mommy decides they are both wet enough, she grasps his cock and places it against her young daughter's hole. Then she pulls her daughter slowly back and watches in awe as the cock begins to enter the child. The knob forces the little girl's hole open as it advances, stretching it open impossibly wide before it finally slips inside. You stop briefly because you don't want to hurt the child. Mommy helps her daughter by licking her husband's shaft from underneath and licking around her daughter's stretched hole to increase the lubrication.
You begin to move your shaft into her, and she sighs as she feels your progress. Your wife licks your balls to excite you more and licks the child's tiny rosebud, forcing the tip inside. Your little girl loves this feeling and is happy now that Mommy has joined in.The child takes over the fucking now, and you remain still as she moves backwards and forwards on your body, fucking herself on your stiff manhood.
The child's knees are spread far apart because she's straddling you, and this allows her mummy to lick and kiss every part from her love-hole to her anus. You feel your daughter's pleasure each time Mummy thrills her with another sexual act. Your daughter's tongue is thrust into your mouth, and you suck her tongue as she fucks you. You realize that for the first time, she enjoys being in control of her penetration; she can fuck you with short strokes and then with long ones, just as she likes.
The little girl begins panting and moaning, and her mummy watches from behind the mating of her husband and her daughter. They are committing incest, and Mummy is helping them. Your wife is fondling your balls again, and your daughter is fucking you faster and harder. You know that this combination will result in your imminent ejaculation, no matter how you try to delay it.
"Fuck her, love, fuck the little slut!" says your perverted wife because she wants to watch her daughter being bred by her father. "Cum in her! Fill her little cunt with spunk!" she cries, and it's exciting you so much that you take over the fucking from your daughter. Your bottom leaves the bed as you fuck your cock up into your daughter, and she is not heavy enough to keep your hips on the bed.
Your hips buck, and she bucks with you, and she holds on tight so you won't throw her off. She's groaning now, her teeth clenched together, and she feels like a woman once again as you fuck her with long strokes. Unknown to you, your wife has been frigging her own hairy pussy throughout, and she is about to cum. She wants to cum when you do, to cum as you fill your daughter's cunt with incestuous sperm.
You feel your balls tighten in your groin, and the first blast of hot spunk begins its journey from your balls. You cry out your daughter's name and hold her tight, not wanting her to escape from your mating until your seed has been completely pumped inside her. She holds you too, wanting all your incestuous seed inside her cervix, wanting you to sperm her womb.
Mummy cries out too as she cums on her fingers, feeling the pulsing of the thick tube behind your balls as you cum inside your little girl. The first gob of hot spunk shoots up inside your daughter, and your cock jerks again and again, pumping your hot sperm deep inside her, and the child feels it.
"Mummy! Mummy! Daddy's fucking me! I can feel it! I can feel it inside me!" Your little girl is receiving all her daddy's spunk, and she's telling Mummy how excited she is. Her mother is turned on by her daughter's words, and the image of what it must feel like for her daughter having an adult cock fucking spunk into her arouses her even more.
"Good girl! Take Daddy's spunk! Let him breed you!" Your wife is thrilled to see you ejaculating inside her daughter and possibly making a baby in her, but her lust has robbed her of the common sense she usually prides herself on. The excitement of seeing her 12-year-old daughter pregnant is too erotic a thought to be dismissed, and she cherishes it.
Your cock has stopped its jerking, but you both cling to each other, waiting until every sperm has gone inside her little pussy. She kisses you, and your love for her melts your heart. You both relax your muscles, but you don't pull out of her, and she doesn't want you to. She's content to lie there on top of you and kiss you. She's pleased too when she feels her mummy's tongue begin to lick around her pussy, stretched tight as it is over your cock.
As your cock begins to soften, you feel it sliding out of your daughter. Mummy is ready though, and she catches the first trickle of your spunk on her tongue as it oozes out of her little girl's gaping hole. She moves quickly, moving you out of the way so that she can lay flat and place her little girl's pussy over her mouth. Her daughter is astride her mummy's head, and she licks and sucks your spunk out of the gaping hole as you kiss the child again.
Her mummy's tongue excites her daughter, and before long, the little girl screams, "Mummeee!" and shudders as she begins to cum, holding her mummy's head tight between her knees. More of your spunk gathers at the entrance to the little girl's hole, and another gob falls onto your wife's tongue before being swallowed. Your daughter trembles, and she holds you extra tight as she cums, saying again and again how she loves you.
When her trembling stops and her breathing becomes more regular, your little girl lies down between you, and she kisses her mummy tenderly. You play with the child's lovely taut bottom, and your wife's hand joins yours, and she squeezes it to let you know she loves you and her child.
You all sleep together several times a week from then on, and your love for each other increases. You try out all the sex acts the little girl wants to try as she learns of them, and she watches you and your wife make love together, helping where possible to add to your joint excitement. Her confidence increases as she discovers that her parents will discuss absolutely anything with her, but one worrying thing is that she won't accept any form of birth control. She wants to feel the true love of her parents without pieces of latex spoiling the experience.
Seven months later, when your little girl is 13, Mummy tells you that you will be a father again, and you're thrilled. Your little girl is pregnant with your baby, and your wife is delighted. The child makes plans for the baby as soon as she's told she's pregnant, and she appears not to have a single concern about the fact that she is so young and will soon become a mother herself.
When we talk about it together, she explains that she wants the baby to have the same upbringing that she has enjoyed. She wants the love and the sex for the baby when it's old enough. It's the bond between you, the bond of common love which will always bind you together. | null | null | Authors/John_Holland/My Daughter's Love.txt |
107,035 | TheBigLove126 | Olivia's Virginity | Young Olivia Holt sat in a Disney green room, waiting for her next scene of "Disney XD's My Life" to begin filming. She read her script in the quiet room, going over them one last time to make sure she had them down. It had been a long day of doing nothing but waiting around. She was part of filming at the beginning of the session, which started several hours ago. Since then, she was alone in the room as her boredom increased.
"Any time now," she yelled out to herself, getting frustrated.
New to the world of television acting, the young girl was not used to long periods of waiting around. Her previous acting gigs had mainly been in the commercial world where the filming time was shorter and the downtime was basically non-existent. This was just one of the downsides of a budding career that she would eventually have to get used to.
The bored blonde threw her script down on the table and looked around the room. She grabbed the remote control and flipped the television on, searching for something to help pass the time. As she scrolled through the channels, she could not find anything of interest for her. She was about to turn the television off when she flipped on a premium channel with content that her innocent eyes had never seen before.
"Whoa!" she said as she saw a woman in the movie standing in a doorway without a stitch of clothes on.
In the movie, the woman was teasing a man who lay naked on a bed with sheets covering his private areas. The woman, however, was free of any covering, giving the man, and Olivia, a full on look at her nude figure. Olivia's eyes went wide as the camera panned down to the woman's crotch, showing a close-up of the bushy pubic hair that covered her pink pussy.
"That's a lot of hair," Olivia thought to herself as she pulled her own jeans down to check her own crotch, seeing only four lonely pubic hairs sprouting from her skin.
The young blonde quickly turned her attention back to the movie in time to see the brunette woman running her hand through her bush until they ran across her clitoris. The woman moaned and bit down on her lower lip as she began to increase the speed of her rubbing. The camera cut to the man, whose hand had disappeared under the sheet and could be seen pumping up and down.
Olivia, being so young, had never seen any sexual content before. This movie she accidentally started watching was making her very curious. Subconsciously, her tender young hand slid down her jeans, into her pink underwear and against her virgin clitoris. She jumped at the first touch of her finger to the ultra-sensitive bud.
"Oh my!" she yelled as an unfamiliar intense rush of pleasure shot through her lower body.
Meanwhile in the movie, the girl was beginning to slowly insert her index finger into her visibly-moist pussy. It became obvious that, for some reason, an adult channel was activated in the Disney studios as this was not a "Skinemax-esque" movie but instead a full-on pornographic film. The camera cut back to the man who had completely kicked the sheet off and was viciously masturbating his nine-inch cock while watching the woman, who was now at the foot of the bed.
Being a young, curious girl, Olivia was fascinated by the large cock that filled the thirty-inch screen. She was still a few weeks away from sexual education class, so to her, the private parts were only used for releasing urine. However, now that she had discovered the amazing feeling of masturbation, she eagerly watched on to see what would happen next.
Back to the movie, the woman was crawling on the bed towards his cock. She softly wrapped her hand around the thick shaft and started softly kissing the head.
"What?" Olivia thought before seeing his cock disappear into the woman's mouth. "Ew."
While she was disgusted at the thought of putting something that expelled urine in the mouth, she quickly began to realize that it must not have been too bad. The woman in the movie seemed to be enjoying the taste of it very well. She pulled it out of her mouth and started stroking it hard while lowering her mouth to his balls.
"What are those?" Olivia said out loud as her hand moved faster across her clitoris.
The young girl roughly pulled her jeans and panties down to her knees to give herself easier access to her increasingly wet pussy. She watched on as the man sat up and gently rolled the woman onto her back before putting his head between her legs. As his tongue hit the woman's pussy, Olivia took a deep breath. After experiencing what a finger to the clitoris felt like, her rapidly-maturing mind went crazy with the thought of a warm, wet tongue touching her virgin area.
"Oh god...oh god," she panted as her heart rate was rising; the sweat on her forehead increasing.
The young girl closed her eyes and listened as the woman cried in ecstasy from the oral assault. Olivia imagined that the man was between her own legs, giving her the same treatment. This young blonde was experiencing the most intense enjoyment of her life and had no idea what was happening. She felt a weird feeling building up in her crotch.
Olivia opened her eyes in time to see the man shoving his glistening cock into the woman's pussy. Suddenly, her body tensed up and a massive rush of intense pleasure rocked her from head to toe. Her fingers started to get very wet as she felt a small puddle forming under her plump ass. Her eyes were shot wide open and staring at the television. The young girl had just experienced her first orgasm and she was in a complete state of shock.
"Holy shit!" she yelled, saying the word 'shit' for the first time in her life as well.
As she started to slow her finger down and relax, Olivia heard a knock at the door. Before she could react, the door opened and a man in his thirties walked in the room.
"Olivia, twenty min...holy shit," he said as he stared at the young girl, her hand still against her crotch, her face beat red, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. "I am so sorry," he said as he covered his eyes, turned around and closed the door, trying to prevent anyone else from seeing.
"Oh my god," Olivia said as she quickly pulled her jeans up and tried to regain her composure. "I...I thought I locked the door, I'm sorry," she said as she covered her face in embarrassment.
"No, it's my fault. I should have knocked," he said as he kept his back to her.
"No, no, I shouldn't have been doing...that," she said as she uncovered her eyes and looked at him. "I'm covered up, you can turn around."
The man turned around and looked at Olivia, whose face was still red. He heard the sound coming from the television and looked as the man in the movie held his cock to the face of the woman and let his orgasm explode on her face, covering her from hair to chin.
"What the hell are you watching this for?" he asked, receiving no answer. He looked back at Olivia and saw her staring at the screen with her mouth agape. "Are you okay?"
"What is that stuff?" she asked.
"What?"
"That pee on her face, why is it white?" she asked again, looking up at the man.
"You're kidding right?" he asked her.
"No, I'm serious. Why is his pee white?" she asked with a genuinely puzzled look on her face.
"That's not pee, that's...that's his semen," he explained.
"What's semen?" she asked.
"It's what guys shoot out of their penises during sex. How do you not know this already?" he asked her.
"I'm just a little girl," she explained as her eyes drew down to his crotch. "I just had this weird feeling for the first time while I watched that."
"What kind of weird feeling?" he asked her.
"I was rubbing my pee-pee and I had this weird feeling before my body got all tight and I peed out this sticky stuff," she said as she smelled her finger. "It smells funny."
"You had your first orgasm," he said. "It's like semen but not exactly the same."
"So I pretty much had sex with myself?" she asked him.
"Technically yes, you masturbated," he said before stopping. "Wait, what am I saying, how old are you?" Olivia was about to answer when he cut her off. "Never mind, it's probably better that I don't know."
"Why is that?" she asked, looking confused.
"You are under eighteen, right?" he asked, getting a nod in response."I won't tell anyone," Olivia said as she stood up on her slightly wobbly knees. "Can you teach me more about sex?" she asked with an innocent smile.
"Absolutely not, I could get in big trouble," he said as he tried to turn around to leave when she grabbed him by his sleeve.
"Please sir, I bet your penis is as big as the guy in the movie. I can see it trying to pop out of your jeans," she said, drawing attention to the massive bulge in the thirty-year-old stagehand's pants.
"I can assure you it's not as big as his; his is huge," the man said.
"Can I see it anyway?" Olivia asked as she reached for the zipper.
"Olivia, stop, we really cannot do this," he said nervously.
"You said you could get in trouble for this, right?" she asked as she teased both the zipper on his pants and the zipper on her red hoodie. He nodded in silence. "Well, if you don't show me your penis, I'll tell the director that you showed me this movie and talked about semen to me."
"You wouldn't!" he yelled.
"Not if you let me see your penis," she said with a sexy smile.
The older man sighed and looked around, trying to figure a way out of this situation but could not come up with anything.
"Okay, but just for a few seconds," he said as she happily giggled.
"Oh no, it will be for as long as I want to see it," she said as the zipper went down, dragging the jeans down his legs.
Olivia stuck her fingers in the waistband of his underwear and roughly pulled them down, causing his seven-inch cock to spring free. She stared in amazement as a big smile came to her fresh young face.
"What's your name by the way?" she asked him.
"Norman," he responded.
"You have a big penis, Norman," she said with a giggle.
"Thanks, I guess," he said with a chuckle.
Olivia smiled at him before turning her attention to the cock that stood at attention just inches away from her. She slowly dropped to her knees and took off her hoodie, leaving her upper body covered only by a thin black Disney Channel t-shirt. She looked back at the television and remembered what she had seen in the movie. The young girl wrapped her small hand around his cock and gently squeezed it. Norman did not have the girth that the actor did, but the virgin girl did not care one bit.
Norman sighed and looked down at the girl as her hand started moving up and down his throbbing shaft. He reached behind him and locked the door to the room, not wanting to be caught having his cock stroked by a girl that had barely entered puberty. He looked down at her and could see that her breasts had barely begun to bud against her tight shirt. Her face looked so fresh and innocent; he could not believe that she was giving him a handjob...let alone such a good one.
Olivia went by what she saw in the movie for a technique, which could have fooled the man. If he did not know any better, he would have thought that the girl had years of experience at stroking. He closed his eyes and took in every feeling, loving the experience. He kept his eyes closed until he felt a warm feeling against the head of his cock. He was beginning to forget how illegal this was.
Norman looked down and saw that half of his cock had disappeared in the young girl's mouth. She looked up at him and locked eyes before taking more of him inside her. She wrapped her lips tight around his shaft and started bobbing her head up and down, just like the girl in the movie. The man rested his hand atop her blonde head of hair and petted her as she serviced him.
For about two minutes, Olivia gave Norman a fantastic blowjob. He could sense that she was greatly enjoying her first physical sexual contact. She pulled away from his cock and started stroking him before drawing her tongue to his tight ball sack. Her tongue softly tickled each testicle with delicate ease. He let out a loud groan as he felt the amazing feeling from the virgin girl.
"Damn, you're good," he whispered, causing her to giggle in the cutest way.
Olivia gave each testicle another lick before she stood up in front of the man. She gazed lovingly into his eyes before moving her lips toward his and placing a kiss on his lips. She quickly pulled away and smiled with a blush.
"I had my first orgasm and first kiss today," she said through heavy breathing.
"Want another first?" he asked.
Before Olivia could answer, Norman grabbed her hand and led her back to the couch. She sat down before he gently pushed her onto her back. He kissed her on the lips first before kissing down her shirt until he reached her jeans. Gently, he pulled her pants and underwear down and removed them from the young girl. He stared at the tender young pussy, noticing only a few hairs on her. If there was any doubt that he was dancing with jail time, it was gone now. He knew what he was doing was illegal, but that did not stop his tongue from darting up her previously untouched pussy.
Olivia squirmed around on the couch and moaned as she received her first tonguing. She wondered earlier how great it must feel, and now she knew, it was better than she could have ever imagined. She loved the feeling of the warm, wet tongue massaging the inner walls of her developing pussy. She grabbed onto her hair and tugged at it as that intense feeling of pleasure was back. The beautiful young blonde closed her eyes, smiled, and cooed as his tongue covered every inch of her cunt, inside and out, with a trail of saliva.
"Oh god," she whispered as he kissed her clit over and over again.
"Olivia?" he asked.
"Yes, Norman?"
"Are you determined to stay a virgin for a while?" he asked, hoping for a specific answer.
"Do you want to have sex with me? Even though it's so wrong?" she asked with a smile.
"I've gone this far," he said as he kicked his pants off.
"Go ahead, baby," she said as she sat up and pulled him back down.
The two embraced in a kiss as Olivia felt his cock press against her virgin pussy. They made out for about a minute before Norman broke the kiss and reached down for his cock.
"This is going to hurt at first," he said. "It will only last for a few seconds."
"It's okay, I trust you, Norman," she said before kissing his cheek.
Olivia smiled as Norman pushed the head of his cock past the lips of the young girl's pussy. She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth as she felt pressure against her hymen.
"Are you ready to become a woman?"
Olivia half opened her eyes and happily nodded. She grasped onto the couch cushions as Norman pushed his cock past her virginity barrier, bursting the hymen into non-existence. Olivia's mouth was wide open as she squealed in pain. Norman lowered his head and wrapped his lips around hers to comfort the girl. He could feel the high-pitched squealing shoot down his own throat. Slowly, he pulled back and pushed forward again, slowly fucking the girl as her groans slowly died down. He broke the kiss and stared at her as her eyes opened halfway again and she forced a smile.
"Are you okay?" he asked.
"It's already feeling better," she whispered.
Norman wrapped his hands around her slender waist and slowly increased the pace of his fucking of the young blonde girl. Within two minutes, any feeling of pain in her formerly-virgin cunt was gone and completely replaced by the most intense feeling of pleasure she had felt on this day. She started to moan in joy with each thrust into her.
"Oh my...oh wow...this is great," she said. "Sex is awesome."
As he started fucking her harder, Norman's left hand slid under her tight t-shirt and reached for her tiny tits. He softly pinched her nipples, causing her to giggle loudly. She reached herself and pinched her nipples along with him. They both laughed as they alternated nipples before he pulled his hand out and grabbed her under the arms, lifting her up.
The six-foot-tall man sat down on the couch without removing himself from Olivia's cunt. The young girl grabbed onto the headrest of the couch as he cupped his hands under her round ass and bounced her up and down on his throbbing erection. He lifted her shirt up, exposing her nipples to the man. He quickly wrapped his lips around her tiny nipples, sucking on them ever so gently.
Olivia grunted and groaned as her body was experiencing many different feelings. She threw her head back and looked up at the ceiling as she started to control her bouncing body alone. Norman let go of her ass and wrapped his hands around her lower back, pulling her mostly nude body against his. She pulled his shirt up, allowing their stomachs to grind against each other with each bounce. She then put her hands on his shoulders and pushed herself up and down as fast as her little body could allow without causing his cock to slip out.
"That feeling is coming back," she said through heavy breath.
Both of their bodies were beginning to sweat, causing them to easily slide their torsos against each other. As that amazing feeling came back, she let go of his shoulder and sat down on his lap, holding all seven inches between her convulsing pussy walls. They locked in a deep kiss as a massive orgasm washed over the inexperienced girl.
Once Olivia's orgasm died down, Norman started thrusting his hips against her limp body. She wrapped her arms around his neck and made out with him while he did all the work, knowing that he would not be lasting much longer. Breaking the kiss, he whispered in her ear.
"Do you want me to shoot my semen on your face like in the movie?" he asked.
"Yes, sir," she responded.
Norman lifted the girl off of his cock as she sat down on the couch. He stood up on the couch and pointed his cock at her fresh young face.
"Do you want to taste it or just have it on your face?""He asked, hoping for a quick answer.
Without answering, Olivia closed her eyes, opened her mouth, and stuck out her tongue. Norman pressed the head of his cock atop her waiting tongue and shook his cock to its breaking point.
"Here it comes," he said.
A small shot of cum dripped onto the tip of her tongue before a large shot darted out, missing her tongue and landing across the bridge of her nose. The next shot went in her mouth before another wild shot left a thick white string across her forehead, stopping before it stained her blonde hair. The rest of his cum shot into the girl's mouth, some of it shooting against the back of her throat. As the last drop fell from him, she wrapped her lips around his head and gently sucked any seminal residue from his thirty-year-old cock.
"That was amazing," Norman said as he felt her lips pop off of him. "You were better than most of the adults I've been with."
"Thanks, Norman," she said before standing up and giving him a hug. "You opened me up to something cool. I think sex will be a major part of the rest of my life, hopefully I can find someone as good as you to be with forever."
"Cool. Well... um..." Norman looked at his watch. "You have... five minutes to get ready for your scene, you should probably clean up."
"Yeah, I don't think Disney wants a girl with semen on her face to film anything," she said with a laugh before pulling her shirt back down.
Both people quickly dressed and cleaned themselves up. Norman gave the young girl's ass a crisp slap before leaving the green room. Olivia giggled before pulling her hoodie back on, checking herself in the mirror, and heading to the set. | Mg, g-solo, celeb, cons, oral, 1st, ped | null | Authors/TheBigLove126/Celebrity Stories/Olivia's Virginity (Mg, g-solo, celeb, cons, oral, 1st, ped).txt |
107,272 | tylerthane | Pleasure Palace 1 | You could have heard a pin drop. My initial reaction was one of jealousy. Jack, my son, was my man and his cock was mine. But then I realized that from our past fuck sessions, I had nothing to worry about. Also, I realized that if my plans worked out for the store, I would be sharing Jack with more than just Jackie. Instead of saying something, I just waited for Jack's response.
He simply stood up and started taking off his clothes. He made a big show of it. First, he took off his shirt, his muscles rippling. Then, very slowly, he unzipped his pants. Turning his back to us, he let his pants fall, exposing his taut butt. My dick, by this time, was trying to make a new hole for another zipper. Meanwhile, Jackie was rubbing her crotch and licking her lips in anticipation. Jack had stepped out of his pants and turned to face us. He stroked his cock, bringing it to full 10-inch hardness. I had to restrain myself from jumping him and engulfing the monster.
Sitting down and still stroking his meat, he nodded his head, indicating that he was ready. Jackie was between his legs in a flash and had impaled her mouth on his boy meat before anyone had a chance to breathe. Her dress had slipped up over her panty-covered ass, her balls clearly outlined through the material. I couldn't see her girlcock, but knew that it was straining the material on the other side.
Sliding back, I freed my own cock and stroked it, enjoying the show. Jackie couldn't get enough of Jack. Each time she released him from her mouth, she would impale her mouth again on the monster.
"Oh, god, Jack, you feel and taste so good, I don't want to ever let you out of my mouth."
I could feel the jealousy rising. I had to act. Instead of ripping my rival off what I considered my property, I ripped her panties off her body and plunged my steel-hardened cock into her boypussy and rammed her with all my might. I grabbed her hips to force more of my raging cock all the way into her belly. I was a madman. I wanted to hurt her, to let her know that she was mine and I wasn't going to let her have my Jack. | null | Chapter 2 | Authors/TylerThane/Pleasure Palace 1.txt |
107,431 | anonymousgirlwriter | New Boss, New Chapter In Life | You should probably know the background on me, myself, and I. Having just turned 19, moved into a new city, and started to rent out my own room, I needed a job and managed to land on my feet with the most perfectly fitted role. It suited me down to the ground, and I threw myself into succeeding at it. Within a month, I was promoted to team leader and was settling well into a new chapter of my life. I had just broken up with someone I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with and needed this fresh start. I have red hair, blue eyes, a slim body, and average around 5ft 5.
The boss whom I work for is the most attractive, interesting, and down-to-earth guy I have ever had the pleasure to come across. By just looking at me, he can instantly turn me on and make me cream in my pants. In his late twenties, he has a gorgeous little boy and a partner/girlfriend who is attractive, yet she does not appreciate him at all. They constantly argue, and she never does anything sexual with him, the typical "I'm too tired" type of person. Like myself, he has a high sex drive and could quite literally do it all night. We have so much in common, and while at work, talk about sex for hours on end.
This is where it starts to get exciting. What we do is so morally wrong, yet so amazing, I don't think I ever want it to stop. After breaking up with my long-term partner and not getting any excitement, I started to become so sexually frustrated, along with my boss, who wasn't getting any attention. We started to look at each other in that "I would love to fuck you" kind of way. One Sunday, it became so unbearable that we went upstairs to the office to cash up, and suddenly, I push him against the wall and start kissing him. The excitement and domination were such a turn-on. His hands were running all over my body and squeezing my bum. My fingertips slowly moved from around his face, down his body, to undoing his trousers. I kneel down and look up as if to say, "Can I?" His face could never say no. I started to stroke his cock through his boxers before I couldn't resist wanting it in my mouth. Pulling his hard cock from his boxers, I started to tickle the tip of his cock with my tongue. Using my fingertips to tickle his balls, I start to deep-throat him until I feel I am about to gag. His moans turned me on even more, knowing he was enjoying it. He pulled my firm 32B boobs out and tickled my nipples, before holding the back of my head with his hands. I looked up at him with a cheeky smile and slapped his cock against my face. I was loving every second of it, which was slightly unusual for me as I have never enjoyed giving someone a blowjob as much as this. I moaned as I enjoyed the satisfying feeling of sucking him off. He says he is about to cum, and I don't stop the rhythm or slow down. His load shoots into the back of my mouth, and I swallow instantly, licking the rest of the cum oozing out of the tip of his cock. I stand up, and we kiss before getting changed and going home for the day, our separate ways. | null | null | Authors/anonymousgirlwriter/New Boss, New Chapter In Life..txt |
107,464 | Dave Haugen | Raping Amanda Bynes and Avril Lavigne | Yawning and opening my eyes, I woke up from one of the most peaceful sleeps I've ever had. As most men know, dumping the contents of your balls a couple of times after having saved up for so long makes for a nice restful slumber, especially when the receptacle happens to be the tightness of a young Canadian pop star!
In the completely darkened room, I lay still and listened, hearing only the muffled sound of heavy vibrations. Damn, Energizer was right, they really did keep going and going!
Reaching over to the bedside table, I fumbled for the lamp and turned it on, wincing as my eyes adjusted to the bright light. Next to me, Amanda was sleeping peacefully, her angelic little face showing absolutely no signs of distress or discomfort, even though I knew that the little dildo was still buzzing away inside her young twat.
I quietly got out of bed, so as not to disturb Amanda, and I peeked underneath the covers to see how Avril was doing. She too was sleeping, but the neat thing was that you could see her tummy vibrating as I knew that the monster dildo inside her cunt was still thrumming away. I wondered what the end result of that would be. I sure hoped that I didn't numb all of Avril's inner tissues as I wanted her to experience more brutal penetrations of her stuck-up pussy. I was sure that even when I yanked that dildo out of what I assumed would be a nice large gaping hole, that she would feel it and start bitching me out again as I was so happily used to by now. I replaced the covers and decided that it was time to make some breakfast.
Walking into the kitchen, I glanced at my watch to see that we had all slept about 7 hours. As I prepared breakfast for us, Duke sauntered happily over to me and started licking my hand. Such a good boy. I was thrilled at the idea of bringing Duke into the action today!
"You don't know it, boy," I said as I rubbed Duke's large slobbery jowls at the side of his face, "but you're going to have one hell of a fun day!" I kneeled down and received a nice wet messy kiss from Duke as I kept petting him. He really was a friendly Mastiff, despite his large size, he had a very passive temperament.
Finishing up some nice breakfasts, I went back into the bedroom carrying two plates containing two over-hard eggs, four pieces of bacon, two pieces of toast, a nice sliced tomato, and two glasses of orange juice. Duke meandered along behind me, and I knew he was probably hungry too.
"Rise and shine, girls!" I said rather loudly, causing both Avril and Amanda to jump! Amanda's eyes flew open, and she flashed me a total look of fear as it took her all of ten milliseconds to realize where she was. I, of course, couldn't see Avril, who was scissor-locked with Amanda, but with her head under the covers. Yanking them off the bed, Avril's wild eyes stared at me too, with the same frightened look that Amanda's had in them.
"Day 2, girls! Or technically, Day 1 and a half, if you consider yesterday only half a day. We sure got a lot done though yesterday, and we have a whole lot more in store for us today!"
I put the tray of food down onto the end table and started to untie the bonds that held Amanda and Avril together. Amanda's little body wiggled free from the little dildo that had been buzzing her all night, but Avril was trapped with her end still up inside her.
Tearing off the duct tape that was all over Avril's skin generated some fresh screams from the little pop star. Geez, that silvery tape sure did adhere to skin. By pulling it off, I was able to watch as the nice pearly white skin around Avril's arms and legs were pulled tautly away from her body to its limit before it finally gave and let the tape go. Avril did NOT seem to appreciate this at all.
As soon as her hands were free, Avril began to reach down in an attempt to get the dildo shoved up her pussy out at all costs, but I stopped her, smiling.
"Awww, come on now, slut, don't tell me you want your little pleasure toy out of you so early? I really know how much you want to keep it in, maybe we should leave it in all day?" I said tauntingly over the loud buzzing sounds that emanated from Avril's tiny tummy.
"Please!!! Take this fucking thing out of me! I can't take it anymore, please!!!" replied Avril frantically, obviously not happy with a large and heavy vibrating piece of rubber having been jammed up her twat for almost 8 hours.
"Fuck you, bitch. Since you don't seem to be at all grateful for the pleasure I tried to give you, I'm going to keep it in you for a while longer," I said with a happy smile.
Avril lost it!
"Fuck you, cocksucker!!!! I FUCKING hate your guts, you FUCKING piece of shit, you're going to FUCKING go to jail, you FUCKING..."
...Avril didn't get any farther in her verbal outburst than that fourth 'fucking' as I lunged forward, tackling her onto the bed and landing completely on top of her tiny 5-foot-3-inch body. I smothered her potty-mouthed lips with mine, lathering kiss after kiss upon her. Amanda watched us in fear as Avril tried valiantly to fight and push me off, but I had her completely sandwiched beneath me into the mattress. As I kissed her, my stomach pressed flat against hers, and I could feel the vibrations of the heavy vibrator right through her skin! How totally cool!
After a good minute of lathering passionate kisses from Avril, I pulled up and licked my lips.
"Mmm, that was fun! Okay, enough with the romance, it's time to eat!" I said as I stood up and watched as Avril simply rolled over onto her side, holding her stomach, not trying to take the vibrator out anymore.
"Amanda, sweetie, here's your breakfast, eat it while it's hot!" I said as I handed her a plate.
"Thank you," she replied. What manners! Amanda and I began eating our breakfasts, and I slipped a piece of bacon to Duke, who was leaking saliva out of the corners of his large wet mouth.
"Do you like dogs, Amanda?" I asked, quite innocently.
"Yes," she replied as she took a sip from her orange juice.
"Well, Amanda, this is Duke. Okay, boy, go and say hi to Amanda!" I said, pointing at her. Duke lumbered his way over to Amanda, and the most amazing thing happened...she flashed a brief smile at him as she started to pet Duke's gentle head. Wow, could it be that Amanda was really beginning to sense that despite the horrible predicament she found herself in, that I wasn't going to cause her any harm, so she was starting to relax? Hmmm, I'd have to test some of my theories today.
"Isn't he cute?" I asked Amanda, and she looked at me quickly and nodded, before returning her attentions to Duke. Amanda must be a pet lover, I thought; she was really showing Duke a lot of affection.
"How...old is he?" asked Amanda, causing butterflies to go through my stomach.
Was this girl actually initiating a conversation with her potential rapist? Okay, Mike, you ol' softy, I said to myself, you're falling in love with her, and that's only going to make it harder to actually rape her.
I loved Amanda Bynes so much, from the first day I spotted her on Nickelodeon, that I would have given anything to have her, even if that meant taking her by force. But to have her fall in love with me, well, that would have made my life complete. Sure, asking me one question was a far cry from flirting, yet it made me feel good that she was feeling safe enough to actually ask me a question.
"Duke's about three and a half, Amanda. He's a Neapolitan Mastiff, and I think he's pretty much stopped growing," I answered.
"He's so big," she said as she giggled a little when Duke plopped himself down on the bed next to her and laid passively, allowing her to keep rubbing his head and his upper body.
"Yeah, isn't he? You know he almost weighs as much as I do? I think he weighed in around 195 pounds at his last vet check-up," I added, feeling like a high school kid again.
Psychologically, I knew Amanda was still terrified of her situation, but that she was probably ready to accept anything positive that she could to keep her from falling apart, and Duke might have been just the thing to do that.
However, my deviant mind started imagining a 105-pound teenage princess being violently fucked by an almost 200-pound canine. The visual control centers in my head started sending the most erotically charged imagery imaginable to my eyes. Would it even be possible for a Mastiff of Duke's size to even get into such a tiny human female? Well, I just HAD to find out! And luckily for Amanda and I, we would be on the observing end of that big experiment. :)
"Hey, Avril. Do some jumping jacks. I want 50 of them," I said out of the blue. Where did that come from, I wondered?Avril didn't move and only continued to lie in a fetal position that must have been the most comfortable position she could find, what with that insane hammering turning her insides to jello.
"Did you hear me, slut? Stand up and do 50 jumping jacks or I'm going to whip the shit out of your ass!" I said in a more violent tone. Picking up my belt was enough to get Avril to submissively but slowly stand up from the bed and begin to go.
I smiled as I watched her go through a series of painfully slow, agonizing jumping jacks, but she managed to finish 50 of them with her cunt still filled. Once the 50th one was complete, Avril slumped to the bed again, returning to her fetal position. She had to be close to breaking, as she hadn't uttered a word the entire time.
"Very good, Miss Lavigne, you're learning how to follow orders. For that, you have just earned yourself some breakfast," I said, standing up.
"Nooo!!! I don't want any!!!" Avril said quickly. Memoirs of Dog Food, I suppose!
"Don't worry your pretty little head off, slut, you don't even know what's being served!" I said, laughing. I went into the kitchen and came back with a banana.
"Here you go, slut," I said as I tossed the banana at her. She quickly peeled and wolfed the thing down as though it was the last morsel of food on earth. Yes, she must have been starving.
"Okay, girls, it's shower time again! But this time, you'll be showering together. After all, we are going through a major water shortage, and we should all do our part to conserve our natural resources. But first, we should take that dildo out of your nasty twat, Avril. I don't think it's waterproof, and we don't want to kill it on our second day, do we?"
Avril gladly reached down to start to try and take the buzzing toy out of her, but I stopped her.
"No, no, just wait. I want Amanda to have the honors," I said as Amanda shot her head up to look at us.
"I...I don't want to..." said Amanda, but a flash of disappointment from myself quickly caused her to change her mind. Standing up, naked as the day she was born, Amanda walked around the bed to where Avril lay on her back now. I had Amanda kneel down in front of Avril's splayed open legs. Avril tensed up as Amanda grabbed the small end of the dildo that had been inside her for the night and began to gently pull on it, making it obvious that she didn't want to hurt Avril at all if possible.
"Not so fucking hard!" cried Avril as Amanda gently tugged at it.
"I'm sorry! Just tell me when it hurts," replied Amanda calmly as she tilted her little head to examine the situation, trying to find an easy way to remove such a large object from such a confined space. Of course, there would not be any easy way for poor Avril's pussy to endure this.
I had to remind Amanda of my orders when it seemed as though she had given up, and finally, with a lot of screaming from Avril, Amanda managed to pull the vibrating dildo out of Avril's clenching pussy, and it finally popped out with a loud PLOPPPPPPing sound. The dildo was covered in layers of white slime from the inside of Avril's pussy. I told Amanda to turn the vibrator to its 'off' position and to hold it over Avril's face so she could lick it clean with her tongue.
As Avril reluctantly licked the slimy dildo clean, I knelt down between her legs to inspect the damage. Wow, what a sight!
Avril's pussy was totally puffy and red, and her inner lips were kind of bulging out of it. There was no gape as I had guessed there would be, but that must be a testament to the elasticity of youth. When I started to move my fingers forward to do some of my own exploring, Avril lifted her head up quickly and tried to close her legs.
"Oh nooooo!!! Please!!! I'm too sore, don't touch me anymore, you'll kill me!" she started to beg.
"Shut the hell up, cunt, and keep licking your pussy leakage off that sex toy. Haven't you realized that I can do anything I want by now?" I replied as I forced her legs open wider and got back to business. Avril resigned her attempts to stop me, realizing that it would be a hopeless effort.
Taking two fingers, I pushed them so easily past her puffy hole and I spread it open to peek inside. Wow! When I started giving her a gynecologist's two-fingered cervical check, I felt that inside, she really was gaping! There was a lot of give now to Avril's once tightly taut vaginal walls. I could feel a lot of open space, knowing that the vibrating dildo had done a great job of loosening her cunt throughout the night. I just had to rub this in to my little singer!
"Wow, Avril, are you loose!! So much for ever giving any man pleasure with this gaping hole in the future, you slut. I hope you like African Americans because they're going to be the only ones who will be able to fill you now! Man, your hole is wrecked. Oh well, cheer up, slut, at least having kids won't be so bad now! You've already given birth to a big piece of rubber!" I said as I went on and on trying to say the most hurtful things I could to her. Young arrogant women seem to pride themselves on possessing a tight pussy, it was like a source of power for them. Well, Avril's source of power had been vibrated away big time! I just knew I had to try shoving my fist up there later. I had always wanted to know what my hand would feel like when it was crammed into the precious pussy of some young chick. I also wanted to try some anal fisting too, and I planned to do that later on in the week as well. Could life be any more fun right now?
Once I was satisfied that Avril had licked the vibrator clean, and I had finished my examination of Avril's sloppy loose gash, I stood up and ordered my two slaves into the bathroom for a nice hot shower. After pulling a chair into the bathroom to give me a comfortable front row seat, I had them both step into the shower together and explained what it was I wanted to see.
"Okay, you two. You're both aspiring young actresses, here's your opportunity to act. I'm your director, and I'll be setting the scene. You're two young lovers, totally passionate about each other, ready to share some intimate moments in a steamy scene of love and passion. What I want you to do is to turn the water on to a nice comfortable temperature and then soap each other up using only your tits. Once you're both clean, I want to see some nice open-mouthed passionate kissing and finally some nice oral. Got it? Okay, girls...action!"
You could see the look of disgust on Avril's face and the look of devastation on Amanda's, but they knew their choices were quite limited, so they started in on their commands.
It was so much fun directing these two hot young babes. For the next half hour as my cock grew to its full erect state, I watched some amazing images performed only feet in front of me. Amanda bending her knees as she rubbed her soapy nipples up and down the length of Avril's body was a big highlight. Each girl's breasts soaped up all parts of the other girl's body, causing some wonderful bending and twisting motions. The open-mouthed kissing was juvenile and lame at first, but with a bit of "persuasion" on my part, the two girls ended up French kissing like lesbian sluts, hating every second of it. Finally, the oral was great too as I had each girl lick each other's pussies out for five minutes each, and then some more kissing to end out the shower. Hey, I was a pretty good director! Spielberg and Lucas, eat your hearts out!
After stepping out of the shower, I let the two starlets dry off each other's hair and bodies, but I didn't want them dressing up in any clothes, I liked them totally naked like this. Later, I would play dress-up with the slutty clothes and other props that Steve was going to be bringing tomorrow, but for now, I liked them just like this.
Now that the softcore portion of the day was over, it was time for a little hardcore action, I chuckled to myself.
"Very well done, ladies. You performed so well that you've earned yourselves a little treat. Amanda, come here," I said as I sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Remember what I promised you yesterday?" I said as I had her kneeling on the floor in front of me and my hard cock.
"Y....yes..." said Amanda, becoming more nervous now that she was only a foot away from the huge protrusion sprouting out from between my legs.
"And what was my promise to you...."
"That...that you wouldn't rape me," the adorably cute Amanda Bynes stuttered out.
"Yes, but what was the stipulation that I wouldn't rape you? What did you have to do for me?" I asked as I began stroking her hair, causing her body to cringe as I touched her.
"That...I....ummmmm...have to be good," she said.
"Yes, sweetheart. And have you been good?" I asked.
"I've tried so hard," said Amanda, hoping that I would be in agreement with her.
"Yes, you have, Amanda. Unlike your slutty friend over there, you've been a perfect angel. So I am going to stick to my promise of not raping you. But I can't let Avril have all the fun, Amanda. I do want you to do something for me now, and I don't want any complaining or else I just might have to remove the deal we have in place. Do you understand?" I asked the adorable Amanda Bynes kneeling in front of me. She nodded yes.
"Good. So do you promise you are going to do this for me? Remember what is at stake, Amanda...your virginity."
"Yes, I'll do anything you want as long as you don't rape me, anything!" said Amanda with some renewed vigor. Man, if my cock was any harder, it would explode!
"Good girl. Now, I want you to suck my cock, Amanda. Have you ever done that before? Be honest," I said as I felt my nuts tightening up, getting ready to do their thing yet again.
"No," replied Amanda fearfully. I believed her."Well, you're about to learn how to pleasure a man, and who knows? Maybe it will even arouse you. Avril's going to help you out," I said, as I turned my attention over to Avril.
"Get over here now, slut! Get on your back, which is where you were born to be, and scoot your face under Amanda's pussy. She's going to be sitting on your face while she sucks me off," I explained. Could life get any better than this? Oh yeah, once Amanda's thin, sexy lips wrapped themselves around my huge cock, life was about to improve exponentially!
I just knew that Avril was hating the idea of having to do some more pussy eating, but she did as she was told, probably glad that this event didn't involve anything large being crammed up her young cunt for a change. Once she was in position, I pushed down on Amanda's shoulders, and she squatted her little pussy down onto Avril's lips.
"Now start sucking, slut, and don't you stop! I want to hear lots of lip-smacking sucking noises coming from down there, or you're going to piss me off," I said as I indeed heard Avril eating out the pussy that had been planted over her lips and nose, filling her senses with the pungent smells of nice, virgin pussy.
"You're very lucky, Avril, to be sucking the cunt of Amanda Bynes. Do you know how many men and women would kill to be in your position right now?" I stated, smiling at Amanda, who was too busy making little uncomfortable faces to smile back.
"Okay, Amanda, now I want you to start by licking my cock all over with your tongue, covering every inch of it with your saliva. Understand? I want you to do that for a while. Don't miss any part of it, and don't use your hands. You may begin," I said as I leaned back and prepared to watch my fantasies come true.
Trembling, Amanda opened her mouth a little, and gave my cock a quick test lick with just the bare tip of her tongue. Pulling away, she looked up into my eyes, then back to my cock as she started licking me again. Amanda was proving to be very submissive and very brave, and I admired her a lot for that. Her spunky, extroverted personality was really saving her ass by letting her accept her fate and simply follow her survival instincts to do what she had to do to get out of this situation intact. And I really believe that she trusted me on letting her keep her virginity. I didn't know if I would be able to hold up to that promise, but all Amanda had to believe right now was that by sucking my cock, she was saving her most prized possession, the one thing that all young girls treasure the most...her virginity, even at the cost of some of her purity.
I couldn't help but moan a little as I watched Amanda's beautiful face moving around my cock, and her tongue licking every square inch of it. It was so fucking erotic. Shivers of pleasure shot up my spine whenever Amanda's wet little tongue would run under the head of my cock, the number one pleasure center of nerves on my entire body. I felt my cock being covered in saliva, cooling in the room temperature air in places where she hadn't licked for a while, but feeling warmth again whenever her tongue returned. I even had her lick her tongue all over my hairy balls as they hung below. It was pure heaven.
After 10 minutes of great licking, I decided it was time to move on to some sucking. I pulled the chair I was sitting on a little closer towards Amanda, who herself seemed to be getting aroused a bit. Avril's tongue must have been flustering her, as Amanda was blushing a little.
"Okay, Amanda, that was fantastic! You did a great job, and you have saved your virginity! Now I want you to try opening up your pretty little lips and taking some of my cock inside of it. Go slow, and go at your own pace, but I want you to eventually work on taking as much of it inside of your cheeks as you can. Understand?"
"Yes," said Amanda, as she really didn't have any other answers as options.
"Good. You may begin," I said as I gently stroked and scratched Amanda's hair and scalp, trying to give her even a little pleasure back from the sheer joy she was giving to me.
Amanda licked her lips and was about to wrap them around the huge, pink, swollen head of my circumcised cock when I stopped her, wanting to take a few more indulgences with the girl of my dreams.
"Amanda, before you start sucking me off, can you say the opening line of 'The Girl's Room' sketch for me?" I asked innocently, as though I was a fan in a 'meet-the-star' session.
"What?" Amanda asked, as though I had a screw loose.
"You know, what you always say once 'The Girl's Room' sketch starts. Just do it for me, and make it sound real," I said, waiting to see if she would actually do it.
Amanda cleared her throat, and while looking down at the floor, as though she was embarrassed to say it, she spoke out:
"Welcome to 'The Girl's Room'. I'm Amber, and I'm popular."
Well, she said it, but it was expressionless, flat, and out of character. I gently lifted her head by placing a hand under her chin, and forced her to look into my eyes.
"Amanda, that was the most pathetic attempt I've ever seen you do. Pretend like we're on the set of 'The Amanda Show' and say it right. I'll give you one more chance. And look at me when you talk, please."
That little hint of a threat tacked on seemed to work, as Amanda repeated her line with vocal enunciation and inflection:
"Welcome to 'The Girl's Room!' I'm Amber, and I'm popular!"
Folks, I thought I was going to cover her face with cum right there and then! Fuck, that was great! If you only knew how many times I had jacked off to Amanda in that sketch, well, you would have thought I would have spent a small fortune on living-room carpet-cleaners.
"Oh my God, that was great, do it again, Amanda!" I said, and she repeated it just as perfectly.
"Okay, Amanda, now in your Judge Trudy voice, say the closing line of that sketch."
"Bring...bring out the dancing lobsters," said Amanda, her face blushing a bright pink from that. I felt like a kid in a candy store.
"Cool! Now say, in your best Penelope Taint voice, that you must have my cock in your mouth. Say it!" I commanded.
"I must have your cock in my mouth, please!" Amanda said perfectly. How cute, she even added the 'please', in perfect character.
"Then if you must, you must. It's all yours, Amanda," I said as I leaned back, continuing to stroke her head. I watched as Amanda had to open up her gorgeous lips quite wide to fit the head of my schlong inside of her little mouth. As though testing the width, I felt her close her lips around just the tip of my cock, and her tongue resting along the bottom of it. Fuck, that felt great. I moaned out in pleasure, to let Amanda know how much I appreciated that.
"Oh God, Amanda, you were born to do this! Now suck on it gently, like you were sucking on a straw." And she did.
"Now, start to move your head up and down. Eventually, I want to see as much of my cock inside your mouth as I can. And with your hands now, I want you to rub my cock and play with my balls while you suck me. And most importantly, look into my eyes, Amanda. I do NOT want you to remove your eyes from my eyes, is that CLEAR?" I said in a more dominant tone.
Amanda nodded her head in a yes, and our eyes met. I was hypnotized by them, as I stared dreamily into her inner soul. She never took her eyes off me with the exception of blinking, and she moved her face so nicely up and down the length of my shaft. For ten minutes, she continued, gagging and choking a little whenever my cock started going in too deeply, but I allowed her to pull her head back to get used to it, and she kept on sucking me, flicking the bottom length of my cock with her tongue that was getting flattened into the bottom of her mouth. There just was not a lot of room in a mouth as tiny as Amanda Bynes', but she did one helluva job for a first-time cocksucker. I was impressed, and was getting ready to blow!
"Okay, Amanda, I'm going to release my semen out pretty soon, and I want to do that in your mouth. Now, this next part is very important. And Avril, I want you to hear this too, you dirty little dyke. Get your twat-tasting tongue outta there, and get up here!" I said excitedly.
Avril kneeled up alongside Amanda. Her mouth, nose and cheeks were covered with Amanda's delicious pussy juices. Hell, I was quite envious of that! Avril looked really pissed, what else was new.
"Okay, now both of you listen. If you fail in this next order, you are going to pay for it BIG TIME! I will seriously whip both of your tight little asses with a ping pong paddle ONE HUNDRED TIMES EACH if you fuck up! Here is a little taste of what you'll get. Avril, stand up, you're going to help me demonstrate."
I went into the other room to get out a ping pong paddle, and overheard Avril whispering something to Amanda that she thought I wouldn't have been able to hear. What nerve! I heard Avril actually say to Amanda the following words: "You should have fucking bit that faggot's cock off."
That fucking slut! She was going to pay big time for that!
Fuck the lame ping pong paddle! I returned into the bedroom with a sixteen-inch leather tawse, pretending not to have heard the bitchy comment that Avril had whispered. This tawse was a vicious tool. The leather that came out of the wooden handle was about 10 inches long, and 2 1/2 inches wide, cut into 5 half-inch fingers. This thing promised to leave welts, and I was about to find out if that was true.
"Okay, dyke, lay on your whorish belly on the floor, now," I said as Avril did as she was told. I sat on her shoulders, facing in the direction of her legs, and by placing my palm flat down against the arch of her back, I had Avril effectively pinned to the carpet.Seeing what I was holding in my hand had her justifiably worried.
"Now, this is what will happen to both of you if you do not follow my next order," I said as I raised the ping pong paddle in my hand as high as it could go. I saw Avril's body tensing up as she knew what was coming. She just never expected it to be so fucking hard! My arm came down with a vengeance, much harder than what I was originally planning.
SPLAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!!!! Avril screamed bloody murder as I whipped that leather tawse directly over the center of her perfectly rounded ass cheeks and upper thighs. A series of five large bright red welts instantly appeared on Avril's white ass cheeks, making for a striking contrast in color.
"NOOOOOO!!!!!!! FUCKKKKKKK YOU!!!!!!" screamed Avril as her body and legs began kicking and thrashing as though I had just given her a blast of electricity from a defibrillator.
SPLAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!! My arm came crashing down again, leaving another series of welts on her painfully aching rear end. Avril's screams annoyed Duke who patiently lumbered into the kitchen.
"Bite my cock off, huh, slut? I'm a faggot, am I? You fucking SLUT, take THIS!" I said as I whipped her ass again three times, without mercy. Avril probably thought that she was going to die, or at least wished she was. I hoped she could never have imagined that her young perky body could have felt this kind of pain. I really went to town on that tight young ass underneath me.
CRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAACCCCCCCCCCCCKKKKKKKKKKKK!!!!!!!!!!!
"Your mouth is going to get you in big trouble one day, BITCH! Allow me to help correct your attitude, you fucking dyke!" I said as I hammered her ass three more times with the same resonating splats. By the time I had finished, Avril's singer-trained voice was hoarse from having screamed so loudly, and her ass was literally glowing! And I mean glowing, holy shit! I didn't think skin could get that red! I couldn't believe that I didn't split the skin on Avril's hot little ass cheeks. Tears were now flowing down Avril's cheeks, I think I had finally broken her tough girl spirit. I had to know!
"Now girls," I said, standing up as Avril again curled herself into the fetal position, sobbing like an infant, "That is just an example of what will happen if you do not follow the next command. The only difference is that I will hang you by your arms from the ceiling and whip the shit out of not just your little asses, but also your tits as well. And don't think I'll stop at 10, I'll go for 100, EACH! Is that clear?"
As I resumed my seat on the chair, Amanda's head bobbed up and down in a frantic yes. I knew she would have no trouble following orders.
"Avril, quit your fucking crying and get your red ass over here NOW!" I said. Avril quickly obeyed and knelt down by Amanda, sniffling and shaking from the heat and pain emanating from the welts I had slammed into her little tush.
"Good. Now, I am going to spurt my cum into your mouth, Amanda, and I do NOT want you to swallow it. Understand?"
More frantic noddings from Amanda.
"Good. I then want you to start snowballing with Avril. That means that I want you to lean over her and let my cum dribble out of your mouth into hers. Now Avril, your job is to rinse my semen in your mouth for a few seconds, and then I want you to snowball it back to Amanda. You will repeat this process back and forth until I tell you to stop. The girl who has the cum in her mouth when I say the word "STOP" will then swallow it. I do NOT want that sperm swallowed before I say "STOP", nor do I want any of it leaked out. The person who fails in either situation will get 100 lashes of my whip, and I mean that with every fucking ounce of my soul, do you both understand?
The result was synchronized head nodding. What a bunch of airheads, I laughed to myself, as they both nodded their heads quickly into an up-and-down yes.
"Alright, now let's get you two to do some serious snowballing!" I said as I instructed Amanda to suck my still hardened cock again. I knew I wanted to bust my nuts into Amanda as she was my main inspiration for the whole kidnap idea. It was Amanda Bynes that I wanted to inundate with my sperm every single day for the rest of my life. I lusted after her so much, for so many years, and now my dreams of watching myself cum all over the inside of her mouth was about to come true!
I wanted to do this "Down the Hatch" style, so when the time drew near to losing my white milky load, I pulled out of Amanda's wet, suctiony mouth and told her to keep her mouth open as wide as she could.
"Oh God, Amanda, here it comes...remember...don't you fucking dare spill a drop of it....just keep your mouth open....just like that...oh yeah.....oh fuck....oh man....yeah MAN!!!!!!"
I was jacking my cock rapidly with my hands when suddenly, that beautiful rushing feeling of sperm flowing from your balls to the tip of your cock bathed pleasurably through my entire shaking body. Fuck yeah!!!! I watched with elation as spurt after spurt of hot milky cum blasted into Amanda's sexy mouth, coating her tongue completely and dropping in stringy ropes from the top of her mouth down her cheeks and all over her pearly white teeth. What a beautiful sight to watch Amanda's eyes practically bulging out of her head as she felt my boys swimming all over the inside of her mouth, yet she kept her head still, too afraid of being punished to even think of moving it!
I must have cum a quarter of a cup of sperm into poor little Amanda's mouth. You could see it pooling up near the back of her throat, and she was effectively breathing through her nose so she wouldn't be able to swallow the slimy stuff down.
As I finished, I wiped the rest of my leaking sperm from my cock around Amanda's gaping lips and chin, smearing it with the white shiny liquid that so beautifully plastered her little face.
"Oh fuck, that felt sooooo fucking good!" I said as my body went blissfully relaxed. "Ok, Amanda, you know what to do."
I watched happily as Amanda leaned over Avril's face and let my sperm leak out like a faucet into her open mouth. These girls must really have been afraid of being whipped as they acted as though losing even one little drop of sperm would be the end of the world. It was a terrific show!
Avril gagged, and I thought she was going to lose it, but she managed to start controlling her reflexing throat, and she swished my cum around in her cheeks as ordered. Meanwhile, Amanda was wincing, having tasted semen for the first time in her young life, and the look on her face was not one of enjoyment. Oh well, I didn't care whether she enjoyed it or not. What I did care about was seeing Avril cumswapping my boys back to her.
Avril grabbed Amanda's head rather roughly, tilted it back, and unceremoniously spit my sperm and her mixed saliva back into Amanda's mouth, causing her to make some little mmmmm sounds. My cock was hardening again as I watched this slutty spectacle taking place in front of me.
Amanda Bynes and Avril Lavigne snowballing a quarter cup of hot sperm. The world needed to see this. I would have to make some videotapes of some perverted action later on. This was definitely keeper material!
Back and forth my sperm went, and after about the 40th pass, I noticed that my cum was losing its whiteness and was becoming more of a clearer saliva-looking color. It was also becoming much stringier. I assumed that it was because of the girls' combined salivary excretions that was causing the change. It was fascinating at how many opportunities for scientific discovery there were in the field of sexual degradation and humiliation, I thought as I chuckled to myself.
When Avril had received my cum from Amanda's mouth for about the 35th time, I told her to stop and swallow, and she did, retching a little as my sperm gooped down her throat into her little belly.
"Good girls, that was a great fucking show. We'll have to do that again later on! But right now, we have something that needs taking care of. Avril, commence eating out Amanda's pussy while I get everything set up," I said as I watched the two youngsters slowly crawl back into position. It was interesting that they chose the facesitting position again, but I didn't really care, as at least in this position, Avril wouldn't be able to see what I was setting up for her. Amanda did watch, however, with a morbid curiosity, knowing in her heart that whatever it was that I was doing, it couldn't have been for anything good.
I had decided to set up a wooden pony for Avril to ride, as I was still pissed off at the comment she had made to Amanda. What a fucking bitch. I imagined that she had been spoiled rotten for her entire young life so far and had never had anyone to discipline her. I'm so glad that I was able to intervene and to put young Miss Lavigne into her place.
I set up my adjustable sawhorse-like wooden pony that I had proudly constructed and placed it at a height that I knew would be just enough for Avril to climb up onto it with ease. I had built a height-adjusting crank on it so that I could raise the height of the "saddle" to exactly the right point. The "saddle" was simply a long plank whose edge I had sanded off and rounded, so that the top part that was to come into contact with a set of young delicious pussy lips would be safe and splinter-free. I did serrate the top a little so that any back and forth motion would cause some tugging and pulling of flesh in some nastily wonderful ways. Amanda watched me curiously. I'm sure she had no idea what the hell I was doing.
Well, she was about to find out.
"Get off the floor, Avril, you fucking whore.""I said, watching her stand up, her face again soaked with pussy juice.
"Get your ass over here, slut. You're about to pay for your little outburst," I said menacingly. She screamed as I cruelly pinched her welted ass with my fingers for a second before easily lifting her body over the wooden pony.
"What...what are you going to do to me???" Avril begged, "I'm sorry!!!"
"Too late, cunt! When will you get it, Avril? You are such a fucking bitch, you have the worst attitude I've ever seen, and I just can't let you get away with that!" I said as I placed her hands behind her neck and effectively tied them there so that she wouldn't be able to move her arms. I then tied two little leashes to her ankles to prevent any attempt at lifting a leg over the wooden pony and effectively escaping. Now, she was standing comfortably, her little breasts heaving up and down from her rapid, nervous breathing. I don't think Avril realized what I was doing until I started cranking the adjustable board upwards, staring at her with a deviously satisfied grin on my face.
With panic, Avril watched the board slowly inching upwards. The very second the board made contact with her pussy lips, she gasped and stood on her tiptoes to avoid the touch. Perfect! I cranked it up a few more inches until I felt it was at the perfect height. Half the fun of a wooden pony was getting just that perfect location where the slut on top of it was just able to avoid pressing her pussy and clit painfully onto the top of the board, but only if she stood on her tiptoes, causing her calf and thigh muscles immediate distress. Once those muscles began to tire, the slut would start to lower herself, only to find that it was agonizing to feel the board pressing into the most sensitive, private parts of her little body. That resulted in another attempt at a tiptoe, only to ultimately sink down again. Back and forth the frustrating movements would happen, thus giving the appearance of riding a pony. This was going to be a great show.
"Now, Amanda, we're going to have so much fun watching Avril ride the wooden pony," I said to Amanda, who was obviously horrified by what I was doing to her friend.
I smiled tauntingly at Avril as I leaned in close and said to her, "You're completely at my mercy. I am your fucking God! Don't you just love me, you little whore?"
I knew Avril wanted to call me every name in the book so badly, but instead, all she did was flash me a look of hate as she tried so hard to stand on her tiptoes, feeling the lactic acid building up in her ever-straining leg muscles.
"Amanda, while I watch our little slut here, I want you to come here and give me a tongue bath. Start at my feet and work your way up my body, licking every square inch of flesh that you can," I ordered. Immediately, Amanda walked up to me, and she bent down to start licking the tops of my feet and my ankles. What a degrading thing to do, I thought, but she was doing it so well! My skin shivered, and I felt tickled a few times as I felt Amanda's tongue watching me. I was focusing more on watching how every little quivering piece of Avril's flesh was reacting to her pony ride.
After about two minutes, Avril's legs finally started to give, and she attempted to lower herself down. She could only drop a half inch before her sensitive privates were getting mashed painfully into the board. Quickly, she rebounded up again, back on her tiptoes. Her breathing was becoming quicker and faster as her fate began to sink in on this devious device.
By the twenty-minute mark, Amanda had already worked her way up to my shoulders. She had complained at one point about her mouth getting dry and running out of saliva, so I horked a big wad of spit into her mouth so she could finish the job. I didn't really care that she would be finishing up my upper body with my own saliva, as long as it was her tongue that was painting it on!
Avril was really suffering now as her toes and legs just couldn't sustain her body weight anymore, and she was now in the process of squirming around on the pony, trying to find the position that would provide her with the least possible amount of pain.
She was starting to annoy me with all of her beggings and pleadings to let her down, so I jammed a huge ball gag into her mouth and strapped it around the back of her head so I wouldn't have to listen to all that racket. The moans and whimpers were a nice change, as she painfully slid her sore reddening crotch back and forth across the board under her, trying to get comfortable, which of course, was an impossibility.
To increase my fun, and to stick with the 'wood' theme, I placed one wooden clothespin on each of Avril's nipples, and I then attached these little spring-coiled weights on the ends of the clothespins. They were the kind that when you pulled down on them and let go, they would bounce up and down almost indefinitely like those quaint little Swiss miniature clocks. I set the weight-bouncing to alternate so that each of Avril's poor nipples would get pulled at different times, causing her to experience even more varied discomfort.
I licked the side of Avril's cheek, which really pissed her off, and I could almost make out the nasty words she was attempting to muffle out around that nice big gag in her trap. I just smiled at her evilly with a look of insulting victory in my eyes. I knew she hated me now more than ever.
I then laid down on the nice plush carpet onto my back, and had Amanda sit on my face so I could taste some more of her delicious teenage pussy. I made Amanda suck me off again as we 69ed on the floor right below Avril, in a position where I could peek up every now and then to see how she was coping with her riding technique.
Half an hour more, I thought to myself. I'll eat out Amanda's sweet pussy and musky little asshole for half an hour before I let Avril get off the wooden pony, and then it would be Duke's turn to have some fun!
I knew how to treat my pets right.
All three of them! :)
***PART 5 COMING SOON!!!***
Thanks to the many readers who have sent me emails about my stories. Your comments, criticism, and feedback are always welcome and appreciated.
Once again, to all authors out there, thanks for your great contributions. And to all readers out there, hopefully, you'll be inspired to contribute stuff too. I'm certainly not a polished writer by any means, just a layman trying to give a little back. My belief is that even poorly written erotic literature is better than non-written erotic literature. And writing this stuff is not only surprisingly simple, but it's also a lot of fun. So keep writing out there!
Best wishes,
Dave Haugen, dave_haugen@hotmail. | null | Chapter 4 | Authors/dave_haugen/Amanda4.txt |
107,636 | Naila Aleem | TAMHEED | Yeh sirf kahaniyan hain, magar in kahaniyon ki bunyad haqiqat par mabni hain. In kahaniyon main woh sab kuch likhne ki koshish ki gayi hai jo mulk Pakistan main ho raha hai. Jinsi be-rah ravi har tabqa main paayi jaati hai, sirf andaaz mukhtalif hai. Ameer, mutawassit, aur gareeb gharana ho ya baat gaon ya shahar ki ho, jinsi be-rah ravi ne har jagah apna andaaz dikhaya hai. Kahaan khule haal ho rahi hai aur kahaan chori-chupe ho rahi hai, magar ho rahi hai.
Pakistani mu'ashira (culture) main in baaton ko sub chupate hain. Oopar se sub namaazi aur parhezgaar nazar aate hain, magar andar se sub nange hain. Jab baat apne ghar ki hoti hai, to "meri bachi" kehte hue nazar aate hain, aur jab baat kisi aur ki beti ke hoti hai, to dil main sochte hain ki "saali ke mamme bare (big) ho rahe hain". Magar munh se sab "beti" hi kehte hain, chahe apni beti ho ya doosre ki! Agar mauqa mile, to haath bhi pher dete hain, sar par nahin, mammon par!
MERA TA'AARUF: Main bunyaadi tor par ek psychologist hoon. Mera ta'alluq Karachi se hai. Main aajkal ek NGO ke saath kaam kar rahi hoon. Mujhe is mu'ashira main har tabqa main kaam karne ka mauqa mila hai. Ameer, gareeb, darmiyana, gaon (village) ho ke shahar (city), har jagah kaam kiya hai main ne. Mera kaam larki-yon ke falah aur behbood karna hai. Un ki ta'aleem (education) meri NGO ka asal kaam hai. Is silsile main mujhe har tabqa ki larki-yon se milne ka mauqa milta hai. In larki-yon ka pehla interview lena, in ko ta'aleem ki taraf bulana, in ki maan aur baap ko paisa dena aur school main dakhla mere kaam hain. Gareeb aur mutawassit gharane ki larki-yaan chaahti hain ki woh aage parh sakein aur kuch ban kar dikhaein. Jab ki ameer tabqa ki larki-yaan bahut confused hain. Un ko har mauqa hai, magar phir bhi kuch kar nahin sakte. Ek baat sub main common hai. Sub main confidence ki kami hai. Is confidence ki kami ki wajah se log in se "faida" uthate hain. In logon main ziyada tar woh log hain jin par ghar wale bharosa karte hain. In main baap, bhai, chacha, khala, dada, phupha, mamoon, cousin, waghaira waghaira shaamil hain. Aur logon main aas-paas ke muhalle (neighbourhood) wale aur woh log jin par ghar wale aankhein band kar ke bharosa karte hain. In logon main aziz, rishte-daar, door aur paas ke dost (family friends) shaamil hain. Ghar ke naukar bhi is list main shaamil hain, khas kar woh naukar jo barson se ghar main kaam kar rahe hain. In par nazar rakhne chaahiye, kyunki yeh naukar bhi kabhi-kabhi "kaam" dikhaa dete hain.
Kuch larki-yaan hamare NGO ke kaam se muta'assir (impress) ho kar hamare NGO ke saath kaam shuru kar deti hain. Mujhe in larki-yon se qareeb hone ka mauqa mila. Yeh sab kahani-yaan in hi larki-yon ki kahani-yaan hain. Waise to yeh sab kahani-yaan hain, magar in kahani-yon ki bunyaad yeh larki-yaan hain. In larki-yon ke haalaat sun kar mera to dimaagh ghoom gaya. Main to soch bhi na sakti thi ki yeh sab kuch bhi hamare mu'ashire main ho sakta hai. Main ab bhi is hi NGO main kaam karti hoon aur ab bhi kai kahani-yaan mere saamne aati hain. Yeh tamaam kahani-yaan jo aap is web page se le kar padhenge, woh asal main sub asal waaqi'aat par mabni hain, bus main ne kuch "changes" kar diye hain aur thoda mirch-masala laga diya hai, ki sab padhne wale in kahani-yon ko poora padhen aur apni bachi-yon ko in darindoon se bachaein. Meri yeh kahani-yaan is web page par is liye rakhi hain, kyunki main gumnaam rehna chaahti hoon. Mera e-mail address hai [email protected]. Aap log chaahein to mujh se rabta kar sakte hain. Mera naam Naila nahin hai, just in case you are wondering. This is because if my NGO finds out that I am publishing these stories on the web, then I may lose my job that is paying really well. | null | null | Authors/Urdu_Porn/TAMHEED.txt |
107,685 | cyberguy | Me and Sean (mf) | Yeah, I know I don't know you, but I gotta tell someone about me and Sean. I mean, it's been three weeks of absolute heaven! But you have to promise not to tell anyone, 'cause this is just so awesome, and I don't wanna screw it up. Okay?
Yeah, well, you know Sean - Sean Williams. I mean, here's me, this little freshman, and there's Sean, a senior and dreamy football player, right? So I've had this total crush on him since the first day of school. He smiled and said "Hi" to me between classes that day, and I got all shivery and, you know, squirmy "down there." Do you ever get that?
Well, anyway, I went out to watch him practice after school. I just sat in the stands and dreamed about being with him while he ran around a bunch and caught passes and stuff. There were a bunch of other girls there, like cheerleaders and senior hotties with the big boobs - the bitches. But they didn't pay any attention to me 'cause I'm just a freshman and don't have big tits yet like they do.
I'm not bad-looking, though. Don't you think I look okay? Sometimes I look at myself... You can't even breathe a word of this, okay? Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror at night before bed. I'm standing there all naked and stuff in front of the mirror, and I watch myself squeeze my boobs and run my hands down my waist and hips and turn this way and that. Do you ever do that?
Okay, so I'm not bad-looking, just kinda short and boob-challenged. I got boobs. They're not like, you know, just bumps, but they're not very big yet. They're kinda nice, actually, if you like small ones. Anyway, I like to feel them with my hands and pretend they're Sean's hands. I get all hot and close my eyes and think about how it might be with Sean.
Well, anyways, it happened. Yeah, really! But he says we gotta keep it secret. I can understand that. He's got all these girls like me drooling all over him, and he says he's gotta protect my reputation 'cause they'll get jealous and start calling me a slut and everything. He's so cool. So we just hook up sometimes after school or on weekends and do stuff.
Anyway, I kinda hung around by the gym after practice and said "Hi" to him when he came out. I thought I was gonna die when he said "Hi" back. He said, "Are you going this way?" And I said, "Yes." I didn't care which way he was going. He put his arm around me, and we walked toward his car. I so wanted someone to see us, but there wasn't anyone around.
So he asked me my name, and I said, "Deanna," and he said that was a pretty name and that he had seen me around school and thought I was pretty. I almost peed my pants. "Really?" I said, and he said, "Yeah." I mean, I was in heaven. We were walking, and he was pulling me in close with his arm, so I just put my arm around his waist - his ass, actually, 'cause he's so tall - and we walked together. It was so cool!
So he asked me if I wanted a ride home, and of course I said, "Yes." He's got this way cool Honda SUV, you know - the big one. So we got in, and he asked if I needed to go right home or if it would be okay to kinda drive around a bit first. Well, you know what I said. Of course I said "Yes" we could drive around for a while, but I had to be home by six. That was an hour! An hour with Sean in his car, all alone. Is that cool or what?
So, anyways, we were driving out north 7th, and he put his hand on my leg. Shit! I didn't know what to do. I mean, like, no guy has ever done that to me, and I know he's not supposed to, but I kinda liked it, and I didn't wanna piss him off or act like an eighth-grader or anything, so I didn't do anything. So he looked over at me and smiled and just kinda kept moving it higher.
I was scared shitless! Let me tell you, I like froze. I mean, I was getting hot all over, like when I touch myself in front of the mirror, but I couldn't move. His hand was pushing my skirt up, and I could see a lot of leg; he could, too. I mean, his hand was going way up there.
He kept doing that, and then he found a spot to park. The sun was just going down 'cause it was Fall, and the sky was all red, and his hand went back on my leg, and he turned in his seat and just stared at me for a while before he started leaning towards me. Oh, geez! He's gonna kiss me, I thought. And he did, right on my mouth. And he pushed his tongue between my lips and right into my mouth, too.
Shit, I thought. He's gonna know I never kissed like that. He's gonna think I'm still a baby unless I pretend I do this all the time. So I used my tongue, too, and it was kinda neat, and the next thing I knew, my heart was pounding, and I was breathing funny - kinda panting like I was out of breath. And you know what else I did? I put my hand on his leg, too, way up high, like he was doing to me.
So we kissed for a long time. I got used to it real fast and learned to breathe through my nose so I could kiss for a long, long time. Gosh, his lips felt so freakin' good on mine. And his hand kept getting higher and higher. I felt it when his fingertips touched the edge of my panties, and I kinda held my breath, wondering what he would do next. It didn't take long for him to reach up a little farther, and then - OMIGOD - I felt his finger right on my pussy! He was rubbing right on my slit, and I felt myself getting all wet. I just know he could feel it, too.
Well, anyways, I pulled his hand away and said I had to get home. That was the truth. It was almost six, and, besides, his finger felt so good on my pussy that I would have let him do it forever, if he wanted. When I looked in the mirror, my face was all red and flushed. I felt like I do when I touch myself down there in bed at night, but it was better when he did it. All I had to do was enjoy it.
But I was afraid what might happen if I let him go on doing that to me, so I put my knees together and sat up straight and insisted he drive me home. He did, too. He was all nice and friendly. He said we could get together and do stuff again if I wanted. He said we needed to be cool about meeting, though. He said if I wanted to hook up, I should cut out a heart from a piece of paper and write my name on it and stick it in his locker at school. I figured he had lots of girls doing this, but I didn't care; it felt so good to be with him, kissing and feeling his hand on my pussy.
So, anyways, I can't wait to tell you about the next time we met. | null | null | Authors/cyberguy/Me and Sean (mf).txt |
108,286 | anon1940 | Maria Mounted on the Broom | You have gone to the hardware and bought a broom. The purpose of the broom is not to clean your apartment. Instead, its purpose is to provide you with yet another way to torment your body for our mutual pleasure. Namely, after cutting its handle to the right length and trimming its bristles so that their ends form a sharp ridge, you are going to introduce that prickly ridge into the tender cleft between your labia and stand with the broom suspended between your crotch and the floor. You have taken care to cut the handle so that you will have to either stand on your toes or allow the bristles to dig into the folds of exquisitely sensitive flesh that nature has designed for an entirely different sort of invasion. You will remain mounted on the broom until you achieve an orgasm induced by the unrelenting and cruel kiss that the bristles will give to your clitoris. During your time on the broom, I insist that you be acutely conscious of the image that you are making. This is not to be only an erotically charged form of self-immolation, it is to be an opportunity for you to appreciate just how beautiful the female body can be when its occupant willingly submits herself to pain in the pursuit of sexual pleasure.
To heighten your experience as well as for my own, I first accompany you into the bathroom and give you a protracted, warm bath into which I have put a rose-scented bath oil. While you loll in the bath, I scrupulously scrub your body, paying particular attention to the region that will soon be visited by the head of the broom. Using my fingers, I open your labia and stroke the stalk of your clitoris until it emerges and protrudes slightly from its fleshy nest. Your head drops back into the water as I continue, but I do not allow you the gratification that the flexing of your pelvis and lower belly indicate you are seeking. When I see that you have entered a dreamy state in which you are sexually excited but reconciled to my denial of consummation, I lift you out of the bath, stand you in front of the bathroom mirror, and dry you off. Once you are dry, I spend a long time first brushing and then plaiting your hair into a thick pigtail that will hang over your right shoulder. Finally, I dust your warm body with a thin layer of powder that gives your skin a lovely, dusky tone.
Having prepared your body, I lead you naked into the bedroom and place you a few feet in front of the full-length mirror there. Because I want to emphasize your acceptance of the ordeal that you are about to experience, after fetching the broom, I hand it to you. With a look of intense concentration on your face, you grasp the handle just below the broom head with your right hand. Spreading your legs a little, you use the fingers of your left hand to separate your labia while you gingerly introduce the bristles into the moist envelope where they will be lodged for the duration. Once you have them seated, you close your legs, rise onto your toes, and lower the broom handle until it rests against the inner sides of your thighs and its end is touching the floor.
I cannot help but be impressed by both the grace with which you perform this perverse exercise and the effect that it has on your image. After you have got the broom in place, you draw back your shoulders and thrust your breasts forward. Standing on your toes, the muscles in your legs and hips are visible beneath the femininely soft layer of flesh that covers them. Your look of concentration has been replaced by a smile of satisfaction, and, as if to perfect the image that you see in the mirror, you raise your arms and clasp your hands behind your head. Briefly, you shift your gaze and stare at my reflection with a look that is a marvelous combination of defiance and acquiescence. In response, I step forward and run my hands along the firm columns of your straining legs and the taut mounds of your buttocks. Under my fingers, I can feel a slight trembling as your muscles begin to tire. After several minutes, the trembling increases and the muscles in your calves begin to cramp. I watch with fascination as you weigh in your mind the relief that lowering your body will give your legs versus the punishment that your clitoris will receive from the bristles. Your initial, tentative experiments convince you that the burning sensation in your muscles is preferable to the prickling sensation in your vulva. However, as time passes, I notice that your priorities begin to change. You spend longer and longer periods with the bristles penetrating deeper and deeper into your crotch.
Finally, you lower your heels to the floor and stand flat on your feet. As a consequence, the bristles are now pressing hard into the delicate flesh on the insides of your labia and the hood of your clitoris. As evidenced by your gasps and the tears in your eyes, the resulting combination of pain and sexual stimulation is overwhelming. For a while, you hold your body rigidly still as you absorb these sensations. However, once you come to terms with them, your body begins to move in a subtle, highly sensual dance. Using the broom head as a fulcrum, your pelvis moves back and forth, thereby subtly shifting the bristles embedded in your vulva. Previously, your tummy had been sucked in and flat, but now it has swelled into a firm, round contour that expands and contracts in unison with the swaying of your pelvis. When, through your tears, a look that reflects bliss more than pain appears on your features, I know that you have figured out a way of achieving orgasm by impaling your clitoris on the spikes that your labia are enveloping. Though inevitable, your climax will be slow in coming, but in the meantime, you will be treating both of us to a sight that is as aesthetically pleasing as it is erotically potent.
It takes you five minutes to reach orgasm, and you are exhausted by the time that you do. I clasp your wilting body and gently extract the broom from between your shivering legs. The bristles are coated with your secretions. Hoisting you onto my shoulder, I carry you into the living room and drape you front-down over the back of a chair. Your vulva is a livid pink and your labia are puffy but remain spread in what appears to be an open invitation. My penis is already fully erect from watching your performance on the broom, and the walls of your vagina are slick when I introduce my erection into your welcoming body. Your excitement is soon rekindled by my presence in your interior, but, after your earlier orgasm, you are satisfied to let it be stoked slowly. Sensing that our coupling will be protracted, I reach under your body and cup your pendulous breasts in my hands. Mindful of the residual soreness of your vulva, I use your breasts as handles to rock your body back and forth so that your vaginal sheath massages my penis. I would like our union to continue indefinitely, but eventually my body becomes impatient and demands release. Unable to resist the seductive milking that your vaginal contractions is giving my penis, I ejaculate deep into your receptive body and, without withdrawing, slump forward over your bent back. With my lips nuzzling the soft hairs on the back of your neck, I whisper my gratitude for the sacrifice that you made to give us such mutual pleasure. | null | null | Authors/sensual_games/Maria Mounted on the Broom.txt |
108,287 | anon1940 | A Letter to Mary | You and I arrange to meet at an airport to spend a weekend indulging our fantasies. When we meet, you are dressed demurely in a linen blouse and skirt. However, under that skirt you wear no underclothes, and under your blouse you wear your hemp girdle but no bra. On the way to our hotel, we stop at a cafe, where we choose a secluded booth at which we can sit next to one another with the table between us and the rest of the room. Once we are seated, I ask you to lower your skirt, unbutton the bottom buttons of your blouse, and spread your legs to give me free access to your belly and vulva. When you have, I explore the region which you have exposed. While palpating your tummy and examining the details of your vulva, I tell you what I plan for these portions of your anatomy. Among other things, I tell you how I will want you to display yourself for me and what I hope to do. In particular, I describe how I will try to mold your body and mind so that you cannot distinguish between the pain which I am inflicting on you and the pleasure which I am giving you.
When we get to our hotel room, I have you stand in front of the mirror with your arms at your sides. From behind you, I reach around your body and unbutton your blouse, pulling it aside to expose your front. With your blouse still dangling from your shoulders, I raise my hands to your breasts and begin to strum your nipples. I do not hold them. Instead, I press my fingers together and gently rub them against your rigid nipples. By being careful not to exert too much pressure, I make sure that my fingers touch only your nipples, but the pressure is sufficient to bend your nipples back and forth with each passage of my fingers over them. While I tease your nipples in this way, I ask you about the torment that I am causing you, insisting that you make no move which would alleviate that torment. After several minutes, I have you undo your skirt and allow it to drop to the floor, all the while continuing my strumming of your nipples. When your tummy is bare, I lower one hand and reach beneath the rope around your waist to find your bellybutton, which I enter with my index finger. Pressing against the musculature which encompasses my embedded finger, I coax you to perform a licentious but disciplined dance to express your excitement and frustration. With my finger probing your navel and my other hand holding your breasts, you undulate your torso, alternately thrusting your belly forward and then pressing your buttock back against my groin.
I continue playing your body like a fine instrument, denying you consummation until the two of us cannot hold out any longer. At that point, I free you to exercise all your skills and savagery, including taking revenge on me if revenge it what you crave. We fall asleep in each other's arms.
After waking, you take a leisurely warm bath, eventually emerging from the bathroom, your hair in a pigtail seductively hanging over one shoulder. Your skin suffused with a delicate pink. While I am performing my more perfunctory ablutions, I tell you to dress in the outfit, sans the rope girdle, in which you met me, and when I too am dressed, we go out to find breakfast. Again we choose a place where we can be secluded, and again I have you lift your skirt to give me access to your lower body. During breakfast, I caress the warm, miraculously smooth patch of skin at the junction of your thighs, but I avoid your vulva.
We discuss our plans for the day, and I suggest that we spend the morning shopping for lingerie for you. I admit to you that I am less interested in the clothes that we might buy than in having you model them for me. In particular, I want you to experience the excitement and humiliation of having your body exposed and examined by strangers at the same time as you know that I am watching and enjoying your consternation. The idea appeals to you, and we find a boutique where the management is accustomed to having their female clients parade around scantily clad for the delectation of the man accompanying them. In fact, I am invited into the dressing room while a sales lady has you try on various brassieres which mold your breasts, some flattening them so that your body resembles that of a boy, albeit a distinctly effeminate one, and some thrusting them aggressively forward. In the process, she takes considerable liberties with your breasts and, when you try one which leaves your nipples bare, even gives your nipples a little tug to center them. The sight of you, naked from the waist up, compelled to allow your breasts manipulated by another woman is most alluring.
We stay at the boutique for over an hour, having you try on several corsets and ending up buying the bra which leaves your nipples bare. By that time we are both anxious to return to the hotel.
I thoroughly enjoy our walk back to the hotel. As the clearly visible pegs poking against your blouse make obvious, our visit to the boutique has stoked the fire which I had ignited during breakfast. However, as I warn you during our walk, immediate gratification of your sexual appetite is not the purpose of our return. Instead, I intend to keep stoking the fire and take advantage of your body's response, making it blossom in ways that I doubted you knew it was capable. In particular, I know that, at my suggestion, you have worn a crotch strap which you had carefully knotted so that it would apply pressure not only to your clitoris but also to your anus. I knew that you were familiar with the sort of stimulation the rope provided your clitoris but that the anal stimulation was new to you. Nonetheless, you found that having the knot pressing against your anus augmented your pleasure and contributed to the intensity of your ensuing orgasm. With this in mind, I tell you that I want to have you take the next step toward full appreciation of the pleasure that you can derive from that much maligned orifice. In the process, you are to learn that it not just your vagina that is capable of being, and remaining, opened for your own and your lover's enjoyment.
In preparation for the lesson I am going to teach you, I ask that you administer yourself a mild enema. Anticipating that it would be needed, I had packed one of those pre-prepared enema bottles in my bag. When we arrive at our room, I hand the bottle to you, promising that this was the only unpleasant aspect of your lesson. With obvious reservations but firm determination, you take the bottle from me and disappear into the bathroom. Some ten minutes later, you re-appear and announce that your body, including your bowels, are now thoroughly scrubbed. It is clear to me that the enema has taken a toll on you and dulled the edge of excitement that you had had. For this reason I postpone your lesson and stand you back in front of the mirror so that both of us can watch your body return to its former state of arousal.
Once I see that the memory of your enema has receded and that your mind is again focused on the sensations your body is receiving, I lead you over to the bed and have you lie on your back with your legs drawn up and your arms stretched on either side of your head. I then take the sash from my bathrobe and bind your legs in place by fastening the sash around the back of your bent knees and behind your neck, drawing your supple body into a fetal position. As a result, your hips are tipped up and your buttocks spread so that your entire crotch is thrust into prominence.
Having trussed you in a position which allows me ready access to my target, I fetch a tube of vaseline and a specially designed silicone dildo from my bag. I let you examine the dildo so that you will be fully aware of what it is that will be lodged inside you. When you see that, although it is tapered and very flexible, it is adorned with a sequence of smooth waves which rise and fall in larger and larger rings along its shaft, a cloud of apprehension passes over your face, but you raise no protest. Reassured that I have your permission to proceed, I begin by carefully spreading a generous layer of vaseline over your anus and the surrounding region. I then take the dildo and hold it so that its narrower end is resting at the entrance to your bowels. At this end, the diameter of the dildo is less than half an inch and the tip is smoothly rounded. I apply continuous but gentle pressure and tell you that, once you have absorbed the first wave, I will try to comfort you while your body learns how to accommodate this kind of intrusion. Slowly the shaft slips into your well lubricated anus so that you have already absorbed a couple of inches before you encounter the first ring. When you do encounter it, I suggest that you try bearing down as you would when moving your bowels. The ring begins entering your anus, stretching it to about an inch in diameter before sliding through. Your anus can now close slightly but must remain about three quarters of an inch open, with the ring that you have absorbed pressing against its inner periphery and the next ring poised on the outside.Pleased by your accomplishment, a smile appears on your face, and you welcome me when I release my grip on the dildo and reposition myself so that your head is resting on my lap. Although I know that you want your breasts to be the object of my attentions, I do not want anything to distract you from the stretching that holding the dildo requires. I therefore choose to concentrate on a less explicitly erotic portion of your anatomy. Namely, I run my fingers over the exquisitely smooth, sensitive flesh of your armpits and upper arms that your position makes totally available to me.
I continue stroking the insides of your arms and armpits, occasionally letting my hands drift to the outer sides of your breasts. From the thin film of sweat on the flesh under my hands, I can tell that the penetration of your bowels by the dildo is imposing considerable physical stress on your whole body, although it is clear that you are learning to accommodate and even enjoy the invasion of your bowels and the distention of your anus.
When I sense that you are ready, I return to my post below and again renew pressure on the dildo. With relative ease, you absorb the next ring, but I do not stop pressing and force you to accept the following ring as well. By now, nearly three quarters of a foot of the shaft is buried inside you and three rings are molding your bowels. In addition, where it passes through your anus, the diameter of the dildo is over an inch and a half, and so you are being stretched in a manner and place that you have never been before.
Certain that the dildo is secure, I spread your knees and carefully penetrate your gaping vagina with my penis. As I enter you, I can feel the dildo on the other side of the thin membrane which separates the two channels which are being invaded. The rings on the dildo mold your vaginal walls into waves, and you seem to instinctively know how to mobilize your vaginal muscles to make those waves to give both of us a massage like no other. In spite of, or maybe because of, the intensity of the sensations we are both experiencing, our mutual orgasm is slow in arriving, but when it finally does, it is protracted and thoroughly satisfying.
After our strenuous morning, we take a brief nap followed by a long shower before venturing out. Rather than leaving your breasts free, I have you wear your new bra under a plain white T-shirt. As a result, your pink nipples are showcased so that anyone who wants can enjoy their turgid state. Your loose fitting skirt is held up by a wide belt which cinches your waist and keeps your T-shirt stretched over your proffered breasts. Under the skirt, you are bare.
During lunch I announce that we have an appointment at the studio of a Japanese master in the art of shibari. I explain to you that, as distinguished from a studio where one goes to view the creations of an artist, this studio is one in which you will be the objet d'art. More precisely, the master will bind you with rope to mold your body into positions that dramatize various aspects of your anatomy. I assure you that you will suffer no harm, but warn you that you will suffer nonetheless. In particular, you will have to endure having your body held for protracted periods in poses which are designed to display its beauty. In these somewhat contorted positions, the contrast between the feminine softness of your flesh and the well-toned musculature beneath will be deliciously highlighted.
I am pleased to note the look of apprehension and excitement that my words produce. To allay your fears and give you a taste of what lies ahead, I reached beneath your skirt and squeeze your groin, in response to which you gasp and clasp my hand between your warm upper thighs.
After lunch, we head to our appointment. Upon our arrival, we are met by a petite Japanese woman dressed in a kimono. When she bows to greet us, her kimono reveals that she wears nothing beneath. Indeed, when she bends from the waist, her breasts are presented to us like two firm ripe pears crowned by dark red nipples as large and succulent as your own. When she is standing up again, we see that she possesses that oriental beauty which results from the juxtaposition of strict attention to perfection with an equally disciplined sense of composure.
Without further ceremony, she introduces herself as Yoko and leads us into a large, well-lit but sparsely furnished room containing several pieces of equipment whose purpose we can only guess. Standing in the center of the room is one of those Japanese men who exude a natural sense of command without benefit of either large size or the need for props. With something between a smile and a frown on his face, he approaches you and introduces himself as Shigeo Sato. Making it clear that my role here is at most secondary, he indicates a chair on which I am to sit.
Sato then turns his full attention back to you. Walking in a circle around you, he carefully inspects the body that is the medium out of which he will produce his work of art. On the first circuit, he does not touch you, but when it is completed, he stands directly in front of you and unbuckles your belt so that your skirt falls and lies in a ring around your ankles. While you stand there naked from your waist to your feet, he makes a second circuit, this time stopping to palpate your buttock and belly. When he is back in front of you, he drops to knees and examines your upper thighs, one at a time clasping them between his hands and then spreading them by pressing against their inner sides. With your thighs spread, you are presenting him an unobstructed view of your vulva. Much like a shopper testing the freshness of a head of lettuce, Sato separates your labia and inspects the pouch from which your clitoris has begun to emerge. Looking up so that he can see how you respond, he flicks your clitoris with his finger and seems pleased by the mixture of pleasure and anguish which his finger provokes. Returning to his feet, he grabs the hem of your T-shirt and lifts it over your head. Except for your shoes and bra, you are now completely naked. Sato seems amused by your bra and, before removing it, takes advantage of the manner in which it presents your nipples. With obvious skill acquired through years of practice, he manipulates your teats to make them expand until they entirely fill and are bulging through the windows which hold them captive.
Sato leads you over to a mat, where he has you kneel next to a pile of ropes. Sitting behind you, he has you raise your arms, straighten your back, and clasp your hands behind your neck. In this position, your breasts rise and flatten on your chest. Working swiftly but with practiced skill, he wraps a rope several times around your ribcage, positioning it so that, when your arms are lowered, your breasts will rest on the upper coil. He next uses another rope to circle your upper chest, again making several circuits and making sure that each coil presses against the upper surface of your breasts at the place where it emerges from your torso. He then has you lower your arms so that he can see how your breasts are cradled between the loops above and below them. Using short strands of smaller diameter, he connects the upper loops to the lower ones and tightens them so that your breasts are forced to protrude in an obscene manner. After having you place your arms behind your back, he binds your upper arms together, starting at your elbows and completely encasing them in circles of rope. Finally, he has you spread your legs so that you can cross your ankles, and, when you have, he pulls your hands back and down before securing them and your crossed ankles in a neat little package.
Even though your arms and shoulders are now stretched behind you in a way that would normally flatten your breasts and tummy, Sato's clever binding has done nothing to diminish the presence of either. If anything, they seem to assert their presence more vehemently than usual. Held rigid by the ropes surrounding their bases, your breasts bloom. Their color is not only a livid pink hue, their surface has acquired a sheen which reflects the intense light in which you have been placed. At the same time, your tummy has assumed a lovely, rounded contour that rises to its apex just below your navel and then plunges into the shadows between your spread legs.
Sato, clearly pleased with his handiwork, moves to a sitting position on the mat, between us and facing you. Placing his hands on his bent knees, he explains that his goal has been to transform you into an image of fecundity and that to complete your transformation he will have his assistant keep you suspended on the brink of orgasm. Without further instructions, Yoko kneels next to you, close enough to have easy access to all your blatantly displayed assets but to the side so that she does not block either Sato or my view of your body. At first Yoko seems fascinated by the size and fullness of your breasts, and she satisfies her curiosity about them by spending some time running her hands gently over their tightly stretched surface. Then, as if she wanted to punish them for their abundance, she starts slapping their outer contours. Bound as they are, they hardly jiggle as her slaps continue, but their color darkens so much that the distinction between your areolae and the rest of your breasts nearly disappears. In response to your torment, you emit a low moan and grimace. When she hears your moan and sees your grimace, Yoko chides you for your delinquency, reminding you of your role as an aesthetic object for the enjoyment of others. To emphasize her message, she scrapes her fingernails over your swollen orbs, and then drives her point home by turning her attention to your nipples, alternately pulling away from and pushing deep into their moorings.Yoko continues her assault on your breasts for ten minutes. More and more her attention is concentrated on your nipples, which she seems determined to persecute until they achieve their maximum length and girth. Besides your nipples, her major concern is that your constrained writhing or anguished countenance not disturb the image Sato has created. Each time that you shift your body or alter your facial expression, she administers a viscous slap to the tender spot just below your bellybutton, a target that is made particularly available by your position.
When Yoko is finally satisfied that nothing more can be expected from further attention to your breasts, she stands up and goes behind you. There, she first plaits your hair into a thick braid that runs down the center of your back. Then, she takes a piece of rope and weaves it into the braid, thereby both securing the braid and creating a tether. Lifting your chin with one hand, she pulls on the tether until your head tips back and you are staring at the ceiling, at which point she ties the tether to the binding around your upper arms. The resulting effect is dramatic. I am reminded of the figures of women that used to surmount the prow of sailing ships. Even the beads of sweat that now cover your body encourage this image: they might be drops of water left by the spray as the ship cuts through the waves.
Looking to Sato for his approval, Yoko returns to her seated position at your side. With fluid grace, she opens the collar of her kimono and lets its upper half drop into a luxurious silk ring draped around her hips. As I had noted earlier, her frame is diminutive, but this fact only draws attention to her conically shaped breasts which, with hardly a dip, stand out from her chest and are made especially enticing by her tawny skin and her dark areolae. The contrast between the freedom that her relatively modest, pointed breasts enjoy and the severe restrictions to which your own, more ample, breasts are being subjected is stark and wonderfully erotic.
Without a change in the calm expression that has been on her face from the outset, she bends forward and reaches a hand between your legs. Using her fingers to spread your labia, she presses the tip of one finger on the very tip of your clitoris. Telling you that it is the final step in completing Sato's image of female fecundity, she explains that she is going to teach your clitoris how to reveal itself. She tells you that her own clitoris has had this training and that the lesson is hard to bear. On the other hand, she assures you that you will not only bear but even come to appreciate the combination of vulnerability and accessibility that results from knowing your clitoris is fully distended and totally unprotected.
In spite of its falling under the shadow of your rounded belly, your vulva is dramatically displayed and completely available. It began to open during your binding, and by now it resembles a ripe fruit whose succulence has about to burst through its skin. At its center, I can already see the nodule of flesh whose education I am to witness. Bathed in your secretions, it glistens and, as Yoko's finger manipulates its tip, its stem seems to grow and throb. Bringing her other hand into play, Yoko captures its stem between her index finger and thumb, preventing your clitoris from retreating under its hood. Like a good teacher, she attempts to bolster your confidence and assuage your suffering by praising the progress you are making. In addition to her consolation, she offers you a vivid account of the anatomical changes that she is trying to produce. Namely, she says that your clitoris is rooted to your vulva like the bud of a young plant and that those roots must be loosened if it is ever going to grow. In some societies, that loosening is accomplished by draconian methods, by comparison to which her methodology is an act of kindness.
Perhaps because you are overwhelmed by the excruciating treatment to which your most delicate organ is being subjected, you make no attempt to move. On the other hand, it is obvious that you are under enormous stress: every sinew in your arms, stomach, and legs is visible through the film of sweat that swaths your entire body. Apparently out of sympathy for your plight, Yoko does not reprimand you for your occasional gasps, but her sympathy does not extend to your clitoris, which she continues to exercise for a full five minutes.
When she is satisfied that it has learned its lesson, Yoko finally releases her grip on your clitoris and stops teasing its tip. Rising to her feet, she moves in back of your bent head and leans forward so that her breasts hang against yours. Shifting her shoulders in a sensual dance, she drags her free hanging, pendent orbs across your rigidly bound ones. Again I am struck by the contrast between her small but lovely cones of tawny mobile flesh and the beautifully rounded contours of your livid pink and thoroughly incarcerated flesh. After several minutes, she backs off to a position in which the nipple of one of her breasts grazes your lips and her own lips can capture one of your nipples. By apparently mutual, albeit tacit, agreement, you draw her proffered nipple into your mouth and at the same time as she draws yours into hers. The two of you, one, with her pert breasts dangling like ripe fruit, gracefully leaning over the other, with her generous breasts securely bound and pointing toward the ceiling, create a captivatingly beautiful study in harmonious contrasts, one that I will cherish forever.
I am startled from my reverie when, after several minutes, Sato rises and interrupts your and Yoko's sensual communion. Clasping Yoko by her shoulders, he pulls her into a standing position and pushes her to one side. He then drops to his knees and deftly divests you of the ropes in which you have spent the last half hour. Dazed, you are slow to respond to your freedom and remain in the position that your bonds had been holding you. I marvel at the gentleness he displays while helping you to your feet and guiding you over to me. That gentleness disappears when, after depositing you in a chair, he turns his attention to Yoko. Approaching her from the rear, he grabs the folds of the kimono ringing her hips and unceremoniously completes its removal. Now that she is entirely naked, I can fully appreciate the delicate perfection of her figure. Nothing about it is ostentatious, but everything about it is in proportion to everything else. She has a lovely oriental face whose features are framed by her straight dark mane of hair and accented by her dark eyebrows and high cheekbones. Her shoulders are thin but nicely padded, and they slope along a pleasing line to her arms, which have a distinctly feminine layer of flesh through which a hint of the muscles beneath is visible. Her breasts assert themselves proudly in two pointed cones, and her waist looks as if it could be spanned by my hands. Below her waist, her small but rounded belly swells between her hips, which are small but ideally suited to the rest of her diminutive frame. As for her legs, they are thin but have enough flesh to give them an invitingly feminine appeal.
Sato is not immune to her appeal, but he is intent on asserting his authority. He maneuvers Yoko until she is standing below a bar that is suspended from the ceiling. He stoops to tie one end of a long rope to her right ankle and throws the other end over the bar. Standing behind her, he raises her leg by pulling on the loose end of the rope, not stopping until her bound ankle is at the same height as her head and she has lifted herself onto the toes of her unfettered foot. Encircling her with his arms, he closes the gap between her front and her suspended leg before locking the two together with several loops of rope.
Teetering on the toes of one foot with the other foot grazing her ear, Yoko makes an enticing image. In that she must be painfully aware of the blatancy of her exposure, it is miraculous that her face maintains its look of composure. Although her right breast is partially concealed by her raised leg, the nipple of her left breast stares directly at us like the eye of some mythical beast. Even more dramatic is the effect of her position on her nether regions. The stress of having one leg raised and the other struggling to support her body has enhanced the rounded shapeliness of her upper thighs. At the same time, her pose thrusts her vulva forward and reveals its interior.
In view of your own recent ordeal, it is not surprising that you take particular interest in the way that Yoko's clitoris peeks out between her labia. Noting your interest, Sato beckons you to come over for a closer look. Accepting his invitation, you approach Yoko. Standing directly in front of her, you run a solicitous hand over her features, brushing back a few strands of her hair that have strayed from her otherwise disciplined coiffure and then lowering your hand to cup the underside of her left breast. You seem fascinated by the shape and texture of her breast, which you palpate with your fingers and then lean forward to suck its turgid nipple deep into your mouth. You suckle her teat for quite a while before, leaving it wet with your saliva, you drop to one knee and begin your intimate inspection of her vulva. Using both hands, you brush aside the curtain of dark hair that obstructs your view and then place your hands on the sides of her mons with your thumbs in the crease between her labia. Like a gardener tending a nubile plant just emerging from the ground, you caress the stem of her distended clitoris, testing its resilience when you bend it and encouraging it to assert its presence. Initially, your touch is gentle, but as you proceed it becomes less so.I suspect that, having satisfied your curiosity about an anatomical structure which you yourself possess but have never seen in such lurid detail, you are taking revenge for the less than gentle treatment that Yoko accorded the same structure when she had you at her mercy. You relent only after you succeed in cracking through her stoic demeanor and elicit a gasp of undisguised anguish from her lips.
When you return to my side, Sato releases Yoko from her bonds. With both her feet back on the floor, our view of her vulva disappears. On the other hand, she makes no move to obscure our view of her nudity, and, standing next to her master, her beautifully sculpted body presents a striking image. Indicating that our session with him is at an end, Sato asks whether he has met our expectations. When we reply in the affirmative, he bows and says that it has been his and Yoko's privilege to work on as lovely and compliant a client as you. Then, with somewhat feigned modesty, he suggests that there is more that he can teach you and asks if you might want another lesson. Understandably, a tremor passes over your still naked frame at the thought of submitting yourself again into this man's hands. Seeing your reservations, Sato explains that his ropes can be used in many other ways, among which is the presentation of the female body for intercourse. For instance, you can be suspended in various positions that leave you available for entry while literally floating in the air. Satisfied to have planted such ideas in your mind, he smiles, bows again, and escorts Yoko from the room.
In recognition of the arduous workout that you have just had, we take a taxi back to the hotel. Because they are still swollen and somewhat sore, you have left your breasts free under your blouse, and during the taxi ride snuggle them against my arm and ask in a hushed voice whether I do not find them at least as attractive as I found Yoko's. I assure you that I do.
Even before I unlock the door to our room, you begin unfastening your skirt, and by the time that we enter you are nearly naked. Sato may have released you from your bonds, but he did nothing to release you from the desperate state of sexual excitement that he and Yoko systematically provoked. As a result, our lovemaking is tumultuous but brief, leaving us both in a dreamy state of lassitude. Neither of us has the energy to go out for dinner, and so we order a pizza and take showers while we wait for it to arrive.
Hesitant to broach the subject but anxious to hear your version of the our time at Sato's studio, I ask whether you have recovered from your binding. By way of response, you open your bathrobe to expose your front. Even though they have returned to a more normal color and size, your breasts and nipples are still larger and their color darker than normal. Otherwise, all evidence of its subjugation has receded from your body, even the rope marks which had been visible earlier. I am relieved to see that you have suffered no physical harm, but I am less interested in the imprint that Sato made on your body than I am in his residual effect on your psyche. However, I am at a loss when it comes to formulating the questions I want to ask and therefore choose to see if you will volunteer the information that I seek. I could well understand if you chose not to divulge the emotions you felt while the most intimate portions of your anatomy were on display and forced to perform. Thus I am surprised when you close your bathrobe and spontaneously start telling me how you feel about what was done to you this afternoon.
You speak as if you were reporting on the lessons you had been taught during a day at school, Sato being the head teacher and Yoko his teaching assistant. Sato's lesson for the day was that there is pleasure in ceding control of one's body to another individual. By choosing your breasts as the first place to demonstrate his point, he immediately forced you to recognize that even the most tender and traditionally inviolable portions of your anatomy were to be subject to his will. He emphasized his point when he bent you backwards so that your breasts and vulva would look as if they were being offered as sacrifice to some demanding deity. When that deity turned out to be a female, you were initially relieved, assuming that any fellow female would have sympathy. However, Yoko soon taught you the fallacy of that assumption. Knowing that she understood, far better than a man could, exactly what sensations she was producing, you abandoned your last hope and resigned yourself to accept whatever she chose to do. From the beginning, you knew that she would deny you an orgasm. Exquisitely exciting as you found her diabolically skilled manipulation of your clitoris, you, like Tantalus, would be forced to strive toward a goal which you would be prevented from attaining. When she finally released your clitoris and offered you her breast in return for her own, you were so overwhelmed with gratitude that thoughts of revenge did not even enter your mind. It was only after Sato had reversed your roles and gave you access to Yoko's splayed vulva that you became conscious of your desire for revenge. In fact, it was not until you looked up after examining her vulva and saw her composed features that you became determined to undermine her resolve and force her to acknowledge her vulnerability. Hours later, you now express some embarrassment about the pleasure you felt when you heard her gasp and knew that you had succeeded.
You hug your robe closer around you when I inquire into your feelings about being relegated to the role of ornament for the enjoyment of others. It is clear to me that you are still coming to terms with that idea. Nonetheless, you courageously try to convey to me what passed through your mind during your time as an objet d'art. At first your shock at the loss of control over your body prevented you from thinking about anything else. It was not until Yoko melded her own body to yours that you fully appreciated the aesthetic and erotic potency of the scene Sato had designed. After a moment of further reflection, you shudder and add that relinquishing control and abandoning yourself to the will of others is a terrifying but enthralling experience that you will not soon forget.
Seeing the disturbance that these memories cause you, I refrain from reminding you of Sato's parting suggestion. We go our separate ways late enough tomorrow afternoon to give us time to accept his invitation. However, the decision whether to accept it is yours to make, and, confident that you have not forgotten the invitation and know, better than I, its implications, I choose to wait until you have reached that decision on your own.
We retire for the night, and you have no trouble falling asleep shortly after I turn off the light. However, your dreams are filled with vivid images of scenes from the day, and you wake early. When I too wake up, I find you deep in thought sitting with your back resting against the headboard and your legs drawn up toward your chest. Based on the look on your face, I fear that your decision is to avoid another experience of the sort you had yesterday. Thus I am unprepared when, before I rise, you announce that you want to return to Sato's studios and ask that I call him immediately to make the necessary arrangements.
As she had on our previous visit, Yoko greets us at the door and escorts us to the room in which Sato is waiting. Again he undresses you, but this time I am to be naked as well, and so, while he removes your clothes, Yoko removes mine. When they have our clothes piled in neat piles on a chair, Sato leads you to stand under the hanging bar to which he had attached Yoko's leg the day before. Trembling visibly, you follow him. I am impressed by the brave, if somewhat wan, smile on your face. Once there, he bids you sit on the mat. Next to you on the mat is a heap of items whose purpose you are destined to learn, and above you is a rope whose purpose you can more easily guess. Indeed, this rope runs over the bar and its far end is wound around the drum of an electric winch. Clearly, it is the means by which Sato will achieve your suspension. Not so obvious is the role that will be played by a brass ring which circles the rope and is itself connected to another winch via smaller ropes that follow the same path over the bar as the main one.
Kneeling behind you, Sato fastens a wide canvas belt securely around your midriff. At the place where this belt passes over your spine, there is a loop to which he ties the main rope. Nodding to Yoko, who is standing by the panel that controls the winches, he has her take up all the slack. As a result, part of your weight is now supported by the belt, which has reduced the girth of your already small waist. He then turns his attention to your legs. From the pile, he chooses two straps. At one end, these straps flare out into canvas belts similar to the one around your waist. At the other end, they taper into ropes with clasps at their ends. Working on one leg at a time, he wraps these canvas belts around your lower legs, positioning them between your calf above and your ankle below and locking them in place with a velcro latch. Standing up, Sato reaches over your head and hitches their clasps to eye bolts embedded in a ring. Again nodding to Yoko, Sato has her use the second winch to draw up the ropes on the ring. As the ring rises, your legs have no choice but to follow suit, and you soon find yourself sitting on the points of your pelvis, a position which would be precarious if it were not for the support afforded by the belt around your middle. When your feet reach the level of your head, Sato signals for Yoko to stop the winch, solicitously giving your leg muscles time to adjust to their stress.After about a minute, he has Yoko resume their raising, this time stopping only when your legs are stretched straight and form a V whose apex is your vulva. Finally, Sato uses diminutive versions of the straps on your legs to fasten your wrists above your head to the sides of the triangle made by the ropes that hold your ankles.
Limber as your body is, it is nonetheless in pain. Every tendon and ligament in your legs and hips has been stretched to its limit. Particularly evident are your hamstrings, which protrude along the backs of your legs, but they are not the only part of your anatomy that is protruding. Because the rod prevents your legs from coming together, your breasts are clearly visible through the V. At the same time, your vulva has been drawn out of its usual shadowy residence and has become the most prominent feature below your waist. Your pose lacks the aesthetic refinement of the one you held yesterday, but it lacks none of the drama or erotic appeal, especially because I now understand how Sato intends to make you float while we make love.
With another nod to Yoko, your ascension begins. Both winches are at work this time so that your position is maintained as your body rises. When your vulva is a couple of feet off the mat, Sato has Yoko stop the winches and has me join him in front of your suspended body. My penis is already fully erect, bobbing up and down in search of a welcoming nest. When I am standing directly in front of you, Sato signals to Yoko with his hands, having her raise and lower you until your vulva is at exactly the same height as my penis. As soon as he is satisfied that it is, he bows and, followed by Yoko, decorously leaves the room.
There is no doubt in either of our minds about what we are to do. The only question is about the details of how we are going to do it. Before entering you, I cannot resist the temptation to caress the beautifully stretched sinews and savor the contrast between them and the pliant softness of your breasts. During my explorations, I discover that, in spite of the enormous duress it is suffering, your body has made ample preparations for intercourse: your nipples are rigidly erect, your labia are gaping, and there are copious secretions at the entrance to your vagina. You are ready for me to enter you, and I am more than ready to oblige.
I step forward, grasp you by the hips, and guide your waiting sheath onto my penis. Because your position has pulled your vagina upward, my penis is forced upward as well, slowing its progress and giving me a hint of the stress that you are being made to endure.
When our coupling is complete, we are locked together like rutting dogs, and, like them, there is no way for us to disengage until our coupling has been consummated. I shift my hands from your hips to your breasts. Using your nipples as handles, I begin to swing your suspended body back and forth. You throw back your head and emit a moan each time that you feel your clitoris rub against my groin and your vaginal walls are stretched by my deeply embedded penis.
Our mating lasts for several minutes before I sense that you are approaching orgasm. As your orgasm builds, your vaginal muscles tighten and grip my penis with a strength that I would have never anticipated they were capable. Finally, when your orgasm arrives, you completely abandon yourself to it. I have never witnessed such utter relief and satiety as is evidenced by the expression on your face when, after it is over, you raise your head and stare into my eyes.
When we finally leave Sato's studio, we have only a short time to get to the airport. Our visit has depleted us both, and we hardly exchange a word in the taxi on the way. In fact, it is only when we are heading for your separate flights that we speak to one another. At the entrance to the departure area, I ask you if you have any regrets about the past forty-eight hours. With incipient tears in your eyes, you say that your only regret is that they are over. Grateful for your response, I give you a chaste kiss on the forehead and whisper that maybe there will be a next time. With a pensive smile on your face, you nod your head and depart. | null | null | Authors/sensual_games/A Letter to Mary.txt |
108,309 | Christine "Green Leafy Dragon" Indigo | Suicide: Seven Minutes Over Tampa, v2 | You've heard about *that* Suicide show? No, not that *other* one--I was at every show they ever did up until 1978, and I never saw Alan fuck a girl on stage. (And the girl wasn't me, either, despite everything you've been told.) I'm talking about the other one. The one where they fucked each other.
There's been a lot of lies and half-truths told about that show. Let me tell you what really happened.
It was April or May, 1977. (Or it might have been 1978. I don't know. I don't keep a diary.) They were playing at some dump in Tampa, of all places. About half-an-hour into the show, some fat asshole in the back yelled, "Go fuck yourselves, faggots!" Before I tell you what happened next, let me tell you about what Suicide shows were like in the early-to-mid Seventies. Picture two leather-clad guys, one scowling and torturing an organ, the other striding around like some Fifties housewife's nightmare of a rockabilly (who had come for her daughters *and* sons, of course), both intent on making as much trouble for themselves as possible. Add an audience full of punks, people who were there to beat up punks, lost tourists, and a few true believers like me, and you have a recipe for...an interesting experience, that's for sure.
Anyway, Alan heard that and said, "What's that? You said you wanted to fuck us? You couldn't handle both of us."
"Fuck off, commie faggot!" (They had played "Che" a few minutes before.)
"You know, that's the seventh time you've called me a faggot. That's not cool." He lit a cigarette. Most of the audience were laughing, muttering to themselves, and/or standing in the back with their arms crossed. "Nothing wrong with being a faggot," he continued. I could tell something bad was about to happen, so I started inching toward the door.
"Well, if you want us to be faggots, then we'll be faggots for you." He whispered to Martin, who started into "Cheree." "Jerry, Jerry/my black leather laddie," he warbled toward Fat Asshole, about fifteen octaves above his usual range. "I love you." Then, everything changed. Let me explain what I mean. Have any of you ever been insane? If so, do you remember that head-full-of-cotton feeling you get before you do something crazy? I could feel that cotton expanding out of everyone's heads and into the air as Martin and Alan began to kiss. They lip-locked for a few minutes, with Martin continuing to play his keyboard with one hand while holding Alan's hand with the other. I could hear catcalls and soo-ees coming from the audience. Finally they stopped, and the audience flowed onto the stage, angry and ready to bash some heads in. Alan and Martin wasted no time in running off stage before the crowd could get them. I elbowed and shoved my way out of the crowd and out the front door.
Something, I still don't know what, drew me back in. I pushed everyone aside and made my way to the door that led backstage. There was a little blonde Cuban and a tall redheaded man already back there, the only two people other than me that had been clapping between songs. The Cuban was beating her little fists on the door as the redhead looked on. Finally, the door opened. Inside, we saw Alan and Martin fondling each other against a brick wall. After a nervous second, they opened up a nearby door and beckoned us inside. We went in. There was a moment of silence before someone found a light and turned it on.
The room we were in must have been a storage room, because there were a lot of cardboard boxes around. It was apparently very close to the stage, because I could hear lots of people talking through one of the walls. I could also hear the drum machine still going, stuck in "I Remember" ticky-tocky mode. Martin's keyboard was also still going somehow, cycling between two chords endlessly. The band had left the stage, but no one had yet pulled the plug on their instruments. All of the sounds were echoing through the room, and I thought about how much it sounded like Suicide when I first fell in love with them, years ago, before they'd started playing the sinister little nursery rhyme mantras that they're best known for. But I digress. I was still staring at the wall, having a Grand Nostalgic Moment, when Alan began to sing. I turned around and he was standing in the middle of the room with his cock out, stroking it, and holding Martin pressed up tight against him. His cock was hardening so quickly that it looked like a balloon being filled from a faucet. Martin's back was to us, but his arm was bobbing up and down, making it clear that he was doing the same thing. (Now, this was a brilliant idea, since that was what most people at the time thought they were pretty much doing with their music anyway.)
"Pretty boy, night in the city/Captured by, ahh...." Alan started to shake, and for a second I thought that he was going to come all over me and the rest of the audience. However, he didn't, and after taking a deep breath, he continued on singing and masturbating, improvising some kind of _Behind The Green Door_-in-a-blender-with-the-first-chapter-of_Native Son_ story. I wish I had had a tape recorder with me, so that I could have recorded it--it was fantastic. (That boot that's been circulating for ages as "The Backstage Tapes" or "Seven Minutes Over Tampa" is a fake. Believe me.) I crept as close in as I dared, close enough to be able to smell his crotch, and sat on the floor. The Cuban and the redheaded guy stood nearby, giggling to each other. Assholes. Personally, I was getting pretty turned on by the whole thing. I'd never been attracted to either Alan or Martin before--why go for stringy pretend-junkies when you can get the real thing on any street corner--but I was starting to change my mind. Anyway, I had closed my eyes for a second, lost in some Black Leather Comic Book Moonlight Screams fantasy, when I was startled by a loud yell from Martin. I opened them as he went rigid and came. Alan then yelped, started to shake again, and began to moan (yep, he sounded just like he did in "Girl"). He also came, squeezing Martin so hard that I thought he was going to cut him in two, and ejaculating straight towards me. I opened my mouth to try to catch some of it, and I did. Then, as Martin sank towards the floor, Alan stood there with unsteady legs and sunglasses askew, panting. "Are there any more requests?" he said.
Well, I had a few requests. Luckily, I could tell that the audience participation portion of the show was just about to begin. I stood up, wrapped my arm around Alan, and pulled him in closer to me. In the corner of my eye, I could see Martin beckoning the other two people in the audience, and they hesitated a moment before walking toward him. Suddenly, Martin's keyboard stopped playing the two-note sound that it had been playing, and started to play "Mary Had A Little Lamb." Alan and Martin ran out of the room, to see who was fucking with their equipment, I think. I considered waiting for them to come back, but the moment was gone, so I left. And spent the rest of the night going from bar to bar, looking for a tall, skinny guy or two to relieve some of my frustrations.
So, that's what really happened. That little Cuban ended up marrying the tall redhead and writing a book on Suicide. It's a good book, but don't trust it too much, and don't trust it at all when it mentions the show I've just finished telling you about. Maybe you shouldn't trust me either. After all, memories are a strange and unreliable thing. | null | null | Authors/christineindigo/celeb/MMSevenMinutes.txt |
108,485 | bi_kitten | Dressing Him Up | You wake up in the handcuffs, and I'm leaning over you in my bra and panties. I tell you that all I have left is lips and clothes, and I grin. I kiss you quickly and softly. I finish your makeup and slide back. You bend your knees up, and I lean against them, sliding farther back. You drop your legs, and I fall back, gasping and sliding down more, where you are in between my ass cheeks. I feel that you are hard, and I sit up, sliding up and down on it. You can feel me getting wet. I take off my bra and drop it by the side of the bed. I lean forward and kiss your neck softly. I move up, kissing your jaw and cheek, finally kissing your lips. I look you in the eyes and move so I'm facing away from you. I start to slowly stroke you. I stop, slip off my panties, and move down. I turn so I'm facing you again and begin to ride you slowly, going faster. When I can tell you're close, I stop and slide back on, but this time you're in my ass. I ride you nice and slow, teasing you, playing with myself. I cum just as you do. After, I lie down on your chest and fall asleep with you still in me. | null | null | Authors/bi_kitten/dressing him up.txt |
108,517 | InnerStrength | Working at your Desk | You are wearing a navy business skirt, with a white blouse. The skirt goes a few inches below the knee. Very professional.
The phone rings, and you answer.
"Go to the board room and lock the door."
"Why?" But it is too late; I have hung up already.
You are too interested to ignore me. You go into the board room, which is completely enclosed, but has windows out onto midtown Manhattan, fourteen stories below.
You wait for about five minutes, and are about to leave, when the phone in the board room rings.
"Hello."
"Look out the window."
"It's a beautiful day. I wish I didn't have to work."
"Do you see me?"
You scan the street, looking for my jacket, but you don't see it.
"No, I don't see you. Where are you?"
"I can see you. Take your panties off for me."
Your breathing starts to come a little quicker. You remove your shoes, then your pantyhose. Finally, you pull your silk panties down over your knees. Thanks to the skirt, you are still very modest.
"I love the pink ones."
"Where are you? I can't see you?"
"Take your jacket off."
"I can't spend too much time in here. People will notice."
"Please take your jacket off."
"OK."
You put the phone down, and slip off the jacket. You pick the phone back up.
"You know you are beautiful, don't you?"
"You say the sweetest things. Are you planning to leave me wet and frustrated, or are you planning something?"
"Now the bra."
You undo the top few buttons of the blouse, and unhook the bra. You slide the straps through your sleeves and off your arms, and then pull the bra through. You start to button the blouse.
"Leave it unbuttoned."
You feel your cheeks flush, and reach a hand down to your panties over the skirt.
"Now pull open the blouse."
You do.
"I am having a hard time seeing. Come closer to the window."
"What if somebody sees?"
"Then you will make their day."
You walk up to the window.
"Better?"
"Now dance for me."
You sway your hips back and forth. You rub your arms on your sides, and on your legs. Your hair is swaying to the imaginary music.
"Mmmmm. Find me yet?"
"No."
"Look across the street."
There I am, across the way, a floor above, in a bathrobe. You wave. I wave back.
"I checked into the hotel for the day."
I let my robe fall open, and you can see my strong, slender body. I am built like a swimmer.
"I can only see your chest, lover."
"We are even, then."
You slide some chairs out of the way and look at the board room table. There are blotters, which you push aside. You lift your skirt in the back and sit up on the table, feeling the cool oak on your bottom. Then you raise both feet and put them on chairs to either side.
"Do you want me to raise the skirt?"
"Yes."
"Yes what?"
"Yes, please."
"Then let the robe fall open."
I do. You can see I am erect.
"Stroke yourself for me."
"Raise your skirt first."
You do, and your pussy comes into view for anyone in the hotel who might be looking. But you only see me. I start to rub back and forth. You do the same, and slip a hand to your pussy.
We stroke together for a few minutes until your eyes close. You keep rubbing until you come, trying to muffle your cries so nobody hears. When you look up, I have stopped.
Where did that phone go? Here it is.
"Why did you stop?"
"I have other things in mind. It is lunchtime. Come to room 1515." | null | null | Authors/innerstr/IS_WorkingAtDesk.txt |
108,632 | tooshoes | Somewhere on the Circle of Life | you come out at night
that's when the energy comes
and the dark side's light
and the vampires roam ...
oh you're so beautiful
with an edge and a charm
but so careful
when I'm in your arms
Building a Mystery
Sarah McLachlan
A young witch, dressed all in black, sat inside her
circle at the very heart of Salem, Massachusetts, looking
up at the stars. Her name was Zatanna.
Although Zatanna was her given name, many of her
friends assumed she chose the name at initiation, when
she first became a witch. Others assumed far worse
things.
A few years ago, when she was still in high school,
a teacher typed "Zatanna" into a word processor. The dumb
machine choked on her name, thinking it misspelled, and
replaced it with the name Satan. From that moment on, the
buzz around town was that Zatanna had named herself after
the Christian Devil. To most people, this was simply a
joke, but others saw it as a warning from Heaven. She had
received three death threats so far.
People never changed, and fear never faded away,
even in a city that today welcomed witches with open
arms. Someone was always ready to lash out at anyone
different from the norm -- different even from other
witches. Any suggestion of Satanism, no matter how far
fetched, was as good as a conviction.
This controversy earned her a spot on a local talk
show. The host suggested she change her name to something
normal, something Christian, to prove her good will to
the people of Salem. She retorted that she would rather
cut off her hand than disgrace her existence. "My name is
my power."
This mysterious statement turned out to be a
self-fulfilling prophecy. It caught fire on a slow news
day, making the headlines of the local paper, and sound
bites on TV news updates. To her enemies, this statement
only proved her allegiance to the devil. To the local
covens, it made her a hero.
But to Zatanna, it was simply the truth. Words and
names had power beyond what people realized. Sometimes,
only the right word will do the trick. The headlines. The
sound bites. They weren't just random words. They weren't
just clever combinations. They were spells. Magic.
Common magic, though. Like cards up a sleeve. Like
the flicker of a candle. That kind of magic lasts five
minutes, then it's gone. So Zatanna had something to
prove. She was not a show magician. She was not a witch
only at Halloween time. Her time had not come and gone --
she was just getting started.
When she was done, she would command the essence of
life and love, and she would offer it up to the world.
Who would dare attack her name then?
Zatanna sat alone in her circle, concentrating her
energy, summoning the Sun's Beloved, as the modern
goddess was known in the Craft. Zatanna would succeed
alone where the combined energy of many covens had failed
before. They were all fools, Zatanna thought with a sly
smile. They fumbled with magic like a toy. One focused
woman could be more powerful than a dozen poorly prepared
covens. Magic was a precise art, requiring the right
tools and the right words. Zatanna always had the right
words, but finally, with a little help, she had acquired
the necessary ingredients.
She searched all of Salem before deciding on the
most obvious place to set up her circle: in the pagoda,
at the center of Salem Common. She came here every day
for two weeks, when the sun set in the horizon, and the
moon shined alone in the night sky. But tonight the sky
was black, except for the stars, as the moon was new. She
sat in the circle, surrounded by five candles, two red,
two blue, one yellow, and stared up through the pillars
of the pagoda at the stars. As strange as it seemed, the
moon was the key to summoning the Sun's Beloved. The moon
was the forgotten element, the essence that the goddess
yearned for, and needed, to be complete.
Zatanna placed a photograph of the goddess at the
center of the circle, the most intimate photograph that
she could find. She touched the image with a strand of
the goddess's own hair, and she sprinkled a few particles
of the goddess's dried blood over the glossy likeness of
her body. Then Zatanna closed her eyes, and chanted in an
ancient language: "Arak snus devoleb ot males emoc."
"Linda," she replied when asked her name, but then
she hesitated.
"Last name?" the lady behind the counter asked
impatiently.
Linda was caught off guard. She wasn't good at
names. She should have put some thought into this before
now, because whatever name she chose, she'd have to stick
with it for a while, maybe even for the rest of her life.
She wanted something credible, something meaningful, not
something anonymous like Smith. She looked quickly at the
wall behind the lady, where there hung an engraving with
two lists of names, all of them victims of the Salem
witch trials of 1692. She picked the first name.
"Danvers," She replied suddenly, and then she put
the two names together, to see how it sounded. "Linda
Danvers."
The lady's face lit up. "Oh, like the town? That's
an unusual name. Any history behind it?"
Linda glanced again at the engraving. At the top of
each list was the town or city where the victims lived.
Oh, good one, Linda, you just named yourself after a
town.
"I guess you could say that."
The lady glanced at her quizzically, then started
typing into her computer again. "And how long will you be
staying at the Hawthorne Hotel?"
Again, Linda paused. Even these simple questions
were more than she could handle right now. "How long *can*
I stay?"
This earned a frown and a sigh. "The best I can do
is a week. Are you sure you can afford it? Any
reasonable-sized room will cost $120 per night."
Linda nodded. Andrew's assignments had paid her
well, and she had accumulated a small nest egg in her
savings account. She could last a year, even at these
inflated rates. "Oh, one other thing -- do you allow
pets?"
The lady threw her hands in the air. "You're
kidding, right?"
Linda leaned over. When she stood up again, she was
holding a small patched cat in her arms. "His name is
Calvin," Linda said with a smile.
The lady smiled back mockingly. "Are you sure?
Listen, Ms. Danvers, this is a Hotel, not an
apartment building."
"But I feel like I belong here," Linda pushed,
knowing she sounded crazy. "Why can't I rent a room with
my cat? He won't be any trouble."
The lady was near the end of her patience, but she
collected herself. She glanced around and said in a soft
voice. "It's against hotel policy, but maybe if you hid
the cat in a box or something . . ."
Linda shook her head vehemently and turned away.
"I'm sorry. I was wrong. We don't belong here."
The lady shook her head. "Sheesh, some people..."
she whispered, then went back to typing at her computer.
Linda put Calvin on the floor. Several people
watched as she exited the hotel, with Calvin at her
heels. Apparently, it was quite uncommon to walk a cat,
especially without a leash.
But Calvin and Linda had a special kind of bond you
don't often see between pets and their masters. For one
thing, Calvin respected Linda. He knew from experience
that he could not escape or hide from his super-master.
He knew from the psychic connection between them that he
could trust her. He could sense her thoughts, even if he
couldn't understand what she was thinking. He wanted to
follow her everywhere.
Still, Linda had to keep an eye on him as they
entered a crowded sidewalk, alongside a busy street. She
led him across the street to a large park near the hotel,
which was all but deserted. It was a good place to just
walk around and think.
Think about what led her here.
So much had happened in the past three weeks, since
the incident at the football field. Incident -- that was
a comfortable choice of words. A euphemism. She would
never get over this if she hid behind comfortable
thoughts, belittling the horror of what she had done.
Face up to it, girl, as her college friend Mary would
have told her. It had been three weeks since you lost all
respect for yourself, for your friends, for the world,
when you got up on a stage and acted like a bitch in
heat, for all the world to see.
Linda shivered. She couldn't swallow the guilt. She
rationalized that she didn't take off her clothes;
someone else did that for her. And she didn't broadcast
those images over all the world; that was the media's
doing.
But even if she didn't commit the crime alone, Linda
knew that she was an accomplice. And what scared Linda
the most was that she wasn't entirely ashamed. Part of
her had always ached for this kind of attention. She had
appeased this perverse hunger with small indulgences. At
first, not wearing panties or a bra was enough. Then she
wore tiny skirts, and tight tops. But these indulgences
merely increased her perverse appetite, leading her into
several sexual adventures and a secret life as an exotic
dancer, where she had sated her passions, until her
palate grew wilder.
Linda felt dizzy and she leaned against a tree. Her
shame and stress was like poison in her body. She fell to
her knees and retched, trying to evacuate her burdened
soul, but she could get no relief.As much as she hated to admit it, the poison was a part of her. She had always been a shy girl, afraid of attention, yet she never hid from it. She had always hated crowds -- unless they were watching her. In fact, she would probably be a shut-in, if not for the attention her body craved. Now this hunger inside her had grown into a sex monster, and it was too much for her to handle the contradiction.
It was also too much for the world to handle. For the past several years, parents pointed to Supergirl as a model for their daughters. She was powerful, she was beautiful, she was special. Linda mistakenly thought that she was like a celebrity, but she didn't quite understand until a few weeks ago -- until Andrew explained it to her: Supergirl was not a person, as far as the world was concerned.
Supergirl was an animal, a girl of steel, an alien, an angel, an icon of femininity, a demon, a Siren, a goddess. For several years, she and Superman were glorified in the press as the embodiment of Truth, Justice and the American Way.
So when that embodiment stood before the world, stark naked, exuding raw sexuality, America struggled to find meaning in her act. Was she the Whore of Babylon or the Goddess of Love? Was she an example to follow or to condemn? Would fucking her be like heaven or hell?
Andrew predicted the chaos and confusion that followed. Hundreds of women and girls, inspired by Supergirl, saw fit to walk the streets of Metropolis nude or semi-nude. Miniskirts were suddenly back in fashion with a vengeance, especially among teenagers, who were turning Supergirl's unveiling on a football field into a ritual. The public enthusiastically assigned to Supergirl blame or credit, while the media poked at the tinder, sending the flames higher. One newscaster proclaimed that Supergirl would either raise eroticism to respectability, or she would be destroyed by her own sexuality. Only time would tell.
Linda tried to hide until the craze blew over, if it ever did, but the media hunted her like hungry wolves, following a trail that led from the Kindling Klub to her home.
Linda Lee died that Tuesday, when her life story was told on the network news. The anchors interviewed her professors from college ("Linda was a quiet but bright student"), and some of the people she hung around with ("Yeah, I did her").
Now Linda felt as lost and alone as when she first arrived on Earth, and none of her friends could help her. Even worse, they actually seemed afraid of her.
Clark called her on the phone, to give her comfort and forgiveness for everything she had done, but he wasn't out of danger himself, and he couldn't risk being seen with her.
Linda moved in with Andrew for a several days, before the SSA began pressuring him to turn her in. He told her: "I've done all I can do, but now you need to disappear for a while. Find an apartment somewhere, preferably outside the city. Stay away from the media, and eventually things will return to normal."
She doubted things would ever seem normal again, but she packed up some clothes and took Calvin with her, in search of a new home. She didn't even tell Andrew or Clark where she was going. She didn't want to be a burden or to seek their protection. She didn't feel she deserved friends like them.
Wherever she went, she was afraid that someone would recognize her. No one could watch TV, buy a magazine or surf the net without seeing her face, or another part of her body. Changing her hair color wasn't enough anymore. For once, her shy personality won out over the exhibitionist, and she wore a long skirt, brown boots and a loose sweater. A pair of sunglasses and a 70's style hairdo completed the disguise. Linda Danvers looked more like a school teacher than a sex goddess. Her public image was so much larger than life, yet she was in reality a rather slight woman. A few people stared for more than a second or two, but no one confronted her.
She was feeling quite down and without hope, as she entered a train station. There were departures heading north, south, east and west. She wanted to leave Metropolis, and she didn't care where, but she couldn't decide. She needed a plan. She just sat down on a bench inside the station, petting Calvin, while she watched a giant TV in the company of a hundred other people. They were waiting for a ride, she was waiting for inspiration -- a voice to tell her where to go.
The TV was set to Cable Network News, and of course, Supergirl was always the lead story. Linda covered her face, as CNN presented a picture of herself she hadn't seen before. Apparently, one of Linda Lee's fans snapped her picture at the Kindling Klub a few months back. Linda was bent over, while a cop pushed his billy club into her pussy. The photo was quite fuzzy, and her face was just barely visible, but Linda was the only dancer to ever perform stunts like that. It was her.
One woman sitting near Linda said: "Jeez, just look at that whore..."
And everyone did look. As long as people continued to watch, the networks would search for new pictures to show, and show the old pictures again, just in case someone awoke from a coma and hadn't seen them yet. The networks had the opportunity to legally show a naked woman on television, and they would make the most of it until the law changed, or people stopped watching, or they ran out of pictures.
The current segment expounded on religious perspectives concerning Supergirl's sexuality. The anchor was interviewing a minister from Metropolis, a rabbi from Gotham, and a self-proclaimed witch from Salem.
The rabbi was indifferent to the craze, cracking jokes, and saying this was a non-news item. "Let's get back to the real issues, like what are we gonna do about the raging vigilante problem?"
The minister said that Supergirl was a lost soul who needed saving. "Jesus is the savior of humans and Kryptonians alike. The real evil lies in news shows like this . . ."
"Thank you Reverend," the anchor cut in. "And now, would you enlighten us with the Wiccan perspective, Zatanna?"
The camera zoomed in on a young lady, with a backdrop of the Hawthorne Hotel. Zatanna wore a black silken top; her hardened nipples peeked through the fabric. Her black tights were ultra sheer, with an embedded fishnet pattern. She wasn't wearing any underwear, but the fishnet hid the details. A month ago, her clothing would have been considered daring in the least. Today, no one raised an eyebrow.
Zatanna spoke without a smile, and the dark eye shadow she wore had an eerie effect. "You are all skirting the issue, as though you are afraid of something. You are afraid of the feelings inside you, because you don't know what they mean. You don't understand that itching, that need to see more, that hope to feel more. You can pretend that you aren't affected, but you can't stop thinking about her. Kara from Krypton has done far more than undress before you. She has put the world under a spell."
"Oh, rubbish," the woman sitting near Linda at the train station muttered. "I've had enough of this filth. Why don't they . . ." Her voice trailed off, as she squinted at the TV screen and shook her head. It was yet another XXX picture of Linda performing at the Kindling Klub.
Linda looked around her, and she saw that Zatanna was right! All eyes were glued to the screen. All faces, men and women, had a blank, anxious glint in their eyes. They needed to see more, and Linda doubted that the authenticity of the photo mattered, as long as they thought they were seeing Supergirl.
And Zatanna knew! She knew what was going on! Linda's heart leaped and for the first time in weeks, she felt a sense of direction and hope. She got her ass off the bench and bought the first ticket to Boston, and took the subway from there to Salem.
Now, hours later, she felt stupid, coming here with nothing planned, and no place to stay. Did she get her hopes up for no reason? What if she couldn't even find this "Zatanna" woman ? What if she was just a quack?
She walked around Salem Common at least twice, thinking that she would take that lady at the Hotel up on her offer -- to sneak Calvin in unnoticed -- when a dim, flickering light caught Linda's attention. She stood perfectly still, caught between fear and hope. The light was coming from the pagoda at the center of the park, like a lighthouse over an ocean of darkness ...
Zatanna sat cross-legged, and stared into the flame of a candle. The image of the Sun's Beloved was etched in her mind, and she no longer needed the photograph to focus her energy. She scried into the flickering fire and saw the future.
The goddess was near. Zatanna could feel her.
She rubbed her fingers together, mixing the dried blood and strands of hair together, and touched her lips. "Arak emoc," she cried out, swaying her head, exposing her neck to the darkness, as she licked the goddess' seasoning from her finger tips. Her hand fell from her lips to her chest and swept over her body in clockwise circles. Her other hand fell into her lap, and her finger snaked through a secret entrance in her tights. "Oh, arak emoc!"
Zatanna collapsed and lay sprawled out within her circle, sweat on her brow and a smile on her face. Her message had gotten through. She was sure of it. But she wasn't expecting an answer to her calling so soon.
She opened her eyes and stared through the structure's portal at the twinkling stars hanging over Salem's night sky. A form climbed the pagoda's steps, blocking her view. Zatanna drew her legs tightly together and propped herself onto an elbow. For a moment, she doubted herself -- after all, she had never summoned a goddess before. The figure standing over her was an earthly Salemite, no doubt. A mere passerby. Another witch, or a friend.A police officer had been alerted to her pagan rituals.
A moment of silence passed, and Zatanna could feel the personal energy around the silhouette. It was awesome. And Zatanna doubted herself. Who was she to contact a goddess? Who was she to command such power? If Zatanna hesitated any longer, the goddess might fly away. Who was she? How could she forget her own name! She was Zatanna!
In one quick move, she was on her feet, eye to eye with the Sun's Beloved. Zatanna raised her chin high. She wasn't a tall woman, but even in bare feet, she was two inches taller than the goddess. Her confidence soared.
Linda's eyes lit up with recognition, and then she looked away in embarrassment when she considered what Zatanna was doing within her circle. She could smell Zatanna's excitement in the air and see the proof: a dark stain between Zatanna's legs. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to see you doing... that. I was looking for..." Linda's voice trailed off in uncertainty.
Zatanna put a hand on Linda's shoulder, immobilizing her, as Zatanna finished Linda's thought: "You were looking for the truth, weren't you? So why look away now in shame? What you saw was the truth. Passion. Desire. Feelings you are familiar with. Feelings you exude with every breath."
"No!" Linda shook her head, trying to deny it. "I don't want that anymore."
Zatanna smiled. "You want it, but you are afraid. You are afraid to let the goddess in you loose. You are afraid of your potential. You are afraid of losing control. But you were never in control, were you? There was always some amateur recklessly playing with the fire. But I'm no amateur. In the right hands, you'll be very user-friendly."
Linda was like a computer mouse under Zatanna's fingertips. With no force at all, Zatanna dragged Linda into her circle and backed her into the railing of the pagoda.
"You know me?" Linda asked, shivering under Zatanna's fingertips, as she felt her body reacting against her will. Was Zatanna telling the truth, and Linda had no will at all?
Zatanna's fingers moved up from Linda's shoulder to frame her face and familiarize herself with Linda's software. "I know you better than you know yourself."
"Who am I?" Linda asked desperately, shying away from Zatanna's probing eyes.
Zatanna touched Linda's dyed, permed hair and replied, "You know who you are, but you are hiding." Zatanna shook her head disapprovingly as her fingers surfed over Linda's heavy sweater and long woolen skirt.
"*What* am I?" Linda pleaded, while staring into Zatanna's hypnotic eyes. Linda felt like she was falling, so she grabbed the railing for support.
"You know what you are," Zatanna whispered as her hand dove beneath Linda's skirt and dragged up her thigh. "You can pretend you don't know, but underneath, you don't even try to hide. Soft, wet, hot, and naked. You are fire, and a fire cannot control itself. Do you really want to know what you are? Let me show you."
Zatanna's finger found Linda's button and double-clicked.
"Arak otni sannataz smra peels. Ot flesruoy rednerrus."
At the Daily Planet, Clark Kent kept his office locked. He paced around anxiously, filled with worry, after Andrew called about an hour ago. Linda had left without a trace. He mentioned that she was very upset. He said he would call back when his agents found her again. That was five hours ago.
"Damn you, Linda," Clark muttered under his breath, almost as angry as he was worried. After everything he had done for Linda over the years, she had never given him a moment of peace. In his twisted state of mind, he could only remember the screw-ups. It was almost like she was trying to destroy herself. The Cuban fiasco. The skirt-flirting. The exhibition in Midvale. The definitive performance at the Kindling Klub; she almost took Clark down with her in that disaster.
What if she went that final step towards self-destruction? That's what scared him the most. She had been feeling terribly lost and confused lately -- who knew what she would do?
And how would Clark live with himself? Maybe he should have told her something. Maybe he could have done more for her, if he just opened up to her, instead of acting like a big brother all the time.
"Damn you Linda," he repeated, "for making me care so much."
The phone rang on his desk.
"Kent," he answered sharply.
"I'm at the hospital," Andrew replied.
Clark's heart stopped in fear. Then it skipped a beat, and he fell against the desk when Andrew finished what he had to say.
Linda awoke to a furry paw batting in her face and a worried meow.
She opened her eyes slowly and smiled like she might to a crying child. "Oh, hi there, boy. What's wrong?" she whispered, and rubbed Calvin on the scruff.
Then her smile dropped as she looked around her.
"Oh, here we go again!" she exclaimed while sitting up, realizing that she didn't have a clue where she was. She didn't even know if it was night or day. "Why can't I ever sleep without the whole world changing around me?"
She was lying naked on a circular bed of black furs and black sheets. She was confused for a moment, because she didn't exactly feel naked. She didn't exactly feel clothed, either. Her body glowed like satin, and she felt warm, like she was lying in the sunlight. Then she understood. Someone had anointed her body with oils while she had slept, and had rubbed it into her skin. Someone had done a very thorough job, she noted, as she examined between her toes and even the crack of her ass. Her hair was moist, but not with oil. Someone had washed the dye from her hair, returning it to its natural blonde.
Mirrors surrounded the room, and when she looked up at the ceiling, she was looking down at herself. Her body glowed like a heavenly body against the black background. Like a gem on display. Like a fire in the night.
Okay, she decided, this is just a little too strange. She stepped out of bed and looked around for her clothes. No such luck. The small room didn't even have a bureau or a closet. The room was empty, except for the circular bed, a fold-up chair, and a small bedside table, covered with vials, bowls, candles and a well-worn leather-bound book titled: Book of Shadows.
Linda leafed through the pages briefly, finding various references to oils and magical stones, and a whole section handwritten in a language she couldn't understand. She carefully closed the book and positioned it exactly as she found it.
She turned her attention to the vials, which contained clear liquids with the slightest hint of color and strong scents. Each vial was identified by a small white label. Some labels were falling off. Others were discolored, so the words penciled on them were almost unreadable. Linda squinted and sounded out the words aloud. "Vanilla... Musk... Dragon's blood?"
"Oils," a voice said, startling her. Zatanna was standing at the entrance to the room, which was merely a curtain. "It's just an exotic name. We didn't kill a dragon to get it. What are you doing out of bed?" Zatanna made a subtle hand gesture and said, "Arak no elcric yal. Ot flesruoy rednerrus."
Calvin leapt from the bed, as Linda settled on the furs and lay on her back. Unconsciously, she parted her legs and showcased her body. Consciously, she asked, "Where are my clothes?"
Zatanna shrugged as she moved closer. "They didn't suit you. You've spent so much time hiding behind clothes and costumes, while the goddess within you wanted to get out. This is all you'll want for clothing and a costume from now on."
Zatanna held a stunning necklace in her hand. The chain of delicate gold links led to an ornament with a golden pentagram-shaped base. A single tiny diamond accented each of the five corners, and the red sunstones mounted within formed a pattern. It was a variation on her costume's S-symbol.
Linda lifted her head from the bed and shivered as Zatanna put the gift around her neck. Her whole body reacted, and she couldn't understand why. She felt very warm inside. Maybe she was feeling gratitude? "Thank you," she replied. "But I can't accept this. It's too expensive."
"You have already accepted it," Zatanna said with a smile and an admiring glance. "Cost doesn't matter, as long as it's the right gift. The right gift to the right goddess."
Linda giggled, feeling like this was a game. "Goddess? Why did you call me that? I am not a goddess. You are the one with all the power. I'm just laying here. What kind of goddess does that make me?"
"The reluctant kind." Zatanna moved closer to Linda, and she felt her confidence waver. "The kind that stumbles into her own fate."
Linda bit her lip in anticipation as Zatanna dipped her hand into a bowl of oil and drew tiny circles around Linda's nipples with her dripping fingertips. Linda held her breath. Weakly, in the back of her mind, she argued with herself. She sensed that she was a prisoner here, if not by force then by mind control. Maybe she should resist. But there was something in these oils that excited her skin, awakening her passion, stealing her will; Linda reached out to push Zatanna away, before her will was completely gone. But rather than pushing her away, Linda found herself feeling Zatanna's body through her silk blouse. She urged Zatanna closer. Linda wasn't losing her will at all; she was losing her resistance.
Zatanna's hands were shaking. Linda could see the reaction in Zatanna's eyes, mirroring her own. "How can you think that you don't have any power over me?" Zatanna whispered passionately, as she kneeled one knee on the bed and drained the remaining oil from the bowl onto Linda's breasts. "Can't you hear it in my voice?"
Yes, Linda could hear her passion. And that made Linda feel weaker and burn with a growing energy. Zatanna had all the control, while Linda lay paralyzed. Or so it seemed.Zatanna touched Linda's cheek with one hand, while her other hand massaged Linda's breasts, rubbing the oil into her already saturated skin, sliding over her sleek belly, caressing down her side, pausing over her hips, then stroking up her thighs on the inside, towards her pussy. "Can't you feel it in my fingers?"
Linda's eyes were tiny slits as she parted her thighs. Her pussy was already soaked, not needing any oil for lubrication. Zatanna's fingers hovered just inches from the target before pulling away.
Linda squirmed and arched her back in torturous desire. "No, please don't stop..."
But Zatanna wasn't trying to tease Linda. Zatanna lifted her blouse over her head, breaking eye contact for barely a second or two. Her hair, which was perfectly combed, was now in disarray. Her eyes, once steady, could now barely focus. She pushed her tights down to the floor and stepped out of them. Her pussy was hairless and wet, just like Linda's. "Don't you get it yet?"
She climbed on top of Linda and kissed her lips to lips, breast to breast, and legs intertwined. "I'm just feeding the fire," Zatanna whispered, between kisses, as she descended down Linda's body, kissing, tasting and sucking along the way. The aroma and the piquancy of the oils excited an ancient part of Zatanna's mind. She put her seasoned fingers in Linda's mouth. Linda's hips bucked in reaction as Zatanna led her goddess to her primal source.
"You are the keeper of the fire," Zatanna breathed the words out as she climbed down off the bed. She kneeled before Linda's burning pussy and told: "If you cover a fire, it will go out. But if you feed a fire enough..."
Linda screamed, and her legs wrapped around Zatanna's shoulders, pulling her in tight, as Zatanna stoked the fire with her tongue. The flame was expanding from her core. She squirmed under the heat, while the rest of her body ached to be touched. She was like a torch, covered in oil, bursting into flames. Zatanna's hands pushed the flames up her body, squeezing her breasts, while fanning the fire at its source.
Then finally, as Linda's mind disappeared, she understood. There was no limit to her passion. If you feed a fire enough, it would keep on growing and growing, until...
But just before Zatanna could fan the flames beyond control, a voice from outside the room stunted her magic.
"Hello in there!" The voice yelled. "I smell sex and candy. Are you sneaking into the cookie jar?"
Zatanna was shocked back into awareness, tearing her psyche from Linda's.
"Oh, no! Don't stop now!" Linda cried out, writhing as if in pain, when Zatanna pulled away. Linda's body was left burning without a flame, snuffing out her sexual energies in a discharge of smoke.
Zatanna struggled to collect herself. She climbed into the bed with Linda, held her gently and brought her down from her sexual high. She stared into Linda's eyes until Linda's gaze was steady and her mind was coherent. Then Zatanna said: "Look beyond this vampire. Meet someone new."
Sun and moon. Life and death. Passion and emptiness. Whenever these opposites meet, nature succumbs to magic. The elements open, and akasha is set free.
Most people today didn't believe in magic, even when they saw it for their own eyes. Even when humans flew in the air, they would not believe in magic. Instead, they built a science around the untapped energy in ordinary sunlight to explain human flight in physical terms. They called her a Super-girl, rather than see the truth.
But a witch knew magic when she saw it. The Sun's love energized His beloved, not the Sun's ultra-violet rays. And the rhythm of the moon set her passion free. This was common knowledge among witches since Kara first arrived on Earth. By mentioning her name in a ritual or contemplating her image in the circle, the witches invoked Kara's passion into their own lives.
Yet the world at large was blind to her erotic powers, even while her sexuality had sweeping effects on their everyday lives. During the goddess' first five years, sex therapists reported a dramatic drop in Sexual Arousal Disorders, attributing the change to "causes unknown". As Supergirl's costume grew slighter and more revealing, popular fashion followed the same direction, yet the public saw Supergirl as riding a fashion wave rather than causing it. A recent survey done by Her Choices magazine ranked Supergirl the "sexiest woman alive" by the widest margin in the history of the survey, prompting some feminists to condemn Supergirl, since she equated a woman's power with her sex appeal. Others hailed her for exactly the same reason.
The world simply didn't get it.
Then a few weeks ago, a "mysterious event" occurred in the vicinity of Metropolis, with smaller effects vibrating world-wide. The country awoke from its sleep in a sweat. Some people reported waking from a nightmare, while others awoke from an orgasm. A few short hours later, the world learned that Supergirl nearly died at the teeth of a vampire. That news dominated the media, and the psychic response was mostly ignored as something in league with UFO sightings, leaving it for the radical magazines to explore. But no one quite understood what had happened.
No one except Zatanna, who immediately made the connection. Sun and the moon. Life and death. The ingredients to magic. And the timing couldn't be better.
She spent the next several nights chanting at the moon, summoning the vampire, with no success. The police in Metropolis eventually reported that the vampire was presumed dead, and like a fool Zatanna believed it.
Then one night, when the moon was full, Zatanna awoke to a dark figure standing over her bed. His skin was heavily tanned from exposure to sunlight, yet the life-giving blood he had taken from the Sun's Beloved had sustained him. Kara's blood was running thin in his veins, and his hunger for her grew day by day. He demanded Zatanna's help.
Zatanna first cowered in fear and suspicion of the power she had summoned. But the vampire, like the goddess, couldn't comprehend his own destiny. He felt the power between himself and Kara, like a nuclear reaction. He felt the need for her flowing through his veins. But he didn't understand their potential. If somehow Zatanna could control the situation, the power and the good she could do would be incalculable.
He was just a silhouette when he entered the room, with the sun blazing in from behind him, partially eclipsed by his body. But when he removed his hood and his cloak, Linda saw his strangely familiar face. Dark hair. Dark hungry eyes. Seeing him sent her emotions into a tailspin, spiraling down and deep. Seeing him made her writhe in fear and made her want to puke. This was a very severe reaction to seeing someone she didn't even know.
Maybe it wasn't him making her feel that way. Maybe she was experiencing withdrawal from the orgasm Zatanna had denied her. She grabbed Zatanna and held tightly to her. "Oh, why did you stop? I was almost..." Linda started, and then her body shook violently. Backing off from an orgasm was harder for Linda than for most people, but it had never been *this* hard before. Something else was bothering her.
"Is she OK?" the man asked Zatanna, concern in his eyes...
Zatanna shrugged, "I don't know. Maybe I brought her down too fast. Maybe I put too much energy in motion to slam on the brakes like that."
"Why were you fucking her in the first place? I thought the plan was to wait," he spat out, his fangs showing.
Linda didn't notice. In fact, she was feeling so bad just then, she barely noticed that they were even talking about her.
"I underestimated her sexual powers," Zatanna replied. "I didn't realize how powerful we had made her. I thought I could handle it, but when she got hot, I just lost it."
"I warned you," the man glared at Zatanna. "You aren't taking this seriously enough."
"Hey, I'm sorry, but she was so hot, *no one* could have resisted her just then. Even her cat looked like he was walking in catnip," Zatanna shot back, laughing. Then her smile fell, and she held Linda close to her. "Now the passion is gone. Funny how her mood changes everything."
The man's eyes softened on Linda, who still felt awful. Her brow was covered with sweat, and she could barely understand a word they were saying. "She looks like she's really suffering," he said to Zatanna. "Linda told me once that she needed some kind of psychic feedback from sex. Maybe you should have removed that charm you gave her and finished her off."
Zatanna shook her head vehemently. "Now, you're the one who's not taking this seriously enough. We have only one chance to do this right. The time is near, and she's at her peak energy. Her body is ready to burn, but we need to get her flame started again."
"Should be a piece of cake for a super-witch like you, right?" he said with not a little skepticism. "You must have brought something along to spark the girl's desire. Aphrodisiacs. Wine. Chocolate."
"No chocolate for me, thank you." Linda spoke up, laughing and wincing at the same time. She was amused by the way they were discussing her emotions, as though her feelings were as malleable as clay. Maybe they were, because just the thought of sickly sweet chocolate made her feel even sicker.
"We can do much better than that," Zatanna said, rolling her eyes at the man's ignorance. She reached onto the table behind her and produced a jar marked 'Damiana'. She took a leaf from the jar and handed it to him. "Try this instead, and put a little of yourself into it."
He glanced at her quizzically. "What do you mean?"
"Do I have to spell it out for you?" Zatanna patted the sheets beside Linda, indicating that he should join the two naked women in the circle. "Feed it to her, and remember, the magic is in you, not in the leaf.Linda watched him nervously, her heart racing with fear, and her belly complaining angrily. Without thinking, she shielded her throat with her fingertips as the man sat on the bed beside her.
His woolen pants rubbed against her hip as he leaned over her, holding the leaf to her lips. When he gazed into her eyes, Linda felt the rage in her body changing. When he touched her cheek with his free hand, she parted her lips. He pushed the leaf into her mouth with his finger and rubbed it against her tongue. "Minty," Linda thought, "and a little bitter."
A shiver pulsed through her body. Her heart raced in excitement, and her belly ached longingly. She took his hand in hers, trapping his finger in her mouth. Her eyes half closed. She felt his free hand sliding down from her cheek to her neck. Her hair fell away from the two scars, which even after a month, glowed blood red when Linda was excited. When he touched her scars, she moaned softly, turning her hips towards him, parting her legs, and offering her pink wet pussy to feed the appetite she saw growing in his eyes.
He was about to accept the invitation when Zatanna shoved him lightly on the shoulder, smiling, "See what I mean? She turns on in a heartbeat, and once you get her going, she's impossible to resist."
He pulled his hand from Linda's mouth and forced himself to look away.
"No!" Linda cried, reaching for him, needing his touch to keep her from falling again. "Don't stop!"
"Yes, don't stop," Zatanna concurred, as she stroked Linda's thighs and hips. "We need to keep her excited, but we mustn't lose control of her or ourselves in the process. We can't let her come for another hour, yet."
"Why not?" Linda objected. She wasn't bothered that they were talking mysteriously about her, or that they were making plans involving her. What bothered her was that those plans did not immediately lead to orgasm. She then bit her lip as the man gently squeezed her breasts. Zatanna stroked inside Linda's thigh and rubbed against her gushing pussy. Just a few minutes ago, she was writhing in agony; now she was squirming in desire. She had never been turned on so quickly before. Was this magic, like they said? She spread her legs, welcoming Zatanna's fingers inside, but Zatanna left her hanging, hovering near the flower like a bee, but never exploring inside. Linda groaned in frustration. "Oh, God, what are you doing to me? Why won't you let me come?"
"Because the time isn't right, yet," the man replied. "Not for me. And not for you, my sweet goddess."
"You think I'm a goddess, too? Some kind of sex-goddess?" Linda asked incredulously. "I'm just a horny super-girl who wants to get laid."
"And that's all you want out of life?" Zatanna asked her, disappointed. "You have all these powers, and so much to offer the world, yet all you want to do is 'get laid'?"
"No," Linda defended herself. "I want to use my powers to help people and make them happy, too ... But I have my own needs."
Zatanna shook her head impatiently. "You don't understand. You think that strength and speed are powers, while passion and sensitivity are needs. Yet they all arise from the same fire inside you. What you are calling needs are actually your greatest powers."
"Well, those great powers have destroyed my life!" Linda cried out. She glanced at the mirror on the ceiling and saw the reflection of herself. The oil on her skin made her whole body appear as wet as her pussy. And the reflection was true; that was how she felt. She felt as though her life was taken over by her pussy. She shut her eyes tight. "What good is this fire you keep talking about? The whole world hates me because of it!"
"That's not true, and you should never be ashamed of the gift you have," the man replied with tenderness in his eyes. He caressed her face. "I was dead before I met you, but you have given me life. That fire doesn't stay inside of you; it touches everyone you share it with."
"Your feelings touch the whole world," Zatanna continued. "Haven't you read any of the newspapers? Haven't you noticed how the crime rate fell during the hours when you were dancing at the strip bar? Did you ever wonder why no one complained, no matter how revealing your costume got? Or that no one, not even gay men, ever argues about how sexy you are? Did you ever wonder why the whole world squealed in delight when you finally took it all off on that football field -- or why everyone has been burning in desire ever since to see more?"
"They've been burning with desire for me?" Linda asked. "I don't know if that's good thing or a bad thing."
"Like any power, it depends on how you use it," Zatanna answered. "Your body has been sending signals to you all along, yet you've been fighting with yourself, against your body and against your destiny. And those negative feelings vibrate through the whole world. Sometimes people feel frustrated, and they don't know why. Sometimes they feel happy, for no good reason. Now they are dimly aware that you play a role in their lives. They may resent it, and they may envy you, but they are all fascinated. You have captured their consciousness. Isn't that what it means to be a goddess? But with all this power comes responsibility. When something feels good, you have a special obligation to enjoy yourself, and share that feeling with those around you."
Linda stared wide-eyed at Zatanna, as if she was crazy, but everything she had said rang true.
Linda looked up again at her reflection. Was that the image of a goddess? Her body glowed from within, and her pussy expressed its pleasure at Zatanna's fingertips. The image told the truth, and was that really worse than the other images she gave to the world? She pretended to be so many things, afraid to show the passion inside her, and never wanting to disappoint her friends. But she had never felt as at home with herself as when she danced at the Kindling Klub, sharing herself openly. The passion was all that mattered, then. The feelings of loving and of being loved, even if it was with a stranger. There were no pretenses and no conditions to that love. Just the pure emotion, with nothing held back and nothing hidden. Was that the image of a goddess?
"Maybe you are right," Linda purred at her naked teacher, starting to see her life in a new light and with a new confidence. While running a finger lightly up Zatanna's thigh, and then pausing to test the waters before dipping in. "Maybe I should enjoy myself and share that feeling with you right now. Won't that be a good thing?"
Zatanna tensed in anticipation, yet urged Linda's finger away.
"It will be a much better thing if we wait an hour," the man replied.
"Why? What happens in an hour?" Linda asked impatiently.
Zatanna and the man looked at each other, surprised she didn't know. It was the second biggest news story, after Supergirl herself.
"What happens in an hour?" Zatanna repeated the question with a look of wonder in her eyes. "Why, something that only happens once in a very long time."
Clark was sitting at his desk, staring at a book called "Legends of the Sun and the Moon."
It was almost the middle of the day, yet the offices of the Daily Planet were mostly empty. Many reporters were scouring about looking for more dirt to print on Supergirl. Others were preparing for the solar eclipse that would begin in less than an hour, and which was generating more public interest than expected.
Eclipses, especially total solar eclipses, where the moon blocks the light of the sun, were extremely rare. Most people never see more than one in their lifetime. And the climax, when the eclipse reaches totality, lasts only five minutes. That made it a very special astronomical event.
And that was also where the media dropped the ball -- by assuming that the phenomenon's appeal was related to science. They underestimated society's superstitious nature. Solar eclipses played major roles in almost every religion. Many faiths prophesied that an eclipse near the millennium would mark the end of the world. Even the darkness that swept the land when Jesus died was presumed to be a solar eclipse. Eclipses always seemed to accompany amazing events. Often amazing and terrible events.
Clark closed the book and rubbed his eyes. Although the subject matter was fascinating, his mind was elsewhere. He had real problems to deal with. His eyes were tired from lack of sleep, as he waited for a call from Andrew or from *anyone,* telling him where Linda was. Telling him that Linda was alright.
She had caused him a world of grief, but he couldn't turn his back on her now. He had felt responsible for her since the day she had first arrived on Earth as a refugee and as an orphan from a dead planet. He had never met anyone who felt so lost and alone. Clark did everything he could to help her and to guide her way, but life had dealt her a particularly cruel hand. She was always struggling just to find some meaning and purpose for her existence, and if she created a little havoc here and there while she searched, Clark couldn't blame her for that.
And of course, he couldn't blame her for the things *he* did to cause havoc. The disaster at the Kindling Klub was as much his fault as hers. He needed to tell her that. He needed to tell her a lot of things.
Across the office, at the main desk, a phone rang. Clark transferred the call to his desk, since the clerk who usually answered the phone was away.
"Daily Planet," Clark greeted.
A woman's voice spoke through static on the other end. Clark picked up on her New England accent. "A major story is about to break in old Salem," the voice spoke quickly, as if by rote. "Send a crew with a camera."
Clark replied casually. "We don't respond to crank calls. What is this story about, anyway?The voice said something quickly that Clark couldn't understand. The words didn't even sound like English. Then she said, "Let's just say it involves both of today's headlines. This is a message from the Witches of Salem to the world."
Then the line went dead.
Clark didn't know what to think, but somehow he knew the call was for real. He looked at today's Daily Planet neatly folded on his desk, and on the first page was a picture of Supergirl.
Clark touched his brow and shook his head. "Oh, dear Linda, what are you getting into now..."
"Tell me your most secret fantasy," the man demanded, while torturing Linda with his fingertips, keeping her on the edge. "Tell me what is still taboo and terrifying and virgin. Tell me what you don't want anyone, anywhere to know."
Linda shook her head, as if fighting the torture. How could he even ask a question like that? But she wanted to tell him. There was something in his eyes and his touch. Something familiar. Something ravenous. "You promise not to tell anyone?"
"I won't tell a soul," he replied, then he sucked on her nipple, grazing it with his teeth.
Linda closed her eyes and pulled him in tight. She was too excited to feel fear or caution. "I want to be fucked up the ass," she said with a wicked smile.
"Oh, you little minx!" he teased, rubbing her asshole with his fingertip. Linda moaned, while trying to explain. "No one's ever fucked me up the ass before, because, well, it's so tight. But it feels so empty, too. Nothing ever goes in, and nothing ever comes out."
"Nothing?"
"There are some private things about my powers I don't like to talk about," Linda replied evasively, trying to think of a gentle way to put it. "My body doesn't make any waste."
"Oh, no shit?" He replied, startled.
Linda shrugged, thinking she just weirded him out.
But she had only made him curious. He climbed between her legs for a better look at this tiny wonder, but with the feast laid out before him, he could barely decide what to taste first. When in doubt, go for the desert, which was melting all over the main course. He licked off the excess. "Mmm, tastes just like peach pie, and your nipples are like strawberries. You smell like . . . I don't know. Damn good! Is there anything about your body that isn't perfect?"
Linda licked her lips in anticipation. "You tell me."
"Tell her later," Zatanna said at the door. She had left them alone for just a few minutes, while she made phone calls. She dropped the cellular on the table, and sat beside Linda on the bed. "I knew I couldn't trust the two of you together, especially at a time like this."
"Oh, please, let him finish me!" Linda cried. They had been torturing her with their restraint for what seemed like an eternity, and she didn't think she could take it much longer.
"Just hold on a few minutes longer," Zatanna replied, while fondling Linda's breasts and thighs, keeping Linda's sexual energy high. Zatanna was wearing her clothes again, but to very little effect. Her blouse clung to her sweaty body, and her wet pussy glowed behind the fishnets. "Everything is in place. It's almost time."
Zatanna stared at Linda with an almost crazed look in her eyes. Zatanna's excitement was more than sexual. She was about to get her five minutes of fame.
Linda's fame would last much longer. She didn't understand it all, but she knew that much. She bit her lip and closed her eyes, and she thought about what Zatanna had told her. Linda wished she had more time to decide. She usually regretted decisions made in the heat of passion, but as Zatanna had said, these eclipses occur only once in a very long time.
"What happens next?" Linda asked, needing reassurance.
Zatanna closed her eyes and orated, mostly reinforcing what she had said before. "Your body vibrates with the power of the Sun and the passion of the Moon. When those two forces combine, vibrating together, Sun into the Moon, all of that passion and power that has been building up inside you will be set free. Your consciousness will bind the consciousness of the world. Your passion will ignite the passion in us all. Your image will fill our minds. And your sacrifice will make that bond eternal."
"My image? What sacrifice?" Linda asked, when suddenly she gasped. Her body squirmed involuntarily, as though consumed by a fever, and she felt a dull, throbbing need in the void of her belly. "What's happening?"
"The Sun and the Moon are touching. It is time to begin."
Zatanna took her Book Of Shadows from the table, then walked toward the curtain to leave the room. The man donned his cloak and hood, and he followed her.
"Why are you putting those clothes on? Where are you going?" Linda complained. "Oh, please! Don't leave me alone! Not now!"
"I would never dream of leaving you alone," Zatanna said, and then she yelled out the door, "OK, take them away!"
Linda sat up quickly, as sunlight poured into the room, and the walls began to move. If Linda had looked closely at the walls, she would have seen the mirrors were on wheels. In fact, the room wasn't a room at all. It was more like a stall used in a market, or something fortune tellers might use in at a carnival. Within seconds, two large men, each wearing witchcraft symbols, pushed the walls and the ceiling away, and Linda found herself lying naked on the black circle in the middle of Salem Common. Just a few feet behind her were the steps to the pagoda, where she met Zatanna last night. Everywhere else she looked were cameras and hungry eyes.
For a moment, the crowd was silent. No one had expected this. The witches merely said that Supergirl would make an appearance, and the reporters thought she would just read a prepared statement, expressing her regret over the way she had behaved in recent weeks. That would have been news all by itself, since Supergirl hadn't been seen or heard from in weeks.
But they wondered about that mysterious black stall, just sitting there in the empty park. Only the witches seemed to know anything about it, and they weren't talking. Nor were they letting anyone get close. Until finally the word was given, and the box opened up, revealing the glistening body of well-oiled Supergirl inside, gleaming like a diamond on a bed of black. An offering to the world.
The police argued with each other, unsure if they should do anything, as the blonde bombshell explosively disturbed the peace.
The reporters were much better prepared.
"Get in closer!" yelled one, determined to get the best photos.
"I don't care about the fucking eclipse!" yelled another, "Just feed me in live!"
Antennae pointed at the sky, where the Sun was connecting with the Moon, and satellites were connecting Salem with the rest of the world.
Clark, dressed as Superman, had just arrived at the scene, and he watched in stunned disbelief. He didn't know what to think or how to feel. What was going on? Linda had felt so ashamed and apologetic the last time he saw her, yet here she was, redefining the term exhibitionist, relishing in fame or notoriety, whatever may be . He wondered how could it get any worse. But with Linda, anything was possible. He had to save her from herself.
He marched towards the circle, pushing reporters out of his way, where he was met by Zatanna. "Superman! What are you doing?" she asked him urgently.
"I'm gonna put a stop to this," he said, never slowing his pace as he answered her.
But Zatanna forced herself in front of him, catching his attention for just an instant, which was all she needed. "Tiaw thgir ereh! Soon she will understand. The Sun's Beloved must decide her own destiny."
Superman stopped in his tracks and considered. He didn't have a right to interfere. Maybe Linda would even be upset with him if he tried. Maybe she really wanted this. His shoulders slumped. He felt confused. He felt powerless.
When the witches pushed the mirrored walls away, they knocked over the table beside the circular bed. It fell over with a loud crash. Then, for a brief moment, complete silence.
Linda sank into the sheets, as the crowd came to life and charged towards her. Bulbs flashed. Cameras were rolling. One man was leaning a television camera out from within the pagoda, almost directly over her. Others stood just a few feet away, immortalizing the moment. No more teasing. No more skirt flirting. She didn't even have to perform to feed their desire. She just had to be who she was. A contradiction. A jewel that burns from the inside. A mystery that grows when revealed. A shy woman who would capture the attentions of the world.
Many of the witches in the crowd were celebrating. Some were tearing off their own clothes. Some were kneeling on the ground, as if praying. Praying to their goddess.
And Linda, who should have been afraid or at least self-conscious, had no more patience for shame. She closed her eyes and took it all in. Her body was on fire. She could feel the passion growing, both their passion and hers, and she wanted to join with them, just as Zatanna had promised. She wanted to bind their consciousness. She wanted to fill their fantasies with images of her. Her body glowed, not just from the sunlight and the oil, but from a force inside her, leaving her weak, while energizing those around her.
Zatanna stood before the crowd, holding a microphone in her hand like a magic wand. "Ta arak ezag dna rednow," she said, her voice carrying over the loudspeakers and over the airwaves. "Behold! The body of the goddess! Feast with your eyes! Drink with your hearts!"
As the crowd ventured closer, Linda spread her legs, welcoming them. She arched her back, so that her breasts perked up into the sunlight. She threw her head to one side, exposing her neck, while she gripped the sheets with her hands.As a stripper, she always sensed when the audience was excited, and that sense was never stronger than it was right now. She knew their eyes were glued to her fingertips as they slid down her belly, towards her pussy. She felt her audience urging her fingers on.
Until she wasn't sure who was controlling her hand anymore.
"Give us a look inside, Supergirl," asked one of a dozen photographers.
Linda nodded breathlessly and moaned. She held her pussy open between trembling fingertips. Her hips bucked, but she was not even near a plateau, yet. Something was keeping her from coming.
"Finger-fuck that cunt!" said another breathlessly. "Yes, that's it!"
Then someone else touched her, very lightly, on the knee.
Linda squirmed and twisted, like a fish burning on the beach. She was so hot, she could barely see. "Take me," Linda pleaded.
"What?"
"Eat me!" Linda cried desperately. "Please, take my body!"
And they hesitated, not for lack of desire, but they simply weren't ready to partake of the goddess. The world was watching. Their bosses, coworkers, maybe even spouses would be watching, too.
And everyone watching TV sets around the world were wishing they were in Salem and had the same opportunity. All the rules were thrown out the window at this moment. Later they would wonder if the decision was even theirs to make.
Finally, someone answered Linda's call. Linda didn't see who it was. She didn't even look. She just felt the stranger's tongue fill the void between her legs, drinking Linda's sweet wine, and setting the celebration in motion. Linda pulled his face in tight and rejoiced at the ministrations of the well-trained tongue, which drank deeply from her chalice.
But the wine only whetted his appetite. "Oh, yes!" Linda cried, as he attacked her pussy with his whole mouth, licking, sucking, even biting, while squeezing her ass. Her legs fell weakly on his shoulders as he ate her out. She felt like a sandwich in the hands of a starving laborer.
Linda's fingers drifted up to her breasts, as the rest of her body demanded stimulation. Then her hands were torn away, as others in the crowd demanded a taste of her as well. Suddenly, she felt lips and tongues pleasing each of her breasts. Long tresses of a woman's hair tickled her belly. Kisses on her arms and hands, sucking on her fingers. Teeth biting into her thighs. Linda gazed up at the fading sun. The crowd was devouring her as if Linda would be their last supper.
Yet still, somehow, she felt no release. The fire just kept growing and growing...
Two big hands grabbed her head and pulled her face over the edge of the bed. Her body was contorted, yanked this way and that, but all pain seemed like pleasure to her then. She didn't see the dick until it slammed into her mouth. She started to gag before it slammed in again. She wanted to slow him down, but she couldn't remove her hands from the grasp of her other lovers. She could barely even breathe, as he pumped her throat with bone-like flesh, until he erupted, invading her with the taste of him. His rough grasp turned gentle, and now he held her head carefully, as she sucked the fire out of him.
Linda sucked hard, as if she could suck his release into herself. Her eyes glazed, and her anxiety was unbearable, as the crowd worked her into a frenzy, yet she still couldn't come.
Then, as if someone was pulling a giant curtain overhead, the blue sky faded to black, and day faded quickly to night. The edge of the Sun formed a crescent of flickering, brilliant beads, before totality. Now, the Sun was just a stunning, fiery halo of white and red around the dominating Moon. The heavens were an awe-inspiring mix of light and darkness.
Linda's lovers stood back in awe, as a chill filled the air. The witches stopped their erotic celebrations. The insane festivity faded to a solemn silence.
Calvin leapt onto the bed beside his master. He scratched at the sheets, and then raised a clawed paw at the sky, caterwauling at the spectacle.
Linda twisted on her bed quietly, feeling the energy change around her, as a dark figure appeared from out of her peripheral vision and climbed up onto the circle with her, kneeling between her wide-spread legs.
His hooded head eclipsed the eclipse. He threw off his cloak, and all Linda could see was the silhouette of his naked body. His hood fell onto the sheets, though his face was still hidden in the darkness. Linda didn't recognize his shadowy face as the same man who had teased her and played with her emotions for nearly an hour. For the first time, she recognized him for who he was.
He was Jim. The vampire. The man she had nearly fallen in love with a month ago, during the last new moon. The vampire who had nearly killed her that same night. Adrenaline rushed through her body. Her mind was in a daze. A mix of overwhelming desire and unspeakable fear.
Calvin hissed, then streaked away in fright.
Linda tried to follow Calvin's example. She rolled out from under Jim. She fell off the bed, landing on her hands and knees on the paved walkway.
Jim reached for her, but she stumbled forward, half crawling, half running, to the steps of the pagoda. She climbed the steps, making it nearly to the top, when two hands clamped onto her hips.
She stopped fleeing, paralyzed by indecision.
The hands loosened their grip, and lightly stroked her back and her sides, calming her fear, reminding her of his gentle side.
Leaving only Linda's desire to subdue.
Jim's hands caressed her ass, until Linda parted her legs slightly. He rubbed his fingers into her pussy, until Linda moaned, and her juices flowed freely. Then he spread her juices up the crack of her ass, lubricating her virgin anus.
Linda tensed with fear and anticipation. She rested her head on the cement floor of the pagoda, and straightened her legs on the steps, thus propping her ass high in the air, and flaring her buttocks. Jim pushed a lubricated finger into her asshole, and twisted around inside her, softening her entry point. Linda squirmed in pleasure, but she needed more stimulation. She maneuvered her arm under her body, and her hand between her legs, and fingered her dripping clit, while she looked back at the crowd.
She could barely see them in the odd lighting, but they were gathering closer, eager to watch their sex goddess take it up the ass. Flashes from cameras pierced the darkness. When Linda squinted, she could barely make out several of the naked witches, bent over as she was, with men, maybe photographers, positioned behind them. She smiled bemusedly, and thought they were like an aerobics class following their leader.
But there was one man, standing alone who wasn't participating in the festivities. He looked like a statue in the dim light. Linda tried to see him more clearly.
When suddenly, her mouth and eyes opened wide in horror and pain and wonder, as Jim's dick bored into her tiny, sensitive, unready anus. He penetrated barely an inch or two, but the pain was excruciating. Linda moaned like a dying animal. Tears poured from her eyes. She had never thought it would be this painful. Yet she did not struggle to get away.
Jim withdrew his dick for a moment. He slid into her pussy for more lubrication, and then he thrust deeper into her anus.
Linda felt like she was being ripped apart inside. Her wails were met by wails from her disciples in the crowd, whose asses were likewise crucified, as they followed her example.
Again, Linda glimpsed the solitary man, who seemed like he wanted to do something. Maybe he wanted to go to her. But he kept still.
Then Linda saw nothing at all, as Jim brutally pushed her face into the cement, and his full length invaded her backside. She couldn't even scream this time. She couldn't even clench her teeth against the pain. Her energy was completely drained, having fed Jim's passion, and having fed the passions of the whole world, leaving her empty.
The pain shot up through her belly, and then eased as Jim pulled out. He plunged again. Linda moaned weakly in anguish. He plunged again.
This time it wasn't quite as bad. Her ass was loosening. Or Linda was just getting used to it.
Linda's fingers shook as they touched her clit. She felt dizzy. She looked back over the park. Her vision was spinning. With that one man anchored firmly in the middle.
Now the pain in her ass was a dull, throbbing ache, and she realized the pain had turned. It wasn't exactly pain anymore. It was evolving, growing into something else. Whatever it was, it was building momentum.
A momentum borne of pain and fear and humiliation. Evolving into pleasure and desire and exaltation!
Jim pounded faster into her more receptive ass, filling her with his potency, replacing her lost energy with something new. Linda's fingers rubbed at her clit urgently. She felt like her soul was being ripped from her body, like her soul was expanding, touching everything and everyone around her.
She opened her eyes, and all she saw was that solitary man, looking up at her, thinking about her. Yes, somehow she knew what he was thinking. It was like she could hear his thoughts, like a deep voice rising above the sound of her heart beat and the roar of sex. He was asking her something. "When did you have your last period?"
Linda blinked. What a strange question to ask at a time like this.
She shut her eyes and lifted her head in expectation. She was very near now. The torture in her ass was sweet. The cement scratching her breasts and knees felt wonderful. Her eyes flooded with joyous tears.
Jim reached around Linda's throat, as he drove deep inside her one last time. He grabbed the magic necklace Zatanna had given Linda and, with a quick yank, he tore it away.
Setting Linda free!She felt like the ocean crashing against a rocky shore, with bits and pieces of her spraying into the air. She sang in screams with abandon. Her soul exploded like a supernova, enveloping the whole world, sharing her joy with all creation. For the first time, she felt as though her life had meaning. If she died right then, she would have died fulfilled, with no regrets.
And then she understood her fate. She understood the sacrifice Zatanna had spoken of. She was meant to die here and now. Somehow dying would make a difference. Somehow dying would satisfy the abyss and make her immortal.
The eclipse was finally breaking, after what seemed like hours. The sun peeked out from behind the moon, and Linda opened her eyes.
There was the solitary man again, though now Linda could see the cape flowing behind his back. Clark? She could feel his love for her, different from the love that the crowd was feeling. And that made her sad. "Have you been feeling nauseated lately?" he queried.
Linda blinked. Again with the strange questions.
Jim pulled out of Linda and rolled her body over on the pagoda's floor, so that she was facing him. Wisps of smoke burned his skin, as the sun's light exploded from behind the moon, striking his back. The time was now. He brushed the hair away from her throat. He gazed into Linda's peaceful eyes. He showed his fangs.
Linda felt calm. She felt ready. But something gnawed at her. Something was missing. Something was incomplete.
Something about that solitary man's feelings. Something about his questions.
And then, as the sun exploded the darkness, the truth dawned on her.
She was pregnant.
It didn't make sense. How could she know that? How could she be pregnant? It didn't make sense, but it made all the difference. The knowledge woke her from whatever dream or spell she was under.
She turned her head, as Jim lunged for her throat. His teeth grazed her shoulder instead, barely scratching her, but giving him a taste of her blood. His skin was burning with a different kind of passion, and the bloodlust in his eyes sent a chill through Linda, returning her fear of death. She covered her throat with her hands, as he attacked again. He bit into her fingers, desperately needing just a few drops of her Kryptonian blood, before the renewing sunlight consumed him.
Linda thrashed about, avoiding his attack. "Get off me!" she yelled, but without her powers -- without even an ordinary woman's strength -- she could never win this fight.
Not without help, anyway.
Suddenly, a hand grabbed Jim by the hair and yanked him back like he was a puppet on a string. Jim tumbled down the steps of the pagoda out of view, leaving a trail of sulfur and a puff of smoke in his wake.
Linda didn't open her eyes right away. She kept her hands over her throat, as she waited for him to resume his attack. She had prepared herself for death. She needed a few moments to prepare herself for life again. Finally, she opened her eyes.
Now, a super-man had taken the vampire's place, kneeling between Linda's legs. The warmth of the sun was in his eyes. His only thought was for her well-being. He sighed. "Oh, jeez, Linda, I can't believe..."
Linda started to cry.
"Shhh," Clark whispered, as he touched her face. The blood on her neck and her hair and her arms alarmed him, but she wasn't badly injured. Just a few scratches. Her struggles made the injuries appear worse than they were, and she would heal quickly when she got her powers back. "You're gonna be OK."
"It's not that," Linda shook her head, smiling through the tears. "I'm just... overwhelmed! Look at me! Look at what I did! I don't know what came over me. I don't know what it all means."
Clark looked around the park. Couples were lying naked and in a daze. A minister was kneeling near a tree, praying. Photographers continued to snap pictures with their pants down around their knees. "A lot of people are sharing your feelings right now."
"I don't understand it at all," Linda continued, trying to focus her thoughts. "But somehow it felt right. I never felt so alive! And the worst part is that I *liked* it! Oh, please forgive me, but I *loved* every minute of it!... I'm so scared!"
"Are you insane?" Clark looked away, not believing his ears. "Jeez, Linda, you almost got yourself killed again! Is that what you wanted?"
"Is it true?" Linda asked, collecting herself, thinking the one thought that held her together and tamed her fears and passions and shames.
"Is what true?"
"That I'm pregnant."
"How did...?" Clark started, baffled, but this wasn't the first time Linda had read his thoughts. "I really don't know. Maybe. The hospital did all sorts of tests with that blood from your visits. They seem to think you are pregnant, but they can't be sure, since your hormones were all over the map. They didn't need blood tests to know that."
Linda's face was unreadable.
"How do you feel about having a baby?" Clark asked kindly, anxiously. He took one of her hands in his and held it gently, firmly.
"Do you mean it?" Linda asked mysteriously with a glow in her eyes, a glint of recognition and hope.
"What?!" Clark asked in frustration.
"That... you love me," she said, now doubting her intuition.
"Jeez, Linda," Clark objected, rolling his eyes. His hands were shaking, as he brushed the blood-stained hairs from her cheek. "Come on, now. I never even thought those words. How can you even ask me that?"
"I'm sorry," Linda looked away, stung by his reply. "I don't know what I was thinking. I know it's stupid. How could someone as warm and kind as you love a... whore like me? I don't deserve..."
Then, suddenly, Linda felt her body lifted from the ground, and Clark kissed her hard on the mouth. She didn't react instantly. It wasn't an earth-shattering kiss. It didn't even get her juices going. But God did it feel nice! She put her arms around him and returned his kiss.
Superman looked up, just as cameras started flashing around them. The reporters were already looking for a new angle on the story of the century.
He scooped Linda in his arms, stepped outside the pagoda, and leaped up into the sky.
Linda kept looking at his face, as they flew, wondering what he was feeling. "Tell me," she said, teasing his hard body with her fingertips. His muscles were like steel cables. "Why were you just standing there watching me make love to the world? Why didn't you stop it? Why didn't you join in?"
He didn't say a word. But he didn't have to. She knew.
She whispered in his ear. "Do you ever dream of making love to a goddess?"
Clark's face turned red. He shook his head and smiled. "Jeez, Linda, get over yourself."
Calvin meowed after his master, as the super-couple took to the sky.
"Poor kitty," Zatanna said, lifting him into her arms. "Looks like she's left something behind."
Zatanna sighed. Things didn't quite go the way she had planned. The Sun's Beloved did not live up to her part of the bargain. She gave the world a taste of paradise, and then snatched it away. But wasn't that taste glorious?
And how could the goddess ever forget that taste of pure joy. What earthly pleasures could ever compare to it? Maybe she'll get another chance at paradise next year, at the eclipse in Europe.
"Don't worry, kitty, she'll be back." | null | null | Authors/tooshoes/Supergirl_Series/SG7_Somewhere_On_The_Circle_of_Life.txt |
109,129 | Albion | Sarah Burden: Quickie | You come out of the place you work already looking a little flushed. You received my text message two hours ago, telling you what I had arranged this lunchtime. As it happened, the message interrupted you in a meeting: your colleagues must have wondered why you had suddenly become flushed when you read it.
'pick u up for treat @1' the message said, and you had two hours to dwell on what it would be this time. But then, I like to keep you waiting. On the edge, as it were.
As always, you look very professional in your smart dark blue business skirt suit and white blouse. You work in an office and always have to make the right impression. I notice as you hurry to the car that you have modest heels on: not as high as I prefer when I am using you, but a couple of inches to enhance your legs' great shape.
You hesitate fractionally as you open the car door, but climb in anyway. You have seen the small rubber mat on the seat -- a grey bath mat with small rubber dimples. I like to put this on the seat so when you sit, you feel the dimples through your skirt and have to endure a fairly uncomfortable journey. I also notice you wince slightly as you settle into the seat, and not just because of the dimples pressing up. I had a small boy cane you last night during sex, and I imagine your rear is still a little sore.
I greet you with a kiss and tell you that I love you. You whisper back that you love me as we set off, wanting to know where we are going.
"You'll see," I tell you, and I start to give you your instructions. First, to both increase the discomfort in your backside and humiliate you, I tell you must ease yourself up, lift your skirt round your waist, and slip your knickers off. As it is summer, you aren't wearing tights or stockings: not something I approve of, as I see no reason why you shouldn't be uncomfortable in tights or (better still from my point of view) stockings and suspenders on a hot day, but the day isn't hot enough for such a discomfort.
You do as you're told and settle back on the cold rubber mat, giving a little gasp as you do so. "Now," I say. "Ball your panties up and wedge them in your mouth."
You do this without thinking: I often require you to wear panties in your mouth even when we are doing something everyday like going to the cinema, watching TV, or just strolling in some quiet place. I like the puffed cheek look, you understand.
"In the glove compartment, there is a pair of cuffs and a piece of clear tape," I tell you. You find them and smooth the tape over your mouth as instructed, and then, using the vanity mirror, apply lipstick over the top where your lips are. Anyone looking at you (unless they were very close) wouldn't see the tape. Just a woman with bright red lips and slightly swollen cheeks.
"Good," I say when you have finished, and I pull the car over. "Now you're gagged, cuff your hands behind yourself."
You do as you are told, clicking the cold metal round your wrists behind you. It is more uncomfortable for you to sit, hands locked behind you, on the rubber mat, and I fasten your seat belt for you -- giving it an extra tug to make sure you are held firmly to the seat and the strap across your chest divides your bust nicely. I reach up and toy with your nipples through your stretched blouse, to make them stand out a little.
Satisfied you are both uncomfortable and aroused, I resume driving while you sit in frustrated silence.
Before long, we arrive at a small park. Although it is lunchtime, there are only a few people about: some mothers with prams, young children running around the slides and swings. I help you out of the car, tugging your skirt down for you, and steer you towards some bushes away from where the mums are sat.
There is an eleven-year-old boy standing among the bushes, looking anxious and intrigued. "This is the woman, Harry," I tell him. "You can fuck her as I promised."
The boy stares at you, astonished at the fact you are gagged and cuffed, but equally aroused that I had really delivered as I said I would. Ah, kids -- they should have more faith. After all, I paid him ten quid to be there.
Harry is aroused enough to have a pre-teen erection, swelling out at the front of his shorts. He even gulps when I pull your skirt up and show him your shaved pussy, a hint of moisture on your nether lips.
We haven't got much time, so I turn you round, bend you over, and invite the boy to "get on with fucking her." Harry, to his credit, has his small, pencil-thin cock out of his shorts in a second, and I hear you moan in frustration at not being able to see it -- or suck it for that matter.
"She's been whipped," says Harry in awe.
"Caned," I correct him. "A boy last night did it to her, after he screwed her."
"Cool," he grins. Without prompting, he seizes your cuffed wrists to give himself purchase, and slips his stiff cock into your wet snatch like a homing missile. There is a faint slurp as it goes in, and you give a muffled shriek at his first hump.
Immature boys fucking you always excites you more than anything: you will endure any amount of pain and humiliation to feel a small, rigid cock in you.
One of the joys of watching a small boy fuck you like this, when you have a sore bum, is that as he slams into you from the back, you suffer. Filled with boyish enthusiasm -- no, let's call it lust -- it causes you pain on your still bruised bottom when his slim hips hammer against you. I crouch by your face and see the look of delight and pain and desperation in your eyes: it hurts, it's an incredible pleasure, and you desperately want more.
But this is a quickie, and you have to endure in silence. Or should do: I hear you moaning a "please," and imagine you are trying to beg for the gag to come out and you to take him in your mouth before he chooses a hole to fill.
Quickies aren't like that, and it pleases me that you are both aroused and suffering. I take your hair in one hand, lift your head, and with my free hand gently stroke your face, whispering that the boy looks so happy to be fucking you.
"Can I cum in her, mister?" Harry asks, grunting as he bangs you. There is no other word for it.
"Can he cum in you, darling?" I ask, and you nod eagerly, whimpering into your gag.
"Fire away," I grin at the boy, and he must have let fly immediately because both you and he groan as one the instant the words leave my lips.
I would like the boy to do more to you, but it is lunchtime and we have to be quick. And yet, the temptation is strong; I tell the boy to smack your sore bum with the flat of his hand. You yelp into your gag even though he is unnaturally cautious. I say if he can smack harder (and make you cry) I will give him another ten pounds -- or rather you will, from your purse.
Harry grins and does indeed smack harder. In a minute, you are howling into your gag as the boy warms to his task. I have to stop him as he is in danger of getting carried away. I give him ten pounds and send him on his way, telling you that you will give me the money from your purse back in the car. You stand and nod, tears dripping off your nose.
I am about to straighten your skirt and lead you back to the car when a woman pushes her way through the bushes: by the look of her, she is one of the young mothers from near the swings. "I was going home when I heard all that noise from these bushes," she says, eyeing you with your skirt bunched up round your waist. "And I saw that boy come out of here," she adds.
"This is Sarah," I say to the woman as I indicate you. "She likes to be fucked by boys," I say as if that should explain it all.
The woman laughs as she looks at your face. "Likes to be gagged too. Tell me, does she do tricks?"
"She does a lot of things," I say.
"Good," grins the young woman, "then she can lick me out." Without waiting for any agreement, she hoists up her skirt, drags down her knickers, turns and bends over. Her somewhat fat bum -- pale and spotty -- is on offer. Between her legs, we can see her hairy snatch.
"Of course," I say as I rip your tape gag off and pull the sodden ball of panties from your mouth, before I push you to your knees and press your face up to the woman's rear. "But we have to be quick: she's due back at work soon."
"Then she better get licking fast," smirks the woman over her shoulder.
I hear a faint moan from you as I press your face deep into the woman's sex. The young woman catches her breath as your tongue finds her slit and clit. I hear slurping noises as you work away with your tongue and mouth, and the young woman is soon gasping.
I flip my hard cock out and step in front of the woman, who has no objection to taking my stiffie in her mouth. She isn't very good at oral sex -- nowhere near as good as you -- but I don't care. This woman will drink my cum, and just as she comes, so do I.
"Nice," says the woman as she straightens and sorts her panties and skirt out. "Tell me, do you bring this one here often to do this kind of thing?" She nods at you as if you are there solely for people's pleasure.
"Sometimes," I say as I put my cock away. You are still kneeling, your makeup smeared and looking flushed. There is the woman's cream on your face, and she and I both laugh at how you look.
"Good," the woman smiles, turning back to me. "I have a little brother. Eleven... he's ready for sex because he keeps trying to look up my skirt if he isn't squinting down my top." The young woman brushes her hair from her face. "He'll love playing with her... what's her name, Sadie?"
When I tell her you are Sarah and not Sadie, she nods."Guess I had better get back to my kids... a friend's looking after them. I could, of course, come back here tomorrow if you think this Sarah is up for another bit of pussy-work tomorrow. I could be here."
"I think she would like your kid brother at her rear while she licks you," I say.
The young woman grins. "I'll see what I can do," she says and leaves the bushes.
On the way back to work, you are trying not to wriggle on the rubber dimple seat, but your still-wet panties are uncomfortable to wear.
I ask you if you enjoyed your lunch break, and you smile at me. Although I had allowed you to repair your makeup, your hands are re-cuffed behind you for the drive. "Yes, it was wonderful," you say.
I know you are desperate to bring yourself off (the boy's eager though inexperienced fucking wasn't enough on its own to allow you time to climax), which is why I have secured your hands again behind you. I have also told you to keep your legs apart, and to make sure you do, I placed a ballpoint pen between your thighs so you must keep them apart and not allow the pen to fall. As we bounce over a few speed bumps leaving the park, the pen dug into your thighs. I expect you are glad you are not wearing stockings or tights, as they would certainly be laddered.
We both know that you won't be able to frig yourself to an orgasm until you get back into the office, either behind your desk or make a dash for the toilet. It's good to keep you waiting for satisfaction, I remind you.
Outside your office, I release you from the cuffs, allowing you to pull your skirt back down. You go into your purse to get the £10 I had given the boy, and I tell you that you seem to have forgotten the original tenner I gave the kid. You hand twenty pounds over, lean across, and give me a small kiss and whisper "Thanks."
"Same time tomorrow?" I ask, and you smile as you get out of the car.
Same time tomorrow it is. | null | null | Authors/Burden/Sarah Quickie.txt |
109,612 | Daddy_Little_Slut-Muffin | Sweet, Sweet Amy | You have to remember that I was all of ten years old when this occurred. I had no idea at all of the subtleties that are involved in attempting to seduce a man, in particular an adult man with whom I also shared a parent/child relationship. As I think back today, I see how very silly I must have seemed. Such a little girl, trying desperately to act like a grown-up, sexy woman. Today I can smile about it, but back then it seemed to me to be the single most embarrassing moment that I would ever experience.
Daddy was wonderful, though. My embarrassment was short-lived, because after I had rushed from his office with my clothes in my arms and hidden myself away in my bedroom, he came to me to talk. He confessed to me that he really did have the same feelings about me that I had for him, but that it was an impossible situation as long as I was still so young. All that I could hear though, was that Daddy thought of me like a woman, like a sexy woman who excited him in the way that he excited me. I was thrilled beyond belief, and I told him that nothing mattered except knowing that he felt the same about me.
After we talked, and decided to watch a movie together, Daddy left my bedroom. As I began to undress, preparing to put my pajamas on, I suddenly stopped. I stood there, gazing at myself in the mirror, wearing only my skimpy thong panties. Daddy had told me that he felt the same about me. When he did, he sounded so ashamed of himself, so guilty. He thought that it was wrong for him to feel that way. I was confused. Why should it be wrong? If he loved me, and it was something that I wanted, what was so terrible about it? It wasn't like he forced me to do or feel anything. It bothered me that he felt ashamed of himself for feeling the way that he did about me.
Rather than putting my pajamas on, I decided to just take everything off, and go downstairs with my bathrobe on. I would keep it closed up tightly at first, but eventually, I'd make sure that Daddy noticed I was naked underneath it. I wasn't going to try to get him to do anything; I just wanted him to see that I was naked underneath, and that I was comfortable being like that with him. Well, okay, I also wanted him to enjoy seeing that I had nothing else on but my robe, and I wanted him to get turned on by it.
I pulled my robe on, and tied it tightly around my waist. I skipped downstairs to find that Daddy was already wearing his pajamas, putting chips in a big bowl and fixing drinks for us. I saw that Daddy had his whiskey on the counter, and he was making himself a drink with it. I asked him if I could have a drink like his, and he immediately told me that I couldn't. Normally, I wouldn't have pressed the point, but tonight, I thought that I had a little advantage over him, so I kept asking.
"Please, Daddy? Just a little bit, please?" I begged. I had my hands on his arm, staring up at him, pleading with my eyes as well as my words.
"Amy, no," said Daddy. "You are far too young to be drinking alcohol."
"Daddy, just one, please? I just want to try it. Please?" I still held his arm, and now I leaned against him, looking up at him, smiling my best little smile to try and convince him to allow me this one little concession.
He tried to look stern with me, but I could see he was trying not to smile.
"Alright," he sighed, "but just one, and a very weak one. You really can be a devious little thing, you know. Get me a glass. A tall glass."
I darted to the cupboard and got a tall glass, bringing it back to Daddy. He filled it with ice, and then poured just a tiny bit of whiskey into the glass, filling it the rest of the way with soda. I eagerly sipped it, then looked at him questioningly.
"It just tastes like soda, Daddy!" I gave him a pout.
Reluctantly, he took my glass from me and poured a little more whiskey into it. I sniffed the glass when he handed it back to me, smelling the alcohol fumes. I sipped it again, and grinned. It was far from being a strong drink, but I could detect the taste of the whiskey. It made me feel quite grown up to be enjoying an adult drink with Daddy. I didn't particularly like it, but it wasn't bad. I smiled up at him.
"Mmm, yummy! Thank you, Daddy!"
I watched him making his own drink. "Hey! No fair," I said. "Why do you get so much more in yours?"
"Because I'm bigger, and because I'm used to drinking this stuff. If you drank this much you'd pass out, and wake up in the morning with a terrible hangover."
"What's a hangover?" I asked him.
He laughed. "Trust me, Princess, you don't want to know."
Daddy and I went into the living room with our snacks and drinks. Daddy asked me if I knew what movie I wanted to watch, and I nodded.
"I want to watch Dirty Dancing again, Daddy," I said.
With a pained look, he muttered, "Great. Another chick flick," as he went and put the tape in the VCR. I giggled.
"It's okay, Daddy," I said. "Next time, we can watch one of your silly cop movies, okay?" In response, he gave me a dirty look. I just smiled sweetly at him.
As the movie started, we sat on the couch, side by side with the bowl of potato chips between us and our drinks on the coffee table. I was drinking mine pretty quickly. I was finding that even though the drink was pretty weak, the taste of the liquor was growing on me. I quickly finished it, then, holding the glass in my hand, I looked up at Daddy with a pleading look in my eyes.
"Oh, no," he said. "You're not having another one, so just forget it."
I pouted, then heaved an exaggerated sigh, and then put my glass back on the table, and focused my attention back on the movie. A few minutes later, I saw Daddy put his empty glass on the coffee table. I waited for a couple of minutes, then I picked up my glass again.
"I'm going to get more soda, Daddy," I said. "Do you want another drink?"
"Sure," he said. "Just fill the glass with ice first, then put whiskey in up to here," he touched the glass about a third of the way up, "and then fill it the rest of the way with soda. Do you want me to pause the movie?"
"Naw," I said, "it's okay. I've seen it a hundred times."
I went into the kitchen, opened the freezer, and pulled out the ice cubes. I filled both of our glasses with ice, put the tray back, and then opened Daddy's whiskey bottle. Looking towards the living room to make sure that he was still on the couch, I filled his glass about halfway with whiskey, then filled my own about a quarter of the way. I quickly topped off both glasses with soda, and then brought the drinks back to the living room. Yes, I know; even then I was an evil little thing.
When Daddy took a sip of his drink, I saw him wince.
"Sorry, Daddy," I said. "I guess I put too much whiskey in it."
"Good Lord, Princess!" he exclaimed. "Are you trying to get me drunk so you can take advantage of me?"
"Do what?" I said. I didn't know what he meant about taking advantage of him, but the part about trying to get him drunk was pretty accurate, so I just pretended to be confused.
"Nevermind, Princess," he laughed. "It was a pretty lame joke."
"Oh," I said. "I don't get it."
"It's not important, Sweetie, don't worry about it."
We continued to watch the movie. After his first shock at how strong I'd made his drink, he consumed it pretty quickly. I did the same, and while the taste had grown on me, I was beginning to like the effect even more. I felt light-headed and a little silly, and quite relaxed. When I had finished it, I put the glass on the coffee table, moved the bowl of potato chips there, too, and then leaned against Daddy, lifting his arm to circle my shoulders so I could snuggle into his side.
I had my hands folded in my lap and my head resting on Daddy's chest.I could feel his hand sort of grasping my upper arm, holding me close to him. I felt so very warm and safe like this, like I was completely protected from anything and everything that might ever harm me. I pulled my feet up onto the couch against my butt and slid one hand across Daddy's belly, hugging myself to him. I felt him move, then kiss the top of my head, and I sighed, wiggling a little to get even closer to him.
Suddenly, I heard him pull in a quick, sharp breath. Raising my head, I saw that he was looking down at me; then I noticed that the top of my bathrobe was hanging open, and that Daddy could see down inside of it. He could see my nipples. I didn't have any breasts yet, even though I called them that. He was staring down into my robe, and I felt a rush of warmth between my legs that I usually only felt when I touched myself there.
I pretended not to notice that he was staring into my robe and went back to watching the movie. I was acutely aware, though, of exactly what Daddy was looking at, and it wasn't the movie. My bottom kind of twisted involuntarily as I felt a tingle between my legs and a bit of moisture on the inside of my thighs. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed something, and I looked downward at his lap. Now it was my turn to pull in that sharp breath.
The front of Daddy's pajamas looked like a tent! I knew that meant that his penis was hard and standing up. While I wasn't completely sure, I suspected that it was hard because he was staring at my breasts. I heard a little voice whispering in my head, telling me that I should touch it, but I was too afraid to. I didn't want him to be mad at me. I forced myself to not touch it, but, oh, how I wanted to! I wanted to open his pajamas and take it out, hold it in my hands and touch it, feel it, explore it. I thought for sure that I was going to burst from curiosity.
Again, I gave no indication that I was aware of anything out of the ordinary. There was now a fair amount of moisture coating the inside of my upper thighs, and forcing myself to remain still was excruciating. Finally, I reached to his hand with one of mine and then held it in both hands against my chest. I didn't do anything else, I just held his hand tightly to my breastbone for a few minutes.
I was going crazy! I didn't know what I wanted, but I knew that I wanted it, and I wanted it right now. I worked Daddy's hand until I was holding it flat, then I pressed it against my chest, sliding it so that his fingers were touching one nipple. A sharp jolt shot from my nipple to my vulva, bringing a deep sigh from me at the same moment that Daddy sucked in another deep breath. The movie was over now, but neither one of us was moving. Timidly, I reached out with one hand and placed it on Daddy's penis where it was poking up inside of his pajamas.
"Princess, stop!" said Daddy. "This has to stop, right now!"
"Daddy, please?" I whimpered. "Please? I... I need... I need..." My voice trailed off.
Suddenly, he scooped me up in his arms and held me tightly. "Oh, Princess, I know. I know, Baby. But we can't. So I'm going to do what I always do when I think of you like that. I'm going to go upstairs to the shower, and I'm going to play with myself. That's all we can do, Princess, and since I know that you play with yourself, too, you should go and do the same thing."
I pouted, then pulled back to look at him. "Daddy, can I watch you? When you play with yourself, I mean? Please?"
"Uhm, no, Princess. That's not a good idea."
"Why not, Daddy? You won't be touching me. I just want to see it. Please?"
"Amy, no. It's not a good idea. I don't..." He cleared his throat and looked away for a moment. "I don't know if I can trust myself not to touch you if I let you watch me like that."
I gave an exaggerated sigh. "Oh, alright," I said. Then, my evil streak came out. "Just remember, Daddy, I'm going to be in my bedroom doing the same thing to myself. You think about what I'll be doing while you're in the shower."
As I walked away from Daddy, heading to the stairs to go to my room, I untied my robe. As I started to climb the stairs, I slipped it off so that the last he saw of me that night was my naked butt walking up the stairs. | null | Chapter IX - Amy | Authors/Daddy_Little_Slut-Muffin/stories/hetero_stories/Sweet Sweet Amy 09.txt |
109,880 | Rajah Dodger | At The Movies | You met me in one of the private booths in the back. The screen came on and rolled the movie I had selected. It was a story about a massage parlor, and when the housewife went in and was surprised to get a woman to serve her, I wrapped my arms around you and cupped your breasts, hefting them and letting my fingers define their contours. Your breathing grew slow as you watched the housewife slowly strip, and I lifted the front of your skirt to run my hand down and up your leg, ending at your panties, which were already damp.
The woman doing the massage was rubbing and kissing the housewife's perky bottom now, and I matched her motions by kissing your neck while I leaned you back against me so I could work my finger into your panties and your hot slit. I rubbed my finger up, down, sometimes just a little in, and you started writhing from side to side. By this time the woman in the movie had the housewife's legs over her shoulder and she was tonguing the woman until she cried out and pounded her hands against the massage table. You took my other hand off your breast and pressed it to your mouth, muffling your own cries as your other hand pushed mine so I was slicking my finger down and rubbing my palm against your clit. You shook hard several times and bit my palm a little.
You wiggled in my lap as my finger swirled in your soppy slit. The movie had changed scenes without our paying strict attention, and now there were three women in the massage room. The housewife was on her back and one woman was squeezing her breasts while the other was sliding a large grey dildo in and out of her. The housewife was moaning loudly, and I slipped my finger fully inside you, moving it in and out in rhythm with the action on the screen. You finished unbuttoning your blouse and slid your bra cups up and off to caress your own breasts as I did this.
The woman with the dildo pressed it deep inside the housewife and leaned down to suck her clit, while at the other end the woman massaging the housewife's breasts climbed up on the table and lowered her crotch to receive the housewife's tongue. I could hear your breath coming in short pants, and I worked a second finger in between your legs. You began rhythmically squeezing your legs around my hand, tight then loose, tighter then loose, and when the woman on the table started shaking all over you grabbed my hand and moved it in and out fast. You shook once, twice, then rubbed your ass hard from side to side against my crotch as you came, quietly, breathing hard.
You sat in my lap, leaning back against me as your breath returned to normal. On the screen the two women had tied the housewife's arms onto the table and were tickling her with feathers. I watched the scene as you got up and asked me to trade places. When I stood, you quickly undid my belt and zipper, and tugged my pants down before letting me sit on the bench in front of you. You slid your cool hands into my briefs, moving your fingers down to play with each of my testicles. I was already hard, and the visual stimulation on the screen only enhanced the tactile stimulation of your fingers.
You left one hand casually stroking the bottom of my ball sac as you withdrew the other one. I watched the women on the screen lift the housewife's legs, wondering, when your hand returned to the inside of my briefs, warm and sticky-wet. You clasped me, making a loose fist, and started moving your grip down and up my shaft, coming almost all the way off the head on the upstroke. I opened my legs wider and breathed a low "aaahhhhh" as my erection grew. You took advantage of my spread legs to wiggle your fingers down to the soft spot between my balls and my ass, and I lifted my hips involuntarily when you teased me there with a sharp fingernail.
Your fingers and palms were working me quickly into a lather, and when I opened my eyes again I gasped at the scene on the screen. One woman had her face and tongue nestled between the housewife's nether globes while the other was slowly working an extremely large dildo in and out of the housewife's pussy. The camera zoomed and I could see her labia stretched and tugging as the woman would pull it out. That was the last straw, as I groaned and said "oh my... ohhh I'm... gonna..."
"I know," you said, and you started lightly squeezing my balls with one hand as you slid your other hand up and down. My groin muscles spasmed and I jerked my hips, thrusting up and back at your hand, sending wave after wave of sticky hot semen up onto your wrist and hand, soaking my briefs (good thing you took down my pants) and dripping down inside where your other hand rubbed the creamy stuff into my balls. I closed my eyes as my jerks slowly grew farther between and slower, less intense. Finally we sat there, your right hand lightly stroking my balls as the movie came to an end and I heard you say, "So what's the second feature?" | null | null | Authors/Rajah_Dodger/at_the_movies.txt |
110,202 | Katie McN | Private Conversations | Younger lesbians often talk about seducing straight women. Older lesbians are more interested in finding someone to love. There is pain for a woman who is left behind when her lover returns to the past.
She sat alone. Her table was on the patio where she could see the cars as they pulled into the restaurant parking lot. She waited for him and wondered what to expect.
"Linda, it's me, Rachel. I had to call you. Ed is an hour late for lunch, and I don't know what to do."
"Hi Rachel. Calm down. Did you check your messages? Maybe he's having car problems."
"We were supposed to meet here for lunch." Rachel started to sob. "We had a fight, a really bad one. I think it's all over. I think he broke up with me. I know he doesn't want to see me anymore."
"Hold on, Sweetie. I'll be there in ten minutes, and you can tell me all about it over a glass of wine."
A glass of wine became two. The second glass opened the gates of conversation. Linda heard about Ed, about the argument that got worse and worse. Neither one would back off, and he ended up leaving her with nothing but the sound of a slamming door.
It was Wednesday. They always met for lunch on Wednesday, but he didn't show up, and he didn't call. She left two messages, but he didn't return either one.
"Why won't he return my call?" Rachel asked. "We were together for three years. Why, Linda, why, why?"
"I don't know, Rachel. Look, we're both getting a little tipsy. Why don't you come over to my place, and I'll cook dinner?"
"You've been so nice. I can't put you to any more trouble, so let me find my car, and I'll go home."
"It won't be any trouble. I have to make dinner anyhow, and I don't want to eat by myself. Come on."
Rachel helped with dinner, and it took her mind off her loss. They worked together, and things got done. The meal was fun, and the pain was hidden somewhere in the background.
"Thanks, Linda. It's so nice being able to talk with you. How can you stand listening to all my problems?"
They were sitting in the living room, sharing a carafe of white wine. Nothing memorable. Enough to make the sadness hide and the pain go away. "Rachel, you're a nice person. You and Ed have had your problems, but you got over them, and you can do it again. I thought you were talking about marriage."
"That's what I wanted. That's all I've thought about since I was a girl living at home, listening to my mother talk about the wonders of married life, children, and all the things a woman needs."
"You can work through this, Rachel. You just need some time."
The two women talked, and Rachel felt the pain start to leave. The spear in her side didn't hurt as much. She thought she was feeling better, and then she broke down and cried again.
"There, there, Sweetie, I understand. Everything will be all right. Don't worry." Rachel sat next to Linda on the couch. She found herself in Linda's arms and felt secure. She could smell the fresh scent of Linda's long brown hair. Her ear was pressed against Linda's chest, and she heard a heartbeat tell her she was safe.
Rachel never knew how it happened. She remembered Linda's blue eyes and her pink lips. She remembered how the tongue felt as it sneaked inside her mouth. She remembered when tenderness changed to sounds of passion, and friends became lovers. She remembered all of that, but she never remembered how it started.
Some of their clothes were on the couch. Some ended up on the floor. They finished undressing in the bedroom and found each other before they had a chance to pull down the bedspread.
Kissing. Holding. Touching. There were new smells. Fingers explored different sensations. There were new sounds. Bodies pressed close together in a single embrace. One where there used to be two.
Rachel had never touched another woman's breast. Now she lusted after the two firm globes Linda offered for dessert. She felt a hand moving down her back and fingers squeezing one of her ass cheeks. A leg forced its way between hers and rubbed against her pussy, against her clit. Electricity moved through her body and found a secret place in her mind. Colors flashed, and she heard the sound of herself losing control.
More. More. Touch, feel, hold. Kiss me. Kiss, kiss. Rachel held Linda's breast and almost sucked it into her mouth. She kissed her way down Linda's tummy and wondered if she could do it. Yes, she could. She wanted to taste her friend.
Rachel's tongue trailed over the slit between Linda's legs. She could feel the wet and smell the love. She found Linda's clit and teased it with her tongue. Licking, pushing, probing. She tried to suck it into her mouth. Linda moaned.
She heard a scream and realized it was her own voice. Her body announced an orgasm and gave itself over to the power of lust.
Rachel knew what Linda wanted because she wanted it too. She learned from Linda and practiced her lessons in the tiny bed that was more than enough for two people who were so close together.
Did they make love only once? No, the sun was peeking through the bedroom window when they finally crawled under the covers. Rachel couldn't remember how many times her body was satisfied. It must have been enough because she was falling asleep, but she still thought she wanted more.
The taste of tiny kisses burned sweetly on Rachel's lips. Her ass felt a pussy pressing against it. Arms held her. Hot breath tickled her neck. A hand moved to her pussy. We can't start again, or maybe we can.
"He finally called me, Linda. We got together for drinks and a long talk." Rachel often thought about seeing him again, and it finally happened last night.
"It's been almost a month. What happened?" Linda asked.
"Nothing at first, and then something came over me. He touched my hand, and it happened. He moved closer, and I could feel his aura surrounding me. I started to remember why I was with him for all that time."
Rachel thought about the evening. There was more, but she didn't want to tell. No, it would hurt Linda to know what really happened. The kiss. The old feelings and then going home. It seemed so normal to make love with him. The end of a nice evening, something lovers do. Not different and not really unexpected.
"Rachel, what's wrong. You're off in space somewhere."
"It started to come back. Three years. Marriage, babies. It started to come back, and I wanted all of it."
"You were together for a long time. He's a nice person. What else happened?"
Rachel thought about what she could say. She didn't want to hurt Linda, but she didn't want to lie either.
"You're right, Linda. There was more. He wants to get together again. He wants to talk some more, and he told me there are things left to discuss. He's right."
"What do you want to do?" Linda put her hand on Rachel's shoulder and willed love to flow into her body.
"I dreamed about this conversation a hundred times. I saw myself saying some awful things, and I wanted to say them. When I was sitting there next to him, all the bad feelings went away."
"Are you going to see him again? What are you going to do?"
"I don't know. I'm afraid, and something happened when I heard his voice."
They talked, and they cried. Rachel felt emotions tearing at her chest. She heard the soft words Linda used to soothe her, but it didn't work. Ed was still in the room. He was still in her life.
"Rachel, I love you and want you to be happy. If you still love him, I'll understand and get out of your way." Rachel saw the tears running from Linda's eyes and wanted to make things better, but there was Ed.
Rachel dialed the familiar phone number. She heard it ring once, twice, and he picked it up on the third ring. "Hello."
"Hi, Ed, it's me."
"Rachel, last night was great." Ed seemed happy to hear her voice. "God, I missed you in bed, and wish you were here right now. Why don't you come over?"
"I'm having dinner with Linda tonight. I just thought I'd give you a call."
"You can get together with Linda anytime. We have things to talk about. I want to make some plans. It's time we set the date and let your parents know they'll be getting some baby pictures soon."
Marriage, babies, everything her mother enjoyed. Everything Rachel dreamed about as far back as she could remember. Yes, it felt right. She listened to Ed and knew she should be with him. He was the key to everything she needed.
"Come on, Rachel, Linda will understand. Do you want me to pick you up?"
"Things are moving a little fast, Ed. Maybe we should take more time."
"Dammit Rachel! We've been together for three years. How much longer do you think I can wait?"
"I don't want to fight again, Ed."
"Then quit wasting time and get over here. We have things to do, and Linda is not part of them. Do you understand?"
Rachel understood. More than Ed would ever know. More than her mother could know.
"I'm sorry, Ed. Something happened, and I know it's over between us. It's time to move on with our lives. There's nothing more to talk about. Not now. Not ever. Goodbye, goodbye, goodbye."
Rachel put down the phone and started to cry. It wasn't over. Ed would call again, and she would have to explain herself and wondered if she could do it.She had to tell her mother who wouldn't understand. She could hardly understand any of it herself. Her thoughts and emotions swirled around in a pool of confusion. She felt relieved and sad. She felt like a weight was lifted from her shoulders, and yet she knew it could come back again with just one word, one touch, or one look.
"Rachel, tell me what happened. I want to help you." Rachel saw the tears in Linda's eyes and knew she wasn't alone. There was someone who would help her get by the pain. She knew she could make it.
Rachel looked at Linda and saw something more than her best friend. "Linda, do you know that I love you?"
"I love you too, Rachel, but let's not rush. Let's take care of you first and then see what happens."
The End | null | null | Authors/Katie_McN/PrivateConversations.txt |
110,404 | Blade | View Across the Alley | Yes, I knew that it was too early in the day to be chugging down a beer. Then this sweltering heat was getting to be a bit unbearable. What was this now, day five or six of the temperature being in the triple digits? I had replaced the pads on the swamp cooler and I had gotten the best available. I opted to upgrade the pump as well. Still no relief in sight as the house was basically like an oven. Well, my bladder was calling me, so I walked down the narrow hall and into the bathroom to take a needed piss. Walking back into the hall, I saw the chain dangling overhead. Then, doing the imaginary palm to the forehead, my light bulb went on. I was like, "DUH! How could you have been so dumb?" Every Spring, I open the shutters in the attic, and every fall, I close them shut. However, this Spring, I must have been brain-dead as I never thought to open the shutters back up.
Pulling the chain down and towards me, the staircase came down, and along with it, a mega blast of heat. It suddenly became so hot that it almost took my breath away. Trying to steady myself along the wall, I went up the stairs. Once I was up and on my knees, I began to crawl to the front shutter. I could feel the sweat rolling off of me. My thought was it must be 120 degrees or more up here. My breathing was getting labored as catching my breath was getting harder to do. I undid the latch and pulled the shutters to me. Almost instantly, it seemed like a battle with the hot air trying to escape and a much cooler breeze trying to replace it. I latched the shutters into place and slowly caught my breath again. It was still hot as hell, but a big relief as well. I felt too weak to stand up and walk across the floor, so slowly, I crawled to the back shutter. Again, I opened it, and the hot air began to escape. Now there was a passageway, and the cool air was finally circulating. Although still very hot up there, the bit of breeze blowing across my sweat-soaked shirt did feel very good. I knelt there, my face against the screen, trying to catch the entire available cool breeze passing through. I leaned back and latched the shutters in place. "Well, dummy," I thought, "this little 'discovery' will make a big difference inside the house now."
I was getting ready to stand and go back down the stairs when some movement caught my eye. There, directly across the alley, was a young girl in her backyard. She appeared to have just walked out the backdoor and was going towards a lawn chair in the middle of the yard. She seemed to be carrying a tote sack in one hand and a large mug in the other. She set them both down on the side of the lawn chair. This was one of those sling-type lawn chairs with an adjustable back and armrests as well. She pulled a towel out of her tote sack and spread it out. Then, she bent over and pulled out a bottle from the sack. Pouring some of its contents into the palm of one hand, she set the bottle down and began rubbing the stuff all over her body. "Must be sun tan lotion," I mused.
She put one foot up on the lawn chair and began working the lotion up and down her leg. This is when I began to take notice as to her body. Quite sure that she was pretty young. She was wearing what I think they now call a string bikini. They leave little to the imagination. Then, this girl did not seem to have much to "show" as it is, I thought. She took the one foot down and placed her other one up. Well, she did have nice, long, slender legs, almost skinny really, but they did have a decent shape to them. Then, her being bent over, she still had no sign of a belly. So yes, skinny she was, but not someone that I would call anorexic. Having covered her body in tanning lotion, she put the bottle away. Pulled some way too oversized sunglasses on and reached back in the sack and pulled a magazine out. Turning towards me, I got a great view of her front. Well, no tits at all, it seemed. Then, like I said, she seemed quite young, although there was a bit of a curve in her hips and a slight bubble in her butt. In time, she would develop into one hot young lady, I thought.
She sat back on the lounge chair and began flipping through the magazine. I watched her for probably another five minutes. Then, I was starting to feel like a peeping tom doing what I was doing. So, I thought I would go back downstairs and take a quick shower. Although I was not sweating like before, my body was very sticky from earlier. As I began to rise, I saw the girl place the magazine across her flat chest and place the other hand in her bikini bottom. Without thinking, I was kneeling again. Yes, she now had my full attention. Although she was probably one hundred plus feet away, I still had a pretty good view of her. She seemed to be rubbing her mound and beginning to masturbate. I wonder if she has any pubic hair yet, my mind was asking. After maybe a minute of this side show, she pulled her hand out. She took the magazine off her flat chest and reached in the tote sack and pulled another one out. Well, paying guest or not, I was entered in this side show.
There was too much distance, so I could not make out anything as to what types of magazines she was looking at. Imagine, at her age, most likely one of those "heart throb" teen magazines all the girls must have, looking at all of the cute boys and swooning a bit. Yes, infatuation at that age was always there. She must like what she is seeing as she pulled the magazine sideways and was looking at it. "Must be one of those pull-outs," I thought. "Yes, Justin Bieber, or whoever, this girl is so turned on by your picture." As that thought was passing through my mind, her hand started going downward and past her belly button and over her bikini bottoms. She started rubbing herself again. This time, she seemed to be doing it a bit harder, and it was a bit more intense as well. Then, she took two of her fingers and pulled her bottom to the side. Now, my eyes were straining as I wanted to see her young, tight, and most likely juicy cunt. She pulled her legs up, and her knees were high in the air. From where I was, she seemed to be working her middle finger in and out of her cunt. The more I watched, the harder she seemed to be fingering herself.
I went to rub my crotch and suddenly realized just how hard I was. Then, I was so enjoying the show this delightful little girl was putting on for me. I undid my pants and pulled out my cock and began to stroke it. It had been years since I had jacked off. Then, it had also been years since I had ever been this turned on and with a young teenager at that. With her free hand, she tossed the magazine towards the tote sack. Then, she put it under her bikini bra and started rubbing her almost nonexistent breasts. She was starting to squirm in her chair. I knew she was close to reaching an orgasm. Then, I was thinking, "At what age can these young girls start achieving orgasm?" Well, one thing for sure is that this old fucker was jacking off along with her playing. She pulled her butt off the chair and pushed it into the air. Her hand and finger were working so hard and fast that it looked like it was almost slow motion. About that time, the feeling started taking over my own body. I felt myself start to quiver as I jacked off like I was a teenager with blue balls. Soon, I found myself squirting rope after rope of my cum, some up to two feet away. I had totally lost my breath. "Gawd, was this good or what!" I thought.
Looking back down at the girl, I could see where her butt was now resting on the chair. Then, her body was glistening with sweat, and she appeared to have lost her breath as well. I put my now soft cock back in my pants and zippered them up. She sat up and took some gulps of whatever she had in her mug. Then, she stood and began putting everything back in the tote sack. She picked up the towel and tried patting herself dry. Picking everything up, she walked back towards the house and went in. A bit wobbly, I stood up as well. I imagined the girl would be going in to take a cool shower now? Then, as I reached the bottom step and lifted the stairway back into position, I thought, "Yes, a shower would definitely do me good as well."
Then, the truth of the matter is, I headed straight to the kitchen and grabbed myself a beer.I felt like I might have had a heat stroke, or would that have been a double heat stroke? First, the unbelievable furnace-like heat going up into the attic, and then the second meltdown in discovering the young girl across the alley and watching her play with herself. Most likely, it took less than two minutes to finish the beer, and off to the bedroom I went to strip and then take a much-needed cold shower. Yes, the shower did wonders in so many ways, not to mention getting me clean as well. Well, clean on the outside, but my mind was now conjuring up some fairly dirty thoughts as to the girl across the alley.
I hadn't been living in this house but about six years. Through an inheritance, a bit of luck, well-placed stocks, and hard work, I was allowed the luxury of retiring early. I pretty much kept to myself. I was not a loner, nor was I a big social wannabe. Most of my neighbors I knew by the vehicles they drove or the pets they walked. On occasion, I would have a short chat picking up my mail on the corner. I had never been married. Yes, very tempted a couple of times, but I always got cold feet. Now, yes, I do love the Ladies, I just don't seem to love them that much. Right now, I basically had three Ladies that I saw on the average of once a week. Not a job, but yes, they did manage to keep me busy.
Putting on a clean pair of jeans and a t-shirt, I put my house slippers on and went to the front room. I had a few things I needed to do on the computer, plus pay a couple of bills as well. All this new internet and electronic stuff had made me even more of a hermit. I went to check on a couple of the stocks I had invested in. Not much change there, the usual up or down a couple of cents daily. There were a couple of other stocks I had footnoted to watch. Then my mind was so lost and in a daze of sorts. No matter how hard I tried to focus and concentrate, it just wasn't there. My mind kept on going back to the girl across the alley.
I got up and went and pulled the chain, and the stairs came down. The heat hit me, but nothing in comparison to earlier today. Going up, I ventured to the back shutter and looked out. There was nothing there, just the one lonely lawn chair in the middle of the back yard. Yes, I was disappointed, then what was one to expect? I went back downstairs and turned my computer back on. I could not shake the image of that young girl, butt arched high in the air and her finger-fucking herself. Yes, I did watch porn on occasion, then it never turned me on like the girl across the alley did. So what did I do? I went and watched more porn for most of the afternoon.
Two more times that afternoon, I ventured back into the attic. Each time, I was greeted by the lonely lawn chair. I rarely ate out. I figure I can cook as good as most and at a much cheaper price. Then I knew I had to break the monotony here. I went and got in my pickup and drove towards Main Street. I was not really hungry, and so I was not really sure what I wanted to eat. Up ahead, I saw a sign for Hooters. I had never been in one, just heard a few stories and read a bit about them. Then I thought a burger and fries and a beer might just hit the spot. Well, what I had heard about Hooters was basically true, they all had "Hooters," and they were all basically on display. The place was fairly packed with the usual middle-aged white-collar after-work crowd. I opted to sit at the bar and kind of take in all the "sights." Most of the waitresses were college-age. Yes, a lot of cuties, but definitely too young for my age. So I opted to order the burger with avocado and bacon and seasoned fries. Oh, did I mention a beer as well? After finishing my second beer, I motioned the waitress for my bill. It was a bit over fifteen dollars, so doing the quick math in my head, I pulled out a twenty and left it there by the bill and headed out the door.
The street lights were going on as dusk was here. Getting into my truck, I heard the giggling of someone. Turning, I saw it was actually two someones. Two girls in short shorts and halter tops were playing and kidding with each other. They might have been junior high or high school, but they sure were hot. I shook my head, got in my truck, started it, and drove off. On the way home, I kept asking myself, what the heck was wrong with me? A bunch of fine-looking college girls working at the restaurant, and I saying yes, cute but too young for me. Then in the parking lot, some definite jailbait, and I thought they were hot?
After arriving back at my house, I got comfortable and laid in bed with an unfinished National Geographic magazine. Thumbing through it, I saw a section on the National Spelling Bee. Well, what would interest me as to the National Spelling Bee? Actually, nothing if it weren't for the pictures of some of the young lady contestants. So I flipped back and forth and finally decided I needed some sleep and turned off the light. Sleep didn't come easy, but it eventually found me.
The next morning, I woke up to find myself even more tired than when I had gone to bed. On the positive note, I also found myself awake with a massive hard-on. Yes, at my age, waking up like this is more the exception to the rule. I felt sweaty, so I decided to take a cool morning shower before breakfast. With breakfast done, I started to contemplate my day. Yes, the yard did need a bit of work, but nothing really out of shape out there. So I decided to boot my computer and check things out. Well, the usual spam mail, but I do sort through it as I have found that at times, a "good" email finds its way there. Then this morning, there was a lot more than usual. Looking at the page, I had twenty-eight emails in my spam where normally it may only be as high as ten. Then most were all porn-related. Not sure how they do it, but you look at their site, and they now seem to have your email address. So looking at the headers, I saw where I could buy me a Russian Bride, or a MILF only two miles away wanting to give it up, and yes, some of young teens wanting older men. I just pressed delete, delete, delete, and they were gone. In my regular mail, there was an email from a friend across the coast. A couple of offers on stocks and so forth. I shut the computer down and went out the back door.
I got the weed eater out and started trimming things around the yard. It looked like it was going to be another scorcher, so it was good that I was out early and beating the heat. After about fifteen minutes, the weed eater died; I had run out of gas. Going to my tool shed, I saw where my gas can was empty as well as no mixing oil. I grabbed the gas can and went through the house and got in my pickup. Stopping at the convenience store, I used my credit card to turn the gas pump on. Since I was already there, once I had put the two gallons of gas in my can, I opted to fill the truck up as well.
Once this was done, I went to replace the handle. About this time, a silver convertible drove up with a young redhead inside. Glancing at her as she exited her car, I thought as to how young she was. Then she was old enough to drive, so most likely, she had a license as well. She had on a pair of super-short and tight shorts. Then her top only went down to her belly, and her perky tits kind of poked through. She glanced back at me and smiled. I returned the smile and then, on cue, I turned and got back in my pickup. Sitting down, I felt a slight bulge in my jeans. Geesh, here I go again, and this jailbait so tempting to me.
I drove off and headed towards the hardware store. Once inside, I knew where they had the mixing oil. Walking past the plant section, there was another young girl watering the plants. She was a bit plump but cute as well. She greeted me and asked if she could help me. Well, I knew where I was going and what I wanted. Then I replied, "Where do you people keep the mixing oil for the weed eaters?"
She put the water spout down and replied, "Come follow me, and I will show you." She took the lead, and I watched her big ass do a bit of shaking. We got there, and then she asked, "Do you know what type you want or what size of oil?"
I looked at the shelf and then pointed down and said, "I guess I will take the six-pack of oil there." She bent down to pick it up and showed a bit of cleavage. Now, this I liked.
"There you go," she said, handing it to me. "Anything else I can get you?"
"No, that is all," I replied. "But Thank You for all the help."
With that, I turned and went to the checkout counter. Well, I was in "luck." The lady behind the counter was most likely in her sixties and a bit obese. She was pleasant enough, but I did feel a bit of relief in her not being a lot younger and my mind thinking all the wrong things. I went and got in my pickup and headed home. I turned the radio off and went to thinking. What is wrong with you? Twenty-four hours ago, you would have never given those young girls a second look. Now you find yourself a bit obsessed with them. Once at the house, I went to the backyard, mixed the oil and gas, and filled the weed eater up. It was already getting hot, so I opted to put things up in the tool shed and go back inside.
I took a cold water bottle out of the fridge and went and rebooted my computer again. I did what amounts to my normal morning routine on the computer. I answered a couple of emails. Read some proposals as to why I must have this and that. After about thirty minutes, my "work" on the computer was done. I went to shut the computer off and then hesitated. Then I told myself, why not? So I typed in "teenage girl porn." Up popped all kinds of sites. So now, for the next hour, I surfed all kinds of stuff.
Yes, each site had the same legal disclaimer as to where all are eighteen and of the legal age. Then I swear some of them could have passed for thirteen or fourteen.So I shut the computer off and headed to the hallway. Reaching up, I pulled the chain and dropped the stairs. This time, there was only a bit of a heat gust, but nothing like yesterday. Going upstairs, I went to the one open shutter and looked across the alley. Well, everything was there, except no sign of the girl. Then, common sense told me it could have been a fluke and a once-in-a-lifetime deal.
I turned and went back downstairs. I opted to leave the ladder down. I went into the kitchen and fixed myself a sandwich. Then I went outside and walked down to the mailbox to get my mail. There was the old guy there who was widowed and wanted to talk and talk and talk. So we chatted for a few minutes, and I excused myself and walked back home. I put the junk mail in the trash, sorted the rest, and put the two magazines on the coffee table. Then I went back upstairs. This time, however, the girl across the alley was on her lounge chair, so I made myself comfortable.
Having made myself comfortable, I was looking around the girl and saw that I may be a bit late for the show. I could see three or four of her magazines on the side of her lawn chair. Her bikini top was pulled up, and she was exposing her barely visible nipples. So nice and flat, I thought. What an innocent girl this is. Then, looking down, one could see she was not so innocent. Her bikini bottom was pulled to the side. Her left hand was rubbing quick and hard on her mound where one would think her clitoris was located. Then she would stop and kind of like slap it a couple of times and continue rubbing her little mound.
Now she slowly started to work her finger or were there two? God, how I wished I had a better seat at this show! From where I was, I could barely see her slit. It did not appear that she had any labia, just a slit there between her legs so that she may pleasure herself. Soon, I found myself kneeling forward and stretching my neck out to get a better view through the open shutter. I felt my cock pressing against my jeans. What the heck, I thought, and undid my jeans to let my cock out to play. Now, I do have a couple of Ladies that regularly entertain me, but I was shocked as to how very hard and stiff my cock was. This young girl across the alley was making me much harder than any of the experienced Ladies could. I found that both exciting and then a bit scary as well.
So I began to stroke my cock and could already feel a good cum on the way. The girl just continued to fuck herself into a frenzy with her fingers and pinching at her tiny nipples. Then her ass started to rise above the lawn chair, and her young cunt pointing straight into the air. Her fingers went to working faster, and my hand was doing the same on my stiff cock. I wanted to cum already, but I slowed down as I wanted to time it along with the girl's climax. It took less than a minute, and I could see her cunt and ass bucking into the clear sky. As she started to relax and lower herself, I found myself squirting cum across the attic floor. I was full of sweat and panting like a teenager who had just seen his first Playboy magazine.
As I tried to get some composure, I remained staring at the young girl. She had placed her bikini back where it went, but did rub her mound a few more times. The little slut, I thought. She just can't get enough, can she? Then she pulled her top back into place. She got up and took a drink out of her mug and began packing her stuff up. Much too soon, she picked it all up, and I watched her return to her house. Then I did think I noticed a certain little wiggle in her ass.
Well, the show was over, and I was spent. I could really use a nap now, I thought. Then I opted to take a shower after grabbing myself a cold beer. Looking at the stove, I noticed where the clock said 1:52. Then I did not check the time yesterday, but I could not get the idea out of my head that this might be a regular thing? With that thought, I made up my mind that she must start each day around one o'clock. Then I went to the bathroom for a nice cool shower and later a nap.
Waking up, I saw where it was almost three-thirty. I guess I must have taken about an hour-long nap. Then I just could not shake the images of the girl across the alley. I went and logged onto my computer. Nothing really of importance other than more porn spam. So I started opening some of them up in hopes of finding teen porn. Yes, not to be disappointed, as there was a lot. However, you had to pay if you really wanted to watch any of the videos. Why would I want to pay when I have a free show every day across the alley? I decided that I needed a break from the house. So quickly, I changed into some clean jeans and a decent shirt. Hopping into my truck, I backed out and just went driving. I had no clue where I was going. I just needed to go somewhere. So about twenty minutes later, I found myself sitting on a bench in a mall across town.
It was late Friday afternoon, and things were beginning to pick up as more and more people entered the air-conditioned mall. It was just a complete mass jumble of people. However, I found myself seeking out only the younger girls, and yes, there were plenty of them. Fortunately for me, most were scantily dressed. Some girls were in groups of three or four, a few were alone, and some in a family-like atmosphere. One particular family caught my eye. They looked like the normal husband and wife with what appeared to be a pair of twin girls. Both girls were dressed identically in tight white shorts, halter tops that barely hid their budding breasts and their perky nipples trying to point through. They also had three-inch clog sandals and long, thin, tanned legs. My thought was if I was the Daddy, I would have a shotgun to keep the boys at bay or have them locked in the basement.
They went into a sandwich shop-type of bar and grill. Well, it was about supper time, so I opted to follow them in. They were quickly seated in a booth. I opted to sit at the bar and keep a better eye on them. I ordered a pastrami sandwich with fries and yes, a beer. The four people, the mom, the dad, and the twin girls, appeared to be just a normal family. So why was I basically stalking them? This began to really gnaw at me. I finished my beer, paid my tab, and left. Looking back, it was very obvious that no one had really noticed me. Good, I thought. I was making a total fool out of myself.
On the way home, I saw a billboard for an Adult Bookstore. Geesh, it had been years since I had been in one of those sleazy places. Then the steering seemed to work on its own, and I found myself getting out of my truck and walking in. Did every porn store in the world have the same cheap feeling to it? Then, looking around at the scant few patrons, they all seemed to be old geezers cut out of the same mold. I began walking around and looking at everything on display. All kinds of adult toys and some I had never heard of or seen. Then I was amazed at the size of some of the dildos; god, they would choke an elephant to death! Most of the magazines seemed to have been sorted out by themes. Starting with the normal man/woman and then big tits and fat asses and some interracial and lesbian and gay and weird insertions... there seemed to be about anything in the world one could imagine sexually. Then some were getting a bit gross for my taste, magazines specifically about enemas and pissing and more. Then at the end of the wall, a title caught my eye, Young Tarts.
I picked it up. It was wrapped in cellophane, so you just couldn't simply thumb through it. Then the cover was not shy about saying what was inside. First, the cover "girl" looked very young. Yes, the common disclaimer of all girls being eighteen or more. However, this one with her cute and innocent smile and flat top... she could have passed for much younger. Then I started reading through the subtitles, Losing my Cherry, Home Alone, Waiting for Daddy, The Neighbors Little Play Thing. Now that one really got my cock to throbbing.
In the next thirty minutes to an hour, I found myself at the checkout counter buying four Teen porn magazines. Quickly escaping to my truck, I felt like a kid sneaking into his old man's pile of porn. I drove home thinking to myself, what the hell is wrong with me? Once in the driveway, I went inside, grabbed me another cold beer, stripped, and lay on my bed. Slowly, I tore the wrappers off the magazines and went to stroking my once again hard cock. I just could not believe how unbelievably desirable I found these Girls to be. Yes, a lot of them you knew were legal and could be more like in the mid-twenties even though their hair was in pigtails and they were dressed to be much younger. Then there were some that I never would have managed to believe were a day over eighteen. I decided to save my cum for tomorrow and hopefully see another show of sorts. I pushed the magazines aside and turned off the light. Then I just could not turn off the images of those girls as they continued to flash in my mind.
Waking up the next morning, I just laid there staring at the ceiling. Well, today is Saturday, I guess I could go out later for one of those buffet brunches that have become more and more popular or fix something here. No! I quickly snapped at myself. You are not going to be a total fool again like at the mall and following that one family into the restaurant! I got up, made my way to the kitchen, and put some water to boil. Soon, I found myself sitting at the table and eating some scrambled eggs and drinking my tea. Looking at the clock, I saw where it was barely after seven. Darn, I thought. That means another six hours or so of waiting.
I added more hot water to my cup of tea and went and booted up my computer. The usual six to eight emails I have in my inbox and yes, the ever-growing spam emails. Thirty-two this time.I'm thinking that might be a new record. Browsing through my inbox, I saw an email from Cathy and opened it up. Cathy and I go back a couple of years. Of all places, we met at the checkout counter in the grocery store and kind of hit it off. I never asked her how old she was, but I figured she was in her mid-forties at the most. I knew she was divorced and had two daughters, one in her second year of college and one going to be a senior in high school. We are what most would term FWB or friends with benefits. She has her needs, and I have mine. We get along in many ways, so a couple of times a month, we visit and make the most of things.
Opening up her email, I saw where it was basically a one-liner: 'Hey, let's do lunch.'
Normally, this would never be a problem, but I was normally not awaiting an afternoon show either. So, how do I skirt this one? Thinking time frame-wise and still getting to see both the show and Cathy, I responded: 'Got a backyard project I need to finish up. How about we meet around four? Name the place, and I will be there.' Even though we had been seeing each other for a couple of years, she never came directly to my place, and I had only been to hers a couple of times. We both seemed to enjoy our own privacy.
I opened up my spam, and it was loaded with porn as usual. Well, the new usual for the last couple of days. Most of them quickly went into the trash bin. Then, there were some titles that caught my attention. Once they were opened, most were quickly in the trash pile. Then, one of the last ones was about a mother and daughter team. Again, curiosity got the better of me, and I opened it up. Scrolling down, I saw two very scantily dressed ladies, one older and one younger. Some with the same hair color, but that's about where the resemblance ended. The titles were interesting: 'Taking on Daddy,' 'Sharing Our First Black Cock,' and 'Being Slaves for Mistress.' Yes, all fake, but good enough to make my cock throb.
About then, I saw where an email had come in. I sent this one to the trash department and brought the new email up, a reply from Cathy: 'Not a problem, four sounds like a plan. There's a new sushi place on Union and Second, want to meet there?'
I emailed her back, 'See you at four.'
So, my date with Cathy was set, and now to wait until my afternoon show. I thought I would beat the heat and get back to my weed eating and trimming. See, I told myself, you do have a backyard project. Everything was ready, and things went smoothly. So, in about an hour, things looked nice and tidy. I put up my tools and went inside, knowing I had just beaten the heat. Once inside, I made my way to the bedroom. I picked up the magazines that I had purchased last night and took them to the front room.
Sitting, I started thumbing through them again. Then, this time, I did take the time to read some of the poorly written articles. Looking at one of the centerfolds, it had a caption 'Enter our Dream Date Contest and go out with Jenna Cummings.' Well, quite the fake name, I thought. Then, an idea did pop into my head. So, I booted the computer back up and typed in 'Jenna Cummings' and nothing. Then, I tried it again and added 'teen porn.'
Poof, the right combination, and she was on my screen. I saw where she had a website, so I went to that. Read her intro, date of birth, town, and family. She's been in the porn business for a couple of years. So, doing the math, well, if she started at eighteen, she is at least twenty. I went through the list of her movies, mostly teenage-related but a lot of movies for such a young "starlet." Then, at the bottom of the page, were links that took you to links and more links. I was quickly learning there was a definite subculture and following of men and probably some women wanting to see younger girls. Now, I didn't feel quite as guilty. Then, just how old is the girl across the alley? I asked myself.
Walking back into the kitchen, I saw where it was nearly noon. I went and pulled the stairs down and went up into the attic. Well, nothing, I thought. Then, yes, a bit early, but I did not want to be late like yesterday. I went back down and decided to walk down the block and get my mail. The same old geezer was by the mailbox again. We made light chat, with him complaining about all the heat. I said goodbye and, about halfway home, saw another neighbor, this one mowing his lawn. He waved and shut off his lawn mower and started even more chat. Same subject basically as the how hot it was, with some global warming going into it as well.
I finally excused myself and paced myself quickly home. Going inside, it was ten of one. I grabbed a beer and went upstairs. Again, there was nothing, so I sat and waited and waited and waited. My beer was long finished, so I went for a refill; it was one thirty now. Plodding back up, I sat again and continued my wait. Pretty sure I could never be a private investigator; I definitely have no patience for that. I finished my second beer, went back down, and took a piss. Opening the door to grab another beer, I saw where it was now 2:17.
I shook my head in disappointment. I felt like I had just gotten stood up for the high school prom. Now, I took another trip back up the stairs. Plus, my memory jolt, you are supposed to meet Cathy at four for sushi. I waited until I finished my third beer, then went downstairs and placed the stairs up. Getting rid of my beer can, I saw where it was almost three o'clock. The place was not that far away, but I still needed to clean up. So, in a mad dash, I quickly showered and shaved. My hair still wet, I jumped into my truck, backed up, and drove off. But I could not shake the nagging thought of the girl across the alley having stood me up.
Driving into the parking lot, I pulled in next to Cathy's SUV. She got out as I opened my door and greeted me with a big, warm smile. We walked to the restaurant and into the cool, air-conditioned building. We were quickly seated and tried different versions of sushi. After a while, we were both stuffed and found ourselves pushing our plates back. It was Cathy's turn to pay. Something she had insisted upon since the beginning - I pay once, she pays next. It really all balances out, so why argue.
Once outside, Cathy leaned into my shoulder and said, "Well, I sure could use a nap. Any idea where this old lady might find a place?"
I put my arm around her and gave her a hug. "Follow me; quite sure I can accommodate you." So, she followed me home, and soon, we were both asleep in each other's arms. Waking up slowly, I could feel Cathy sucking on my cock. I looked down at her, and she just grinned. "Not sure what you were dreaming, but you were rock hard and poking me."
"Hard to say, I rarely remember my dreams."
"Do you mind if I get on for a joy ride?"
Before I could respond, she was on top and doing what we do best - simple fucking. Cathy must have been very much in the mood because she reached her first orgasm rather quickly. Then, since I had "saved" myself from last night, I was right behind her. She rolled on top of me as we caught our breath. My mind was still in a bit of turmoil, and I asked Cathy a question without thinking.
"Cathy, you have two young daughters, and I have never had any children of my own. What if you found out one or both of your daughters was in the porn business?"
Cathy rolled over and got on her elbows. "I have never really thought about it. Although I have thought of them being sexually assaulted and what I would do to the man if I found out. Why ask that question?"
"Well, to be honest with you, the other day, I was looking at some porn sites, and so many of these girls look so young, almost underage."
"I know they have age laws now. And yes, I find a lot of it disgusting, and then some of it kind of hot."
"Hot? Explain."
"Please don't laugh at me, it's kind of embarrassing. I have always wanted to do a certain role-play. Maybe acting out one with me dressing up in a school girl uniform that is very revealing, and my teacher then taking advantage of me. Or worse yet, one with me exposing myself, and Daddy watching. Please don't laugh at me."
"No, I won't laugh. It sounds a bit different but interesting as well. Maybe we can make those fantasies true one day?"
Cathy crawled up and kissed me. "Yes, I would enjoy that, I think."
We talked on a bit, but Cathy had to go as she had promised her daughters that they would all three go to the movies that night. I didn't put on any clothes, just grabbed another beer and relaxed on the recliner. There is a whole new world out there that I had never thought about. First, there was the girl across the alley and her being an exhibitionist of sorts, and then the big following of young girls and porn. Now, there was Cathy and her fantasies. Quickly, I dozed off.
I woke up a couple of hours later with a bit of a chill and went to bed. Lying in bed, I began fighting my head again. Then, like a kid going through his Dad's porn stash, I dug a couple of the magazines out and went to perving them again. A few of the girls didn't do much for me, while others were a total turn-on. Looking at the clock, it was now after one. Exhausted, I turned off the light and was quickly asleep.
The next morning, I was up at 6:30 and thinking of breakfast. Looking across the bed, I saw the magazines again, so eating was no longer on my mind. My conscience was really starting to gnaw at me. Then, with the realization of it being Sunday, I thought I would go to Church and seek "forgiveness." I was not a regular Church-goer, but I tried to attend a few times a year. I knew there was a service at nine and another at eleven. I opted to get ready and attend Mass at nine, as it was not packed like the later service.
I walked into the Church about five till nine and took a seat in one of the back pews. It looked like the place was about 3/4 full when Mass began.As normal, my eyes were drifting round and round. Only this time, my focus was aimed at the younger stuff. Some of the girls were cute as hell in their dresses. Others disappointed me because they opted to wear loose clothing and baggy pants. The priest gave a real good sermon on redemption and the price of getting into heaven. When the offering plate came around, I put in twenty bucks, figuring I needed to. Soon enough, Mass was over, and I felt better about myself. On the way home, I was convinced that I had done no wrong. After all, why would God put such beautiful young girls on this planet if we could not enjoy them?
I stopped at the convenience store and bought a couple of donuts and headed home. Once I was in the kitchen, I put some water on to boil and booted my computer. Fixing myself a cup of hot tea, I sat with the donuts and a napkin. Again, the usual 6-8 daily emails, and my spam box growing, as today they were at thirty-nine. One of the emails was from Cathy, so I thought I would open it and see what it said.
'Good Morning Sunshine, I hope you slept well. We did go to the movie. The kids thought it was great, and I basically slept through half of it. I think this generation gap is bigger than they say. I saw nothing in the movie, and on the way home, they couldn't stop talking about it. Not sure how we are supposed to communicate with these kids nowadays and make sense?
'Anyhow, I have been thinking really hard about our talk and my fantasy. It was a relief off of my shoulders to be able to share it with you and you being accepting of it. This type of role play has been on my mind for a few years now. So anyhow, earlier this morning, I got online and ordered me a schoolgirl outfit. You can check www.adultschoolgirl.com to get a better idea of what I ordered to wear. The outfit should be here Thursday or Friday. So I was thinking that when it gets here, I can model it for you, and we could possibly make a "date" and go from there? Then if you think I am a bit too naughty, you might opt to spank me as well.
'Best get breakfasts going. Looking forward to hearing from you. Kisses, Cathy'
I really had to scratch my head a couple of times. Yes, Cathy and I have had a thing going on for a couple of years now, but she had never been this forward before either. Then I was totally confused with the "If you think I am a bit too naughty, you might opt to spank me as well?" My tea was getting cold, and I took another bite of the doughnut and turned my computer off. Yes, a lot of confusing things I really needed to think about.
I walked about a block and a half and bought the Sunday paper. Yes, the normal couple of inches thick. I figure this should keep me occupied well into the afternoon, plus the walk felt good as it was not too hot yet. Back in the kitchen, I pulled out a stack of fliers and such, and in the trash, they all went. Sifting through the paper, I pulled out the crossword puzzle and went to work. Geesh, it had been quite a while since I had done the New York Times Sunday Edition, and it was a stumper as usual. Throwing it aside, I got up and started pacing around.
I was both antsy and nervous. Looking at the clock, it was nearly noon. I went to the hall and pulled the stair down. Going up, I peeked across the alley; nothing changed, still the same empty lawn chair. Then it was early. I went back downstairs and rebooted the computer and again read the email from Cathy. I typed in the address she had shared with me. Yes, all kinds of Adult Schoolgirls on that site. Most of the models appeared to be in their late teens or twenties, but hot as hell. Then I was really surprised to see a few older Ladies in their thirties and forties, and what appeared to be into their fifties, dressed just like schoolgirls and really looking pretty hot as well.
I started thinking as to how nice of a body Cathy still had for her age. This might be fun and get rid of my across the alley fantasy. Looking down at the corner of my screen, I could see where it was almost one. I went to the kitchen and grabbed a cold one and back up the stairs I went. Again, nothing, but I figured I would wait. So I slowly took light sips of my beer and waited with heavy anticipation. Eventually, the beer was all gone, so I got up and left the attic. The clock in the kitchen said 1:58.
Well, here it is nearly two, and another no-show. Then I was not going to take no-show for an answer. I grabbed another beer and went back upstairs and waited. Once I saw the back door open. It appeared to be an older lady and sweeping something outside. The door was shut, and disappointment set back in. I waited about another 15-20 minutes, and nothing. I was starting to feel like a total fool. So I went back downstairs, and I turned the computer back on and went for my third beer of the day. Then it was Sunday, I was telling myself, and already three in the afternoon.
Sitting again at my desk, I read the email from Cathy once more. This is the more sane approach, I told myself. No reason I should be fawning over a young girl at all! I had to admit I was getting better at this Google search involving porn. So all together, I typed in adult schoolgirl spanking porn, and up popped literally thousands of matches. Opening up the first site, I was not only introduced to something new in the world of spanking, but all types of "corporal punishment". And there was more... from young teenage girls to grandma-looking types, all with one thing in common, nice red asses.
It was almost four, so I opted for one last look for the girl across the alley. As I already knew, no one was there. Pulling the ladder back up and into place, I told myself, No more! She was not going to make a fool of me again.
I sat down and pulled up Cathy's email again. Looking and reading on schoolgirl and spanking and more really had me in a horny mood. So I replied to her questions.
'I must admit that your email caught me by surprise. Then so did your fantasy that you shared with me. Guess I have been living in a cave too long? I had no idea as to this schoolgirl craze? Not sure why an older lady would wish to go there, but I will admit the pictures were a turn-on for me. Then as well, I googled up some stuff on spanking and found there are some out there that like being spanked. I never would have ever imagined that. Again, I will have to admit that those nice red asses were very appealing. So you just might have me hooked there. So I would consider a lot of this, and yes, we can easily arrange this type of "date". Look forward to hearing more from you.'
Then I pressed send, and the email was on its way. I felt good again. I had a new adventure with Cathy and no more across the alley. Mentally, it had been a challenging day. First, my waking up with the lust for the girl across the alley. Then now with Cathy sharing and introducing me to things I had never thought about and so many people interested in what she calls role play. Just yesterday, I thought a good fuck was just that. Now I find my mind wandering off into areas I had never considered.
It wasn't five minutes later when I received a reply from Cathy. Geesh, she must be living on the email site, I thought. I opened up her email and read it through. Then I was getting a bit nervous as well. The last couple of years, we were friends with benefits, which worked great for us both. Then now with her wording, I was reading more than was being written.
'I just got your email.' No chit Sherlock! I thought. I just sent it. 'Anyhow, I'm getting very wet with anticipation as to our "date". This is going to be like a dream come true for me. I have been so much craving finding a man to share like this for so long. Then I do know that you will be great about it. When my friend Barbara shared with me as to the dynamic of this role play, I knew it was for me. She did say that finding someone to fill that role would be hard. But I do know that you will fill it perfectly. Have you decided yet if you are going to be my teacher or my Daddy? Then if you do find me naughty enough, will you give me a deserved spanking? Are you going to just use your hand or do you have a paddle in mind? I better quit now with all the questions. I think I need to go relieve myself and change. I'm starting to feel like a giddy teenager. I will patiently await your reply.'
Now I was really starting to get nervous. At best, I might get half a dozen emails a month from her. Then usually, it was just confirming a place and a time. Now this is how many emails today? Topped off with getting wet thinking about our date? Never had heard of her friend Barbara? Then what is this dynamic all about? I will fit perfectly? A deserved spanking? How will I spank her? Well, this was a little too much too soon. Daddy or teacher? This is all going way too fast. I decided I would think it over before responding. I did not want to sound all desperate like she did and jumping right back at her. I shut my computer down, went out to my truck, and decided some serious drinking was ahead for me and knew just the place.
Waking up the next morning, I had the hangover from hell. A lot I remembered, but a lot I did not. Luckily, the tavern was only a couple of miles from my house, and even better, the cops didn't bust me. Then most was a blur. I almost never drink hard liquor, and then ordering a beer with a whiskey chaser does get one in trouble. To me, the best thing to cure a hangover was another beer, and that is what I did; I went and pulled one out. Then I noticed that I was now down to two of them. I popped one open and quickly chugged half of one down.
I went to the computer and booted it up. Now I was even more confused. First, I had sworn off the girl across the alley... or had I? Then now this new stuff with Cathy and her change of attitude.Wasn't it much better when we were just friends with benefits? I had twelve regular emails, then two of them were from Cathy. My spam box was now at seventy-one. I shut it down and took a cold shower. Getting out, I didn't feel great, but I did feel a lot better. I really needed something in my gut, but I was in no mood to cook.
I ventured down to IHOP's and ate a big serving of pancakes. Figured all the sugar in the syrup would wind me up in a good way. On the way home, I stopped for a thirty-pack of beer. The clerk appeared to be in her forties. The waitresses at IHOP were about the same age as well. Putting the beer in the bed of the truck, a little Nissan truck pulled up. Out hopped a young girl. My thought was, "What did you do after you got dressed?" A well-placed spitball would have covered more. I didn't need more torture. I got in my truck and went home.
Getting home, I put about half of the beer in the ice box. I thought, "I will sleep this one off." I turned the AC on, stripped, and went to bed. Sleep came relatively easy. I got up, and it was now 12:45. My mouth was dry, and I had a horrible taste. I went and brushed my teeth and grabbed me a beer. Yes, great combination, is it not? My mind told me no, but my legs kept walking. The stairs were pulled down, and up I went. I probably hadn't been sitting five minutes when she came outside. Yes, the normal attire, the normal mug, the normal tote bag. It was almost like watching a rerun on TV. Then this one never got old. First, the lotion came out, then the sunglasses, and now she was kicking back on the lawn chair. She grabbed a magazine out and went to thumbing through it.
Before long, she was tweaking at her nipples (very small, so really hard to see). Then her hand made its way down to her crotch, and she began rubbing. So that was my cue to undo my jeans. She continued to rub, and I began to stroke. Not much encouragement was needed, as I was already rock hard when I attempted to pull my cock out. After a few minutes of her rubbing herself, she put her magazine aside as well as her bikini panties. I would have sworn she was now fingering herself and rubbing her itty bitty clit. Then from this distance, all I could do was use my imagination and see what I could see. I now found myself on my knees, head pressed against the window screen, and hoping for a better view.
Soon enough, she arched her back, and her little cunt was in the air. This told me she was about to cum. So I stroked harder and faster. Almost as in rhythm, we worked our members together. About the time I started to shoot cum everywhere, she was working the arch of her cunt up and down. Trying to catch my breath, she slowly sank back into her lounge chair. We had done it again and cum together. I was so very excited. Then who is this girl across the alley?
As much fun as it was, I knew it could be better. Yes, a lot better, and I was going to do that. Like she always does, she got up and went through her routine and went back inside. Then I really did need to see the shake of her ass better. I went back downstairs and began to formulate a plan. Drinking the last of my beer, I put the can aside and went and got into my pickup. The sporting goods store was my destination.
I could not believe my luck, and the girl across the alley returning and doing another show for me. Heading towards the stop light, my light bulb finally went on, or was it wishful thinking? OK, last week a couple of shows, and how Saturday no show, Sunday no show. Then she starts Monday off with a show. I was remembering back with the Lady sweeping out the backdoor. Well, most likely, she was unsupervised during the week, and someone was home on the weekends? Yes, that made perfect sense to me, and I should have thought about that earlier. Then, had I not made myself a promise of sorts and no more watching the girl across the alley?
I wasn't what most would call an active outdoorsman. Yes, in my younger days, fishing and hunting and stuff was a fun way to share. Then I did know a few guys still active, and Zeke's Sporting Goods was their preferred place to do business. I pulled into their parking lot and got out and went in. Yes, it definitely had the feeling of a mom-and-pop type of operation. I already liked the place. There was someone making a purchase and being checked out at the register. Then there was another customer and clerk looking at a fly rod. I knew what I wanted and looked around. There on the left wall towards the corner, I saw them. I walked over, looking but not knowing what I was really looking for. I picked one up and examined it. Put it back and then another.
About this time, I heard the voice beside me. "Interested in a pair of binoculars?" It was the clerk that had been at the register.
Well, I knew that I was, but I could not give him the reason why. "Yes, I have taken up a new hobby. I am getting into bird watching and would like to get a better view, so I thought a pair of binoculars would work great."
"Oh, yes, definitely so," replied the clerk. "Any particular type of bird you enjoy watching or just birds in general?" Why did this kid have to ask all of these logical questions? I did not think in that aspect. Maybe I should have gone to Wal-Mart where no one will take the time to address you, much less know what they are talking about.
"Well, I have always had an interest in birds. I like to watch them play and such and listen to them chirp and sing. Anyhow, a couple of weeks ago, I went to the lake and sat in a shaded area and was listening to all the birds and wondering where they were and who they were."
"I can understand where you are coming from, my grandfather was an avid bird watcher and used to travel hundreds of miles just to spot a specific bird." Could I tell him the bird across the alley was my real desire? "No, I don't plan on getting that involved. Just mostly curiosity I want to satisfy. So I'll watch mostly local birds and so forth like going back to the lake."
"Well, there is not much wooded area around the lake anymore, so I imagine a good pair of binoculars with a range of fifty to five hundred feet focus would work best for you."
I was now wondering if this kid had been in my attic. The kid picked up a pair and handed them to me. "I think this would be a great starter set." I put them to my eyes, and everything was a bit blurry. "OK, there is the knob in the middle, work it one way or the other to get the focus you want." In doing so, everything was becoming much clearer.
"Come, follow me to the alley." Yes, this kid knew too much. "We can do a quick test there." I followed him out the backdoor, and he pointed off in the distance. "You see that red and yellow sign out there?"
I could barely make out a sign that appeared to be about two feet square. I nodded yes. "Well, go ahead and see if you can focus on it." Again, everything was a blur. I adjusted the knob, and soon could read the small sign. 'Do not block, this door is for deliver/ pickups only.' I told the clerk, and he grinned.
"OK, that is about five hundred feet away. Now, see the smaller black and white one over there." He pointed about halfway between us and the first sign. I could see it, but could not even make out a blur. 'Private driveway. No Parking', was written in small print. Wow! I thought. These are just what I need. Then the clerk spoke again.
"OK, you see that box about 100 feet from us?" I nodded yes. "See if you can read the printing on the label." Focusing the knob, everything became clear. In small letters, I read 'this is the property of the USDA, please do not destroy.' Then what was even more incredible was the fact that there were two flies dancing on the box that I could clearly see. Then this distance was just about what separated me from the girl across the alley. These binoculars were mine, I told myself.
I looked at the clerk. "These are incredibly clear, I really like them."
"They are one of our best sellers. Then we do have even higher quality or cheaper ones."
"No, for a beginner bird enthusiast, I want to start with these."
"Would you care to buy a book with pictures of all the birds around the State?"
Did he really want to know that I only wished to view one specific bird? "Maybe later, I will be going slow with my new hobby."
I paid the clerk and went quickly back home. Going up into the attic, I focused the binoculars. The backyard was pretty clean of debris. Then in one corner, I saw a paper cup. Adjusting the lens, I read 'Jack in the Box', and below it in even smaller letters, '10 fluid ounces'. I felt good and could feel myself smiling. Tomorrow, up close and impersonal, that young cunt was going to be mine. I put the binoculars back in their carrying case and laid them aside.
Lifting the stairs back in place, I marveled at the total change of no more girl across the alley to tomorrow that cunt will be in my face. I booted the computer and went and opened me up a cold beer. Going back, I could see where I was getting way behind on my emails. Eighteen in the regular box and almost a hundred spam emails. Sifting through my regular email, I could see where four were from Cathy. A lot of months, she did not share that much. Then this was in twenty-four hours.
I opened up the oldest till the most recent. They started innocently enough. 'Just curious, have not heard back from you.' To the last one, 'I want to apologize, I did not mean to selfishly push my fantasies on you. Can we just go back to being friends again?' Poor Cathy, I thought. She is worried and with no reason. Then I was not going to share with her as to my new interest in learning about one special bird. So I started a new email to send to her.
'No need to worry. Basically, I only check my emails about once a day. Then you do not normally email me this often.'Yes, I am still very interested in us having our "date". I do believe you may have really whetted my appetite there for something new. Then, if we don't like it, we can at least say we tried and go back to our previous style. I hope that your week is off to a good start, and I'm looking forward to us getting together. I reread it and sent it. Staring at the screen, I had to ask myself, what was I getting into? Here, Cathy wanting to take on the role of a schoolgirl. Across the alley, an exhibitionist of sorts was driving me crazy. Was there a huge wreck up ahead in my life? I shut the computer down, ignoring the other emails. I finished my beer and headed for a much-needed shower.
Drying off, I knew I was hungry but not in the mood to cook. Throwing on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt, I dialed up the local pizza place. I gave them my address, and that was all they needed. "Yes, the regular," I told him. They should be there in forty minutes to an hour. I hung up, grabbed another beer, and rebooted the computer. Once everything became current on the screen, I went back to my emails. The latest one was from Cathy, who had already responded to my last message. Not wanting to sound too desperate, I left it alone and went through all of the others.
Once that was done, I went through my ever-growing pile of spam mail. I was beginning to think I was now officially turning into a perverted porn king. Most got thrown out and deleted, while some did catch my attention. I found myself spending about half my time looking at young girls and the other half learning about adult schoolgirls, reading up on role-play, and learning about spanking. The doorbell rang, so I grabbed my wallet and went to the door.
"Pizza delivery." Now my mind went, why did you have to send such a pretty young girl? "That will be $10.86, and I brought change for a twenty." Opening up my wallet, I had a ten and a couple of ones, even a five. I pulled out a twenty. Opening the screen, I handed her the money, and she exchanged the pizza.
"OK, change for a twenty," she said as she unzipped the bag.
I just looked at her again, "That's alright, keep the change."
"Are you sure, Mister?"
"Yes, I am sure, and thank you for the smile."
"You are most welcome, and thank you for the tip. Please call again. Oh, and I'm off Wednesday and Thursday's."
She turned and walked back to her Honda. Nice slim legs and a slight flare at the hips. Then I knew she was at least old enough to have a driver's license. Well, if I remained standing at the door, the pizza was going to get cold. Then, what did she mean I am off Wednesday and Thursday's? Guess one could take it many different ways. I set the pizza on the kitchen table, took out a slice, and went to chewing away as I stared out the front window.
I finished half the pizza and stuck the rest in the fridge. Cold pizza never hurt anyone in my opinion. Not knowing what to do but knowing what I was going to do, I did return to the computer. I was about halfway through my spam, so I continued there. More of the same ol' same ol', some interesting, some not. Then I started connecting to links here and then there. All the while telling myself this only means more spam. Then, right now, I did not care.
Tired and a bit weary, I noticed where it was a bit after eleven. I usually did not stay up this late. Then I remembered the email from Cathy. Shaking my head, I decided not to open it. And my quick response may give her false hopes, I thought. I can respond in the morning. Then, here I was interested in so much new stuff that I had never imagined existed. I shut the computer off and soon found myself in bed and asleep.
Waking in the morning, I found myself with a new eagerness, a lot of enthusiasm, and more in me. Then I also knew this was all fueled by the very fact that I was in hopes of seeing the girl across the alley's cunt up and in my face later today. I got up with a nice stiff cock and went and pissed. Yes, quite the norm when I was much younger, but not so much anymore. That girl had really stirred me up sexually. I dressed and had some breakfast. Putting the dirty dishes in the sink, I grabbed my cup of hot tea and went to boot the computer up.
Sitting, I looked at the clock. It was already almost 7:30, so a bit late this morning, but also a reminder of how long until I see another show. Again checking out my email, I saw where a second email from Cathy had come through. There were five other emails, so I opened them. I answered two and trashed the others. In my junk or spam email box, there were almost forty. Looking back and forth, trying to choose between the spam and Cathy, I opened Cathy's first email. It was basically what I was expecting. As to how happy she was, yet so nervous about us trying her fantasy things. Then, as to how her friend Barbara had shared on the spankings and how she enjoyed being used by her Daddy. I had been reading some on Daddy/daughter role-play and was still confused by it a bit. Then she kind of just ended the email. The second one was where she was so excited (again,) how she was anticipating our "date", and that she was going to go to bed but naked this time. 'Don't you think your little Girl is being naughty Daddy?' Followed by spanks, spanks, and the email ended.
All of this with Cathy was making me a bit horny and excited, then confused as well. Yes, I was looking forward to sharing on our "date" and learning and experiencing new things. However, when I thought of the idea of Cathy getting dressed up and so forth, the picture of the girl across the alley always came to mind. I sent Cathy a reply as to how yes, I was looking forward to us getting together for our "date" and such. Then I did finish off by saying yes, you are being such a naughty little Girl, and you will be spanked for teasing Daddy. I sent the email off and now wondered why I referred to myself as Daddy? This was all getting a bit confusing.
I went ahead and slowly cleaned out my junk email. Yes, almost all porn-related, but some of it I found a bit interesting. I kept seeing all of these numbers where you could dial a fantasy for ninety-nine cents a minute. I am like, WOW! That is almost sixty bucks an hour! Are there horny guys out there that actually do that? A little after nine, I had my spam all "cleaned" out. I had spent quite a bit of time clearing junk mail, I thought. Then, rubbing my cock through my pants, I knew I was horny plus. I went and pulled the stairs down and climbed up. I just knew that in less than four hours, I would be watching a special show.
I went through the attic and found an old folding canvas chair and dusted it off and set it up. I grabbed my binoculars and sat down. Adjusting them a bit, I got the best focus on the lawn chair. Practiced a bit with the knob and saw how I could actually get better close-ups. I was just surprised as to how neat all of this was. I went back downstairs and did some computer stuff. I was mostly checking my stocks, getting in touch with my broker, and such. Business stuff I needed to stay on top of to make me a few bucks, thus allowing me the luxury of excess sex time with the girl across the alley and what looked like more involvement with Cathy.
It was now a little bit after twelve. I went and fixed myself a sandwich along with some chips. I slowly ate as I thumbed through one of the teen magazines I had bought at the porn store. Most every cunt shot showed a lot of pink. Would the girl across the alley have only slits or more meaty lips of a hanging labia? Some of the girls had tits, while most were mostly flat-chested. Guess this is to make them look younger? I thought. There was one girl in particular that turned me on. She had virtually no tits, but her nipples looked to be well over half an inch long. Not sure why that turned me on? Well, in ten minutes, it would be one. I took the magazine to my bedroom and put it by the lamp. I stripped completely and put my house slippers back on. Went to the kitchen and grabbed a cold one, then opted to make it two.
Sitting back in the attic on my chair, I slowly stroked my cock and waited for the girl to appear. It seemed like it took forever, but in a few minutes, I saw the backdoor open, and she appeared. She had on the same bikini, the (what I knew now) light blue tote bag, and the mug with some worn-out writings on it. Man, it was like she was in the same room with me! I thought. These binoculars must be the greatest. She went through her routine of setting stuff down, putting on her sun tan lotion, and then her sun glasses before sitting down. Once comfortable, she reached in and brought out another magazine. She quickly opened it up so I did not get to see the name on it. She flipped through pages.
As she was doing this, I scanned her long legs up and down. Yes, a bit thin, I thought, but she did seem to have a bit of flare at the hips, much like the pizza delivery girl. There, her hand went, and she pulled the top of her bikini away. I could barely make anything out as the magazine was in the way. She discarded the magazine on the side and rolled over to pull out another one. What a little tease this little bitch was! I thought, as I could not catch a real glimpse of her budding breasts. She flipped through more pages and worked her nipple over with one hand. Finally, she worked her hand down to her bikini bottoms.
As usual, she began rubbing and rubbing herself over the cloth. Then she pulled the cloth aside and exposed her young cunt for the first time up and personal. Quickly, her hand covered it, so yes, teasing again. But what a fine fucking tease she was. I needed to quit stroking myself as I was far too horny by now. So I had both hands on the binoculars for better focus. Oh, gawd, was that hot or what when I saw her middle finger penetrate her cunt hole.She slowly worked her hand up and down, finger still inserted. She tossed the magazine next to the other one. Now her breasts were completely exposed.
Her finger was going in deeper and deeper. Now she went to jamming it harder in and out. I wanted to see her tiny tits up closer and her finger fucking herself. Then the way I had the binoculars focused, I could not see them both up close at the same time. Going back to her cunt, I saw where she now had two fingers deep inside her. Then I saw her start to arch. This was my cue that she was getting ready to cum. I lowered my hand and started stroking. Her ass was arched way into the air. Her fingers looked like pistons on a race car, as rapid as they were going in and out. I really could not see her tits anymore because of the angle, so I focused on her fingers working her cunt.
She was now humping into the air, and I knew she was ready. Then I was ready as well. As she humped harder, I jerked harder until I felt myself cumming. Oh, here it was, and I felt my cock shooting cum out and onto the floor. I jerked harder as I wanted to milk every last drop out. I had not realized how sweaty my hand had gotten, and the binoculars slipped and fell to the floor and slid away. Quickly, I was on my knees retrieving them as well as covering my hands and knees in my own filthy cum. I sat back down and focused the binoculars. Her body was now resting on the chair. Guess we both were able to cum together? I thought.
I could see her flat belly going up and down as she tried to catch her breath. Her body was glistening with a light sheen of sweat across it. My cock was now soft, but I still stroked it. What a beautiful baby doll, I thought. I could see the smile on her face, so I knew she was quite pleased with herself. Then, not nearly as pleased as I was. She leaned forward and started to get up. As usual, she took a big drink from her mug. She picked up one magazine and placed it in the tote sack. Now I could read the front of the other magazine. "Barely Legal". Well, I have an issue of that! I thought. Then, now my mind went to, was she "barely legal"?
She got up and walked back to the house. Now with a much better view (thanks to the binoculars), I did see the nice shake in her bubble butt. She went into the house, and I went down the stairs. I didn't even grab a beer this time; it was straight to the shower for me. Drying off and sitting at the foot of the bed, I thought, is this becoming an obsession of sorts for me? I got up and put on a clean pair of jeans and a T-shirt. Looking in the closet, I knew it was time for laundry. My washing machine had gone out a couple of months ago, and I had not replaced it.
I went and opened up another beer. Actually, I had only drunk half of one in the attic. I went back to the bathroom and gathered all my dirty clothes and headed out. About a mile from the house was a small Laundromat, so I headed that way. Going in, I was the only customer. I put my clothes in, inserted the money, and the washer began. As I went to sit, a pretty little thing walked in. I could see her long legs and flip-flops. The laundry basket was covering her top. She was opposite me. She placed her basket on the washing machine and lifted the top on the next one. I could see her loading it up with her dirty clothes. I did enjoy seeing her pretty panties and bras. What a total pervert I was turning into. Then I saw a frown on her face, and she went back outside. Quickly, she returned. She had on a half-top covering what looked like some perky nipples. Instead of walking back to her laundry basket, she walked towards me.
"I feel like such a clutz," she stated. "I forgot my laundry soap at home. Could I please borrow some of yours?"
I was a bit shocked. Then, how could I say no? I reached to my side and grabbed my bottle of laundry detergent. Handing it to her, I said, "Not a problem, young lady. Not sure if this brand will do for you?"
She grabbed it and smiled, "Well, beggars can't be choosers," she shared. Walking off, my mind now found the gutter again. I heard the top of the lid come down, and the washer quickly filling up. She walked back to my side and handed me the bottle. "Thank you ever so much. I am kind of pressed for time, and going back to my apartment was just out of the question. Oh, by the way, I'm Jamie."
She reached her hand out to shake mine. In return, I shook her hand, and she sat next to me and started chatting away. Guess her and her boyfriend had just had another mega fight. The last one, she promised me. As to how she was going to college and this summer, she had two jobs to support herself, and how her boyfriend was unemployed. I did most of the listening and a bit of nodding. I heard the buzzer go off, and my laundry was done. I had my dryer still working at home. Then I thought I would invest a dollar here and learn more about Jamie.
"Excuse me, I need to get my laundry in the dryer." Before I could stand up, she waved me off.
"No, don't be ridiculous. Let me do it for you."
She stood up and went and opened my washing machine. This time, she was on "my" side of the row, and the view was much better. Yes, VERY much better. Her legs were not overly shapely, but did have a nice taper to them. Then I could basically see the crack of her ass through the shorts. So very edible, I thought. Then, regaining my not so "common" sense, I stood up and fished for a dollar to start the dryer. Leaning over her a bit, I began to feed it into the machine. Only natural (well, to me anyway) I was now above her and looking down her open top and braless breasts. OMG! I thought. They do need to be appreciated. Feeling my cock start to throb, I knew I needed to return to my chair. Turning, I heard her say, "Thank you."
Simple enough was my thought, along with; I hope my hard-on is not so obvious? She turned and went to her chair. She moved it as well as readjusted it also. Sitting down, I noticed where she had "decided" to leave her legs a bit more open. Actually, very open. Well, in my opinion anyway. I got a view, but not a great view. I thought I could see a bit of pink with the idea of no panties. As I was ogling between her legs, she continued again.
"I am not sure what I am going to do. I am so fed up with all of these guys basically my age and not able to support themselves." My eyes had shifted, and I was now more 'gentlemanly'. "I mean, if I can work, why can't they? I have done some reading and am really considering finding an older, mature, as well as responsible man. Someone who can bring home the bacon and show me some appreciation as well. You know what I mean?"
Really caught off guard by that last 'question', I shrugged my shoulders, not knowing exactly what to say. My mind kept pounding on the same subject.................................... where are all of these hotties coming from? Surely there are more than enough guys to satisfy them? I was not sure if I was speechless or stuck in lust land? How do I answer this and not be too forward and not look like a total jerk?
"Well, I was always brought up that the man was the head of the house. Yes, exceptions at times, then both parties always pulled their own weight." Yes, not a poetic speech, but still unsure as what to say.
"Yes, I totally agree. I pull my share plus. I am there busting my ass, and the bastard stays home all day playing video games and texting. Which I am paying for his cell phone bill, by the way. When I do come home, it is to a kitchen of dirty dishes and more, and he wants to order carryout."
I could see the frustration as well as desperation in both her voice and eyes. Then, if I would have ever had a daughter, she would now be her age or older. Think with the right head, I kept telling myself. Be logical, be sane. The conversation went on. Her washing machine had gone through all of the cycles. Again using the "new" freedom I had, I reached over and inserted another dollar bill into her dryer and stole a peek or more. This is all insane, I thought. Then the idea of going home and jacking off thinking of her was very much on my mind.
The conversation continued, along with my constant nodding. She apologized and kind of excused herself. She got up and properly folded everything in my basket. Yes, even my socks and shorts. Again, the view from behind was VERY inviting. Returning to her chair, her legs were even more open. How is a grown man not supposed to openly drool at such a sight? Yes, it was now confirmed, no panties and a wet pair of pink lips staring at me. She went on talking, and my mind went to hoping the dryer would soon buzz off.
When it was done, she slowly started folding her own clothes. Then, not without "incident", picking them up, she opted to show me a blue pair of almost nothing panties. "Geesh, I am going to need to start using these as a dust rag!" She smiled and laughed. Then I noticed there was not a bra in her load. My thought was, she must be great walking around braless, and those perky nipples bouncing around and unattended.
She gathered her basket, and I did the same. Her in front of me, we exited the Laundromat. Turning around, she looked up at me and with the most beautiful and sincere smile simply asked me, "OK, I really owe you on this one. First the laundry soap and then you being such a good listener and not shutting me down. Can I have your phone number or something so that I can pay you back?" My mind was a bit confused. Pay me back for what? Should I not be paying you back for the nice breast view coupled with the open crotch shot? Quickly, she went on. "I am really good at cleaning up a place and so forth. I do have organizational skills, and my cooking is not too shabby. Hey, I can even boil water," she added with a bright smile.Being the total pervert that I was becoming, I gave her my phone number along with my email address. TMI is exactly what I thought. She gave me a quick peck on the cheek and put the basket in her car. I slowly plodded around to my pickup and put the basket in the bed. I heard a slight toot of the horn, and her hand was out the window, waving. I returned the wave and got in my truck and left. All the way home, my only thought was, where had I been all of these years? What had I been missing out on?
On the way home, I stopped and picked up a burger and a shake. It had been years since I had a chocolate shake, and this one really hit the spot. I still could not shake the fact of so many hotties out there, both young and old. Picking up a few things, I went and took a walk of sorts to gather the daily mail. Luckily, no one was around when I got there. Then lucky me, this month's issue of National Geographic had arrived. I always read them page by page, so a couple of hours of solid reading, and my mind out of the gutter.
Entering the front room, I tossed the magazine on the coffee table and booted up my computer. Only four emails this time. By now, the spam box no longer counted, was my thought. There was one from my broker and another from another stock company. It really made me laugh: 'we will not share your email address.' Then how come everyone seems to have it? As far as Cathy, it was basically 'oh how excited I am, and I cannot wait.' Why lie? My sentiment was the same. I combined both emails and sent my reply. I grabbed the magazine and went to my bedroom, stripped, and lay down to read. Around ten, I finished the magazine, rolled over, and turned out the light, and quickly went to sleep. No immoral thoughts, no hard-on. Just a normal old man, tired and wanting some sleep.
Well, that was until the next morning. Waking up with a raging hard-on, I was. Then my simple thought was going back to my teenage years, and yes, the memory was good. Thinking a bit about yesterday and more, I realized that it was Wednesday... Or as some called it, hump day. Right now, I could definitely relate to that. In an adventurous mood, I decided to make some fresh pancakes and fry up a bit of bacon. Once breakfast was done, I was very pleased. Everything had hit the spot. I made myself another cup of hot tea and booted my computer up. Again, the few daily emails, along with what was now becoming the two or more that Cathy was now sending me. I opened the others and thought I could reply to Cathy's later.
Once that was done, and I was soon looking at some stock stuff and more, yes, I was pleased with myself. This was all business again, like it should always be. I looked at the clock, and it was a bit past ten. So now, my thoughts turned as to how to pass the rest of the day. It did not take rocket science. In another three hours, I would be "entitled" to another show from the girl across the alley. I fumbled around and basically pretended to do a couple of things in the backyard as well as inside the house. Finally, it was noon.
I found myself stripping and getting ready. This time, about a quarter to one, I was seated in the attic with three beers. Then, like clockwork, she appeared. So, I got another hour-long show of sexual perversion. Again, we both got off about the same time. This was too good to be true, I thought. Picking up the one empty can, I went back downstairs. As always, lately, I was totally confused but enjoying it nonetheless. Into a nice, cool shower, I went. I needed to go to the grocery store and buy food supplies, I knew. In doing so, I was so proud of myself. Not eyeballing the young lasses as had become my custom lately. Quickly, I was in and out. Arriving at home, I put everything up and fixed myself a quick burger patty with cheese and ketchup.
I decided to go out and get the mail. Only this time, I was going to take the long route. So, facing the street instead of turning left, I went right. Walking almost a full block, I turned right again, then another right and right again. Now, I needed to search out the house of the girl across the alley, I told myself. I did see a couple of people outside in their front yards. Some were watering; others were trimming bushes, and so forth. I gave my basic cordial wave that I thought was needed and continued. No reason to arouse suspicion, I thought. Trying to get my bearings, I started to picture the house where the girl across the alley lived. Walking past it, I could only read the address on the front porch. No name anywhere. It looked a bit rough. A nice scraping and a decent coat of paint, and everything would have been fine. Mentally, I registered the address. I knew that later, I could Google it and most likely find out who exactly lived there. In this day and age, I had learned that privacy was now a thing of the past.
At the end of the block, I turned right again. Soon, I found myself in front of the cluster of government-approved mailboxes. Fortunately, no one was "hanging" around. Opening the mailbox, it was basically all junk mail. Then, what else would one expect in the middle of the week? I went home and tossed most all of it into the awaiting trash. It was getting late, but still early. Why not? I thought. So, again, I stripped, took a cool shower, grabbed a beer, and decided to lie down and take a nap. So much was on my mind, and not a clue as to where to go.
Waking up, I saw where it was a bit after five. I got out of bed and was going to throw my jeans on. Then, I told myself, why? Naked, I went into the front room and booted up the computer. Only three emails this time. Then, two were from Cathy, which now seemed to be the norm. Whatever happened to the maybe once or possibly twice a week? I thought.
I shut the computer off and went and got dressed. In about twenty minutes, I found myself entering the same bar that I had exited a couple of nights before. For better or worse, it was the same bartender. Again, she looked smoking hot. I sat at the counter, and she walked up.
"Good to see you again." My thought was, I hope I did not make too much of an ass out of myself the other night. "The regular?" she asked. I smiled and nodded yes. Like a good bartender, she served me my beer and took my money. The place was kind of quiet, then it was the middle of the week and a bit early. I could see a band setting up, so I assumed a dance later on. I sipped on my beer, and then had another one, and another one. Finishing off my fourth beer, I decided it was time to head home. I fumbled through my wallet and pulled out a ten and left it for a tip.
Almost at the door, I heard her voice. "Hey, buddy! Come back again." I was not sure if she really wanted me back or another good tip? Once in my own bedroom, I was naked and quickly asleep.
Waking up, I didn't feel too bad. Then, I almost never went to the bar in the middle of the week. I remembered the bartender's comment as I was leaving, which now put my mind in a whole new chain of thoughts. Had the world really been changing this fast sexually, and I was totally unaware of it? I mean, what ever happened to the good old fashion "hunt"? Now, it was open season on everyone, even an old man like myself. OK, the young lady tending bar, I doubt that she was thirty at most. Then, let's say she is half my age and more or less the age of a daughter that I never had.
Then, the girl across the alley definitely looked like jail bait and way too young. Then, as much as I knew what I was doing was very wrong, I was beyond myself when I would watch the "private" shows that she was putting on. Then, the thought intruded, what if she is underage, and I got caught spying on her? I could easily go to prison. Was the chance I was taking really worth it? I mean, I can get on the internet and jack off to some porn and not get in trouble.
At least Cathy and I were in the same ballpark age-wise. Yes, I was still older than her. We had never talked ages, but I figured her in her early to mid-forties. She still had a smoking hot body and knew how to use it. Hey, we had been having fun for two years. I needed to stay in my own age league, I told myself. Then, now she comes up revealing one of her fantasies, age play or Daddy/daughter or whatever that I had never even thought of or heard about, yet it seems too big a thing anymore. I had to admit, looking at some of those pictures of forty-something ladies dressed as schoolgirls really made my cock throb a bit.
Then, I recalled pizza girl the other night. She knew she had caught my attention and knew how to keep it. There was no doubt in my mind that she knew I was watching her ass as she sashayed back to her car. My best thought is she may be legal because she at least has a driver's license. Then, her ending comment as to her days off? That had really left my mind in a quandary.
Now, what to think about Jamie? Yes, I could understand her forgetting her laundry soap. Hey, not a hard thing to do. Then, she knew that I was taking looks down her top at the clothes dryer. She also knew that I wanted to look between her legs, and she would provide me just enough of a view to get me even more worked up. None of that was an accident. Then, to make matters worse (better), we exchanged phone numbers and even email addresses. On the positive note, she was in college and working two jobs, and she seemed like a hard worker and not necessarily looking for a Sugar Daddy.
I got up and went into the kitchen and put some water to boil. Went to the front room and booted my computer up. Walking back into the kitchen, I put the frying pan on the stove. I figured a couple of scrambled eggs and toast, along with a couple of cups of hot tea, would start my day off just about right.
I put the dirty dishes in the sink. Figured I would wash them later.Getting myself another cup of hot tea, I went to check my messages on the computer. I had to admit my junk pile was proving just how popular this old pervert could be. My regular email was basically the norm, and then there were four unopened emails from Cathy. Starting from the oldest and working my way up, I began to read. The usual "how are you?" and "I am really excited about us getting together this weekend" and so forth. Then the last one was in all bold letters and a pretty light blue ink.
"I AM SO EXCITED!!! MY SCHOOLGIRL CLOTHES CAME IN! I COULD NOT WAIT TO TRY THEM ON! YES! YES! YES! I KNOW I AM GOING TO BE SUCH A NAUGHTY SCHOOLGIRL FOR YOU TOMORROW NIGHT. I WILL ADMIT THE SKIRT WAS A BIT SHORTER THAN I HAD THOUGHT. THEN LOOKING AT THE MIRROR IN MY BEDROOM, WHEN I BEND OVER...? GUESS YOU WILL FIND OUT TOMORROW. THEN THE SHEER TOP WAS RATHER TIGHT (BUYING CLOTHES ONLINE ONE DOES NOT ALWAYS KNOW). HOWEVER, I DID MANAGE TO GET THE ONE BUTTON TO SNAP AND TIE THE BOTTOM LIKE I WANTED. WOW, LOOKING IN THE MIRROR I FELT SO NAUGHTY (MAYBE I DESERVE A SPANKING)? THE GIRLS WERE JUST OUT THERE, REALLY STANDING OUT AND READY TO POP. I THINK DADDY IS GOING TO LOVE THAT (WINK WINK). WELL, I HAD BEST GET READY FOR BED.
KISSES,
Cathy"
Yes, she did sound a bit excited, and then she had me a bit excited as well. I sent her a response, basically saying how much I was looking forward to us sharing tomorrow. I stayed on the computer another hour or so, doing some real work. I went back to my email and went through the slow process of DELETE! DELETE! DELETE! A couple of emails caught my eye. One of them was an email from Jamie. The heading read 'Testing One Two'. Opening it up, I read it.
"Hope that I got this right? I really want to Thank You again for loaning me the soap yesterday and then your ear as well. Sorry to have been such a pest like that, then I really appreciate your patience there. Also, I feel I need to make it up to you. I can clean house and am not too bad of a cook, I am told. Anyhow, once I know my work schedule, I will get back with you, and I will not take no for an answer.
Hope your afternoon went well.
Jamie"
Well, I now knew that her last name was McDougal, as her email address had come in. I typed it in and basically made her my "friend," and future emails would not go to the spam anymore. I would think a bit on the reply. Then my mind went to the "Merry Maids" they had here in town for a while. You could hire them to clean your place, and they would do all the house cleaning topless, short skirt, heels, and such. The religious zealots eventually put enough pressure on City Hall to have them shut down. Get your mind out of the gutter! I told myself.
My stomach gave me a slight growl. Geesh! I thought to myself. It was already after twelve. My sick mischief had burned away the morning. Opening the empty fridge, I saw almost nothing in there. I knew that I needed to go to the store and stock up. Well, I did have a few beers in there anyway. I used the last of the lunch meat to throw a sandwich together. I grabbed a beer and sat down and ate and did some thinking. Seemed that lately, I found myself thinking a lot, and it involved females of all ages and some not so nice sex. I cleaned the kitchen, then grabbed two beers and headed up the attic. Then, like the daily train, she was just on time. Same tote bag, same mug, same bikini, and, of course, the same way of getting this old man excited.
She basically started off with the same routine. Although now, I had the "advantage" of using my binoculars to see her even more close up. This time, it looked like she was going through a magazine titled "Eighteen". I had seen that one at the bookstore as well but didn't buy one. Next time, maybe? I told myself.
She seemed to be either a bit short of patience or hornier than usual, as she put the magazine aside and started rubbing on her little titties quicker than usual. Then, who was I to complain? So, I soon found myself undoing my pants and pulling out my already hard cock. Oh, what youth can do to one, I thought. Then, I watched as her hand slowly went down to her bikini bottom, and she began rubbing her cunt through the fabric. With my free hand, I was jerking at my cock and straining my eyes, wanting to see even more. She was pulling her bottom to the side and exposing some of her tiny cunt. I so wanted to see more of that slit and better yet, a view of her fingers going in and out as she fucked herself. Then again, I was not complaining.
I did find myself needing to slow down on pumping my cock, as I knew my climax was nearing, and I so wanted to again share it with the girl across the alley. I could see her go from rubbing up and down her slit to inserting one finger and then what looked like a second one. I could never really tell because when she appeared to get that second finger in, her finger fucking got much more rapid and seemed like more of a blur than anything. Her ass started to gyrate, and her cunt pointing to the air. I knew that her time was nearing, and mine was already here. I couldn't hold on any longer. I started to shoot my cum across the attic floor and then watched as she humped really hard a couple of times and slowly eased herself back into the lounge. We were both trying to catch our breath, and I was proud as to not having dropped the binoculars this time.
I watched as she regained her composure. Saw her pull her bikini bottom into place, and a sudden thought occurred to me as to how I could and would see more of her cunt. She got everything together like she usually did. Then, I trained my binoculars on her ass as she shook it just right as she went back to the house. I grabbed my half-empty warm beer along with the one I had not opened yet and went back downstairs. In the shower, I was trying to better formulate a plan and seeing her cunt spread even better.
Once out of the shower and dried off, I booted my computer up and went back to my emails. There was another one from Cathy and how excited she was and the "countdown" for our "date" tomorrow and more. I responded as to how excited I was as well. I went back to the email from Jamie. I basically told her yes, the email address was correct. That she did not owe me anything, and I did not mind at all listening to her. I seem to have omitted the fact that I was so enjoying ogling at her fine body, though. Signed it away and sent it. Then, I leaned back, and the picture of the "Merry Maids" was dancing in my mind. Yes, a bit far-fetched, then oh well, fantasies are free, are they not?
I threw on a clean shirt and put on my boots. Thought I would go take a walk and get the mail. Leaving my yard, I opted to go the long route. The exercise would not hurt me, and I could look at the house again. Walking in front of the house, I could see where the address on it had not changed. I need to Google it and see if I can learn anything there, I reminded myself. Approaching the mailbox, I saw where the old man was lingering there again. He must be awfully lonely, I told myself. Then, I also knew I was in store for a ten-minute lecture on what he would do to fix the world if he was in charge.
I kindly excused myself and walked back home. Inside, I sorted through the mail, and most of it went into the waste paper basket. I booted my computer, and this time, only three emails. Well, not counting my overflowing spam box, that is. One was from my buddy on the coast, and then one from Cathy and one from Jamie. So, which one do I open first? Well, I took it in the order they came in and opened Jamie's. She was glad that the email went through OK and how happy she was to hear from me. And that in a day or so, she would better know her schedules for next week. Then, she would tell me when she would be coming over so that she may be of service. Closing out the email and shutting the computer down, the word "service" was stuck in my mind. Appeared she was not going to take no for an answer, then what service was she talking about? Yes, I laughed to myself. You can be my "Merry Maid" if you insist. I got up as I needed to go buy groceries.
At the store, I wanted to kick myself in the butt. I had a partial list on the fridge, being held by a magnet. I used to keep a real good list of what I would need and be in and out of the store in no time, as I always shopped the same store and knew their layout. Today, it would take much longer, and then I was in no rush. Here and there, I saw them. Young girls only half dressed. There were even some older, yet fine Ladies in their shorts and showing off tanned legs. Some walked around with more revealing tops than others. Often times, I found myself slowly stripping them mentally. Like I said, I had plenty of time. I soon found myself at the checkout counter and idly chatting with the cashier. She was most likely in her early forties, about Cathy's age, I thought, but not nearly as hot. Pleasant enough and cordial, though. Then, my mind went to tomorrow and the new and different adventures for Cathy and I, and I could get rid of all this nonsense as to younger girls. Well, maybe, I hoped.
Once she had rung up all the items, it came out to nearly $100.00. More than I usually bought, but I was out of groceries, and it did include a case of beer as well. I went to grab my cart, and a pretty young thing stepped in front of it.
"I'll take it for you, Sir."
I ALWAYS took my own cart out. No reason not to, plus a bit of exercise as I would return it to the store as well. Then, like I said, she was a pretty young thing. I let her go first, and I watched her shake her tight, thin ass. I told her which truck was mine, and we both went that way. She again volunteered and started putting the groceries in the bed of my truck.Each time she leaned over to put another bag in the bed, I would watch her "smash" her little breasts against the tailgate. Did the girl across the alley have breasts this big, or were they smaller? I took a five-dollar bill out of my pocket and handed it to her. She tried to refuse, but I insisted. Back to the store she went, and again I watched her go. Yes, I know it was not the smartest thing to do, but I pulled a beer out of the case and got in my truck. On my way home, AGAIN, a lot was on my mind, and most of it was in the gutter.
Once inside, with everything on the kitchen table, I put the bottle of ketchup next to another unopened one. Again, I told myself, "Hey, dummy, start a list and keep it up." Once done, I booted my computer up to visit this "new" world that I was exploring. I answered Cathy's email with a bit of enthusiasm, as the idea of our role-play was becoming more and more appealing to me. I tried to be cordial with Jamie, but I was not really sure what to tell her. I re-read her email about three times, and each time, the same word popped up: "service." After both emails had been sent, I decided to shut the computer down and read a bit. Grabbing a magazine, I turned a few pages and soon found myself asleep.
Waking up, I could see that it was nearly dark. I must have slept a couple of hours, I thought. Looking in the fridge, I took out a package of hamburger meat and again formed a patty. I thought I would cook myself a patty, melt some cheese on it, and use up a bit of the overflowing bottles of ketchup I had on hand. My mind was in conflict as to what time I should go and how I would handle it all. I finally decided on nine; after all, it was not like I would really be breaking the law. Then I was very nervous as well.
Getting out at the Adult Bookstore, they seemed a bit slow. Then it was a Thursday night. Most likely, on weekends and with some people having a bit too much alcohol and getting brave, I imagined their business really picked up. Walking in, the faces were different, but all the old men seemed to be wearing the same type of trench coats. I laughed to myself. Would I soon be arriving and walking up and down these aisles wearing a trench coat as well?
Slowly, I made my way to the magazine section I had been in earlier. Mostly, all the same magazines as the other night, I saw. Then I did find two copies of "Eighteen." You could not see much, as the cellophane wrapper hid their "private" parts, although not leaving much to the imagination. I kept debating as to which one to buy, so I thought I would buy them both to add to my growing collection of pornographic material. I went over and looked at the video section. If you could imagine it, you would find it there, I was learning. People were in leather, others in rope, some in boots, while others in pain. The one thing in common they all had was that it involved some type of sex.
A bit off to the left, I heard a female voice. "Have a good night, Mel. See you tomorrow."
Turning my head in the direction of the voice, I saw the cashier walking out the door. Now behind the cash register was a good-looking college-aged girl. Then I thought my worst nightmare was about to begin. I thought of taking my two magazines back and leaving without making a purchase. Then that would foil my plans. I would have to suck up the embarrassment and go through with it, I thought. I continued to browse the literally hundreds of videos. Many were catching my eye, and I kept thinking, "You can watch this for free on the internet. Why are you buying this?" A weak argument, I found, as I continued to browse.
Then one finally caught my eye, both the title as well as the picture on the cover. 'Too Old For School?' There were two older ladies in obvious schoolgirl uniforms, and the girls' breasts were bulging out much like Cathy had described hers as. There was a penis between their cum-covered faces. I put this with the magazines and slowly walked towards the toy section. My stomach was in butterflies, but I had made a commitment, and I was going to follow through with it.
Looking at the wall behind the counter and into the display cases, I thought there must be well over 100 different vibrators and dildos on display there. All the way from some really small "personalized" ones to some extra-large ones that actually resembled dog cocks and horse cocks as well. Yes, I told myself, a whole different world out there than I had ever realized. I slowly found myself walking up each display case and trying to picture what I needed to buy. Again, I heard the clerk's voice, but this time it was directed at me.
"Anything I can help you with, sir?"
Now my stomach was really getting upset. Looking at her, she was not extra hot. Then she was cute as hell and appeared to have a very fit body on her. Then what was I supposed to say? I just wanted to buy the magazines and video and leave. Then, without thinking, my mouth went to talking.
"Yes, I want to buy a toy for a girl, well, actually a young lady," I found I was correcting myself there.
"Well, any idea as to what she likes? I mean, size-wise or does she prefer a dildo or a vibrator or a combination?"
This girl was determined to embarrass the hell out of me, I thought. "Well, this will be her first toy, and I kind of want to make it a surprise, so I never really asked her."
Laughing, she pointed to the horse-looking dildo cock. "Imagine that may be a bit big for her, but for a beginner, I have a few suggestions."
She took me to one display case and started showing me different ones and explaining a couple of things. We got interrupted once as she went to check out a customer. By now, I realized I was the only one other than her in the store. She went back, and I seemed to be more at ease. I finally opted to buy one of the suggestions she had made. It was not very big. It definitely was smaller than my cock. Then it had some flex to it and was a vibrator as well. She thought it would be a great starting toy. I told her that I would take it. At the checkout register, she spoke again.
"It does not come with batteries. Do you want me to put two batteries in it as well?" I just nodded yes, and then she added, "Would you like a couple of spares in case it dies at just the wrong time?"
I so loved her "wording" of things. Again, I just nodded yes. She got the batteries in place and turned it on and off and on and off. I could see it vibrating in her hand as well as hear its buzz. Then she again reminded me as to the adjustment for the intensity. She started ringing up my purchase and stopped and looked at me again.
"Do you think she will need any lube for when she uses her new 'friend'?" Oh, how I liked the salesclerk and her terminology as well. She must sell a lot of stuff, I thought. I had never given lube a thought, so again, I just shrugged my shoulders. "I think it would be a good idea," she went on. "I will give you a few samples, and she can go from there. So no harm done and no extra cost to you." Squatting, she opened a drawer and pulled out half a dozen packets of lube. She gave me my total, and again, I reached into my wallet and pulled out another hundred-dollar bill. At this rate, I am going to have to find myself a job.
"So, is this going to be a gift for this girl, excuse me, young lady?" she asked. Was she digging for a bit of info there?
I finally managed to mumble something. "Yes, it is going to be a surprise, so I guess you could call it a gift."
"OK, let me package it for you. No cost again." She walked away briefly and then returned with a small paper bag, all bright and glittery. "I assume just the vibrator and extra batteries and lube?" I nodded yes. She just had to add, "I thought so."
She handed me a blank pink card and said, "In case you want to personalize it more." She put everything into a bigger sack and handed it to me. She then added, "Let me give you my card. Should you have ANY question about anything, please feel free to ask me. I've been around this most of my life, my parents own the place, and I am putting myself through college." Another college girl. "Besides, I do get commission on my sales as well. Call the number there." She pointed it out. "Use this extension," and she underlined it. "If I don't answer, leave a message and your number. I am pretty prompt on returning my calls." I saw her name: Kaylee Berg. I wondered if that was her real name or a fake one like all the porn girls on the internet. She was a "natural" salesman. I thanked her and went to my truck.
On my way home, my mind kept repeating, "What the hell am I doing?" I went from a complete law-abiding citizen to now a pervert and more. Soon to be a broke one, I added. Inside the kitchen, I set everything down. Took out the card and grabbed a sharpie. I simply wrote out "enjoy" and put it in the bag along with the other "goodies." I went out the back door and out my backyard door and into the alley. I pulled out my pocket knife and quickly jimmied their back door open. I felt like a friggin' thief. Then I realized a thief with a massive hard-on; this was all a bit exciting to me. I could see that all of the lights were off in the house. Then I knew it must be growing late. I snuck to the lounge chair and placed the package on it. Quickly, I fled and soon I was back in my house, my breath a bit exaggerated and my forehead sweaty. I was mentally exhausted. I stripped down and went directly to bed. Again this morning, I found myself staring up into the ceiling. What the heck was going through my mind? I wondered. I have always enjoyed watching an attractive lady. What "normal" man doesn't? Then now, it was like I was more and more mentally stripping everyone that I saw, especially the younger ones. Then the girl in the adult bookstore last night... What was her name? Kaylee?Well, she didn't come on to me or anything, but still, her answering all of those questions so easily seemed odd. Okay, I told myself, she is the sales clerk there at the store, then her parent's store at that. What kind of sick pervert would put his daughter to work in a porn store?
Then she was cool as a cucumber and at ease, and almost sharing too much at times. Now my mind went back to the bag and the escapade into the neighbor's back yard. What if the cops had caught me? What was I supposed to tell them? That I was sneaking a vibrator into the back yard for the girl that I had been a Peeping Tom with so she could better show me her little cunt? This was all messed up. Then, as well, I was very eager to see what she would do once she saw the shiny bag.
I slowly got up and lumbered into the kitchen. With the water to boil, I started to crack and fry a couple of eggs. A slice of bread in the toaster, and I sat and reached across the table and pulled one of the magazines to me. I was going to tear off the cellophane wrapping, and then a thought occurred to me. Pulling the other one closer, I checked out the dates of their issue. One was for this month, and the other one next month. I never figured out how you can buy an August issue around the first of July. So I opened the older one. Got up, flipped my eggs, grabbed a plate, a cup of hot tea, and toast, and sat down to what was now becoming my morning breakfast viewing.
I would take a bite and then flick through a page or two. What a good way to enjoy breakfast. Man, were some of these young girls hot as hell or what? I kept telling myself. Yes, a lot of them could have actually passed for eighteen. Then some of them a bit younger as well. Then some were obviously in or around their mid-twenties. Then the provocative ways they were dressed and the captions under their pictures made you believe otherwise. I had finally made it to the back page of the magazine and finished up my cold eggs followed with my now cold tea. I put the dishes in the sink and turned the water back to boil. I took the two magazines with me along with the video, placing them on the coffee table. I booted the computer up. Going into the kitchen while it loaded up, I fixed another cup of tea.
Sitting down and looking at my screen, I could see where I had eight emails, well, regular ones that is. Then three of them were from Cathy and one from Jamie. I opened the one from Jamie as to getting that out of the way. Basically, a hi, good morning, and how are you deal. She said where one of her girlfriends had convinced her to work her shift tonight, so that now she would be working a double shift or sixteen hours. Then as to how she could use the extra money as now when school starts back up and how expensive the books are and such. Finishing off with, "I will most likely get back with you late tonight or in the morning." I didn't see any rush to that, so I would respond later.
Opening up the "oldest" email from Cathy, it was kind of what I expected. One would think that she was a four-year-old waiting for Santa to come down the chimney. Or was it waiting for Daddy? Anyhow, in twenty-four hours, "I will be your naughty schoolgirl" and so on. I was a bit excited as to going down this new adventure, but lord, she was excited plus. Then, as she had shared, it had been a fantasy for several years for her now.
The second email was basically the same, and how she couldn't sleep as she was constantly thinking of us tomorrow and so forth. Then the title of the third one really had caught my attention. In big bold letters, "I AM SO SORRY!" A bit nervous, I went and opened it up anyhow. Yes, my heart sank as my hopes went out the window. I guess her sister had been in an automobile accident earlier last evening. Anyhow, she had sustained a broken collarbone along with a couple of cracked ribs. Her sister was to remain in the hospital overnight for observation and so forth. The bottom line was that she would be traveling to watch her sister and take care of her kids for the weekend. Finally, how she was so planning on us having some naughty fun. Would I please give her a rain check?
Darn, as if that wasn't a mega bummer for me as well. My thought was that she was at work and would depart after she got off of work. I went ahead and emailed her, not really knowing what to say other than I was sorry too. First, because of her poor sister's accident (not to mention the timing as well) along with how much I had been anticipating our weekend of exploration and such, and now it was off. Shutting the computer down, I thought, "Damn the bad luck!" Then there was always next weekend. Yes, I was disappointed, and my mind was spinning a bit. I got up and went to the bedroom to lie down for a while.
I wasn't really physically tired, more a case of being mentally exhausted. I could not believe my luck. From what was initially, "Yes, if that is your fantasy, I will try to help it come true," to now really wanting to explore that fetish and more. Next week, I kept telling myself. I dozed off and into a world of very illicit dreams. Waking later, I could feel my hard cock as it throbbed. I turned and looked at the clock. It was a bit past eleven. My, wasn't I getting a lot accomplished today? I thought. Then the thought of the girl across the alley and in how, in less than two hours, I would know just how badly I might have messed up in doing what I did.
The thought did enter my mind that I could sneak back there and "steal" the bag back. Then, would that not be counterproductive to what I was hoping for? If she liked her "gift" and things went according to my plans, she would be happy, and I would be happy. Then, if she didn't like it (highly unlikely, I kept telling myself), she would never know who had sent it, and it would be soon forgotten. So no matter what, time would soon tell all. I went back into the front room and booted up the computer. Pulling the cord, the stairs dropped, and I went into the attic. Once at the shutter, I did not need my binoculars. I could see the bag as just sitting and waiting in the center of her lounge chair. I went back to "look" at my computer again.
I had already received a response from Cathy. I opened it up. It was basically an update of sorts. She was going to work through her lunch hour and leave directly to her sister's hometown at four. How she had already filled up her tank and such and packed a couple of changes of clothing. Ending with: "I have already begun the countdown until next weekend." I left it at that. I would reply later. Then I thought as to responding to Jamie's email. I wrote her back and said the basic Hi and Good Morning. Then I went on to say as to how proud I was of her and her work ethic, but to be careful not to overdo the overtime. That once she got home, to get a good long night of sleep.
I shut the computer down and went out into the backyard. The tool shed needed some arranging, so I did that for a bit. I quickly built up a sweat and decided to quit for the morning. Going back in, I could see where it was twenty of one. I made a quick sandwich and opened up a beer. I was very nervous. I really was so unsure as to what I had gotten myself into. At five before one, I grabbed another beer and headed up the attic. Sitting down, I grabbed the binoculars and got them perfectly focused on the bag I had left her. I could see each individual piece of glitter, so I knew this was about as good as it was going to get. Again, much like clockwork, I saw the back door open, and her coming out with her usual gear in hand.
She was just walking along idly like she normally did. Then, once she looked at the lounge and saw the bag, she stopped and took a step back. Then, like she would find someone, she searched the backyard. This was too much fun! I thought, as her shyness just made me want her more. She put her tote bag and oversized mug down and slowly approached the bag. She hesitantly reached down for the bag, ever so careful, like there might be a rattlesnake inside. Peeking in, and then she looked around again. Her hand went in and pulled out the small velvet carrying bag. She opened it up and pulled out the vibrator. Again, she looked around, cautious as ever. I watched as her hand went to the knob, and she turned it on. Totally surprised, she jumped back, and the vibrator fell onto the lounge chair. She went back to the lounge chair and picked up the vibrator.
Oh, God, was this now getting hot or what? I was now watching her as she ran the vibrator across her small breasts down to her belly and between her legs. She seemed to have turned it off and looked around with a big smile on her face. She went back to investigate the bag and pulled out a couple of samples of lube. She kind of shrugged her shoulders and put them back in the bag. Placing the bag on the side of her lounge chair, she laid back and grabbed her combination dildo/vibrator. I could see her turning the knob and fumbling through the different speeds that it had. All this time, she did it with the same big grin on her face. She pulled up on her bikini top and started running it against one nipple. I thought I could see a bit of growth with them, or perhaps it was just my imagination. Either way, I had already undone my jeans and was stroking my cock. This was going far better than I would have dreamed.
Abruptly (or at least in my mind), she stopped and got up. She walked to her mug and took a long drink. Then I could see where she was getting a bit worked up as she had a light sheen of sweat on her. Well, I had sweat on me as well, so we shared there. I had quit stroking my cock as I was already about to explode. She walked back to her lounge chair and then really blew my mind. She put her mug down as well as the vibrator. Then, with one thumb on each side of her bikini bottom, she began to shimmy them down. Oh, fuck!I told myself. Why hadn't I thought of buying her a vibrator sooner? She just left the bottoms on the floor and went and made herself at home on the lounge chair. She went to rubbing her beautiful cunt and making me even more excited. Reaching over, she grabbed the vibrator, turned it on, and went back to her nipples with it while her other hand rubbed her now exposed cunt. She did not seem to have a single hair on it, so the thought of how old she really was entered my mind again. Then, looking at most things porn anymore, most all the females were shaved, as well as a few males as well.
The vibrator only lasted a couple of minutes on her nipples. Soon, it was making its way down and between her legs. I couldn't touch my cock, I was so ready to explode any second. What appeared to be in a gentle manner, she was rubbing it over her mound and onto her clit. This lasted a minute or so, and she spread her legs. Gawd, I could almost touch her! This was so incredibly hot! With the tip of the vibrator, she tried to slide it in. My angle was not the best in the world, then she seemed to have about an inch, possibly two, and was working it in and out. This girl had no clue as to how sexy she really was. I could really see how much this was turning her on as her body seemed to writhe a bit each time the vibrator entered her tiny cunt. Then she quit and pulled it out.
What had gone wrong? Was she now turned off by what she was doing? The sheen of sweat on her had grown to light beads in a couple of areas. I could tell that her breathing was a bit jagged by watching her rib cage. Such beautiful ribs they were. No, she was not upset or quitting or anything like that. She reached into the bag and took out a small tube of the sample lube. Opening it up, she began to smear some clear lube from the tip to the bottom. This was so erotic. Then she made it even better. She reached out and grabbed her bikini bottom and wiped her hands clean. What a nasty little slut! I thought.
She got comfortable and spread her legs even more. My view just kept on getting better and better. Like she had kind of forgotten, she reached back for the lube and squirted a bit on her cunt lips. Using the vibrator, she spread the lube out. Then she turned it back on and went to working on getting the vibrator in even deeper. In about thirty seconds, I could see where it was half way in or more. Then she sat up and with a big smile nodded her head yes. I was so happy I wanted to clap or better yet kiss the sales clerk at the adult bookstore. She really knew her stuff, and I would have never thought of any of this. I was sitting back as she started to work the vibrator in and out faster and faster, much like she had done with her fingers. Then in maybe a minute of this, her cunt was high into the air, and I knew she was about to explode. So being the good pervert that I am, I exploded as well. Not sure how much cum I sprayed across the floor, but I was totally spent.
I reached back and grabbed my beer can and finished it off with a single gulp. She was on her lounge chair almost like a fish out of water. She was almost flopping around as her orgasm subsided itself. Groping back, I located my other beer. I popped the top and quickly drank about half of it. Gawd, this was so incredibly hot! I just could not believe my luck and how things were going. I just kept staring down at her through the binoculars as I wanked my now soft cock. Then she was far from being out of teasing and super hot tricks. She pulled the vibrator out of what appeared to be a sopping wet cunt and took it to her mouth. I could see her licking it clean like the dutiful slut that she was. She almost put half of it in her mouth, and I could tell by her cheeks that she was really sucking it.
She rolled a bit and found the carrying bag it had come in. She put them both in her "gift" bag along with the lube. She stood up and took what seemed to be a long drink from her mug. She went and picked up her tote bag along with her bikini bottoms and slowly walked to the backdoor. Now I had a most perfect view of her fine ass. Yes, she had a bit of a bubble butt it seemed, and she knew how to shake it ever so nicely. Once she was at the door, she opened it. Turning around, she smiled and waved, and into the house she went.
I grabbed the two empty beer cans and slowly made it to the stairs and down. I put the stair up and walked into the kitchen. Without thinking, I opened the fridge and popped open yet another beer. I could not remember the last time I had cum that good or that hard. Then all from the private show the neighbor across the alley was giving me. I went into the bedroom and stripped and jumped into the shower. This time I took a long cold shower, and it did seem to cool me off a bit. After drying off, I was a bit confused as to what to do.
Again, the private "show" was a bit beyond my highest expectation. Then I was quite sure that it was the shortest, yet the hottest. Still naked, I walked into the front room and booted up the computer. There was another email from Cathy. I would look at it in a few minutes. My spam box was now at over 100. Then I had not cleaned it out in a couple of days. Slowly I went through it all, deleting most of them before thinking of even opening them up. I didn't find anything spectacular as to these emails, as most were for pop-up ads that led you to other adult sites. That finished, I went to reply to Cathy's email. Basically what I expected. I replied to her and finished by saying to drive carefully and let me know when she got to her sister's so I would not have to worry about her.
As I pressed the send button, another email popped up in my "in" box. This one was from Jamie, again. I opened it up. It basically said as to how the lunch hour rush was over and how she had a short break before she had to set up before the diners arrived. Then as to how excited she was being able to work tonight because this being a Friday night and all, she should make some really good tips. Looking at the clock, I could see that it was nearly four. I would respond later.
I got up and got dressed and went to get my mail. Then again, I found myself taking the long way. Of course, the extra exercise didn't hurt any. Approaching the house, I had to think to myself as to the little vixen inside. Would I one day become brave enough and knock on that door? Then it might spoil the ideal setup I now have. I walked by and eventually got to my mailbox. Taking the three pieces of mail, I turned to walk back home. In front of one of the lawns was a middle-aged Lady kneeling and pulling weeds from her grass. We knew each other, but we really didn't. I had never noticed, but she did not seem to have a wedding ring on. Nor had I ever seen a man around either. We made small talk for a while as I made attempts to see down her cleavage. I had best get back home, I told myself.
Walking back into the kitchen, I tossed my mail on the table and grabbed myself a beer. Then I went into the front room and booted my computer up. Now what the heck was I supposed to do? All week I had the build-up as to Cathy and I meeting tonight and doing some new explorations, which was becoming more and more appealing as the week had progressed, not to mention my visit (again) to the adult bookstore and seeing even more Daddy/Daughter and Teacher/schoolgirl stuff. What a filthy secret little world was out there. Then I still did have that one video to view.
Soon the computer came alive, and another email appeared. As to be expected, this one was from Cathy. 'On my way out of town and to my sister's. I will let you know when I get there. You're the greatest! Kisses Cathy.' Well, now I was the greatest, and kisses? Wish she would have been here later tonight, and I could have proven it.. I went on and replied to Jamie's email and how I had my fingers crossed and that she would make a lot of tips tonight.
It was a bit after five, and I was restless and not sure what to do. I sat in my recliner and picked up the other "Eighteen" magazine and went to "reading" it. I took even more time looking through this magazine than I had this morning. Then I actually read the "articles" if you could call them that. Yes, most were laced with incest, and the imagination could easily run wild there. After all, there was "Daddy Taught Me Best". It was the title of a good "journalist" view on how this young girl was introduced to family "fun". Will admit hot reading, then where is the reality factor there?
My stomach was grumbling a bit. I got up and went into the kitchen. Looking at the clock, I could see where it was now almost seven. Really, I spent a couple of hours on "educational" reading, did I not? Then I thought more on the pictures. Where did they find all of these sluts at? Of course, I imagine a lot of them here in the city I live in. Then a lot of them did not seem to be American either. Had read where young porn was now a big thing in Eastern Europe as well as Russia. Then also, there was a fair share of Asians. Looking in the fridge, I quickly found out I did not want to cook. Grabbing a beer and shutting the door, I pulled out my cell phone. I called the local pizza place and returned to the front room. I sat back and tried to relive the "show" this afternoon. Would it not have been great to have recorded it all? I wondered. Then no, that is going too far, I felt, especially if she is really underage. I must have been deep into thought as I heard the doorbell ring. Slowly I got up and made my way through the kitchen.
Opening my door, was it surprise, surprise as to who the delivery girl was? "I was hoping that you would order a pizza tonight."
OK, now how does one respond to that? "Well, not sure what is more appetizing - the tasty pizza or the pretty young Lady that delivers it?" OMG! Had I just said that?She smiled a seductive smile. "Well, it could always be a combination of both, you know?"
How could I argue with that? A bit speechless, I took the pizza and set it on the table. Reaching into my wallet, I pulled out a twenty. Handing it to her, I told her, "Keep the change."
"Thanks, I really appreciate that. Then I have been thinking of a different type of tip the last few days. Since you never called me on my days off." OK, now, how deep am I really getting myself here? "So I am off Sunday. Switching days with another co-worker. It has been a while since I have relaxed at a cookout. HINT! HINT! You got any ideas?"
Bold might have been an understatement here. Then, she was not lacking in confidence either. I was doing my best to be cool, calm, and collected. "Well, I guess that is something I could arrange."
"OK, so how about Sunday around three?"
"Sounds like a date," I told her. Had I just used the word "date"?
She smiled her seductive smile and then moved her lips as if to blow me a kiss. Then, knowing what she was doing, she turned and sashayed back to her car. This girl knew all the ammunition that she had, as well as how to use it. Any normal person would have already shut the door. Then, I stood there, a bit mesmerized with it all. Opening the door to her car, she turned and faced me again. Yes, she knew she had me hook, bait, and sinker.
"By the way, I prefer Mexican beers." She waved, got in her car, and drove off.
Grabbing the pizza, I took it and placed it on the kitchen table. Much like the other night, I opened up the box and took out a slice and looked out into the darkness. Then, this time, things were actually getting darker for me. Much too dark. The pizza was good, but I could barely taste it. What I wanted to taste now was the pizza girl. My thought was that if Cathy had not had to cancel, none of this would be going on. Then, my other thought was, would she really show up on Sunday? So, I guess I would need to buy her some Mexican beer. Then, was she twenty-one? She sure had the confidence of an older person, that was for sure. After finishing off three slices, I put the rest of the pizza in the fridge. My thought going back to everyone likes cold pizza. I needed out of here, I needed some type of relief. Hey, a reality check is exactly what I need, I thought. I stripped and got into the shower.
Looking in the mirror, I knew I was presentable. My jeans were clean, as well as the button-down shirt. Not sure where I was going, I got into my pickup, because I knew exactly where I was going. I pulled in front of the bar and went inside. It was after nine, but the place was getting a bit jamming as the band played. I caught an empty bar stool at the counter and quickly grabbed it. Reaching into my shirt pocket, but before I could take my money out, I heard the beer can being placed down and it sliding towards me. Looking across the counter, I was glad to see that it was her.
"Put your money back, this one is on me." She smiled and walked away.
I knew that this was wrong, but I also knew that she was of age. Well, so was the pizza girl, as well as Jamie. So, what difference does this make? I asked myself. I tried to relax and remain calm. I slowly sipped my beer. Turning around, I watched the dance floor. There were about a half a dozen couples out there. Maybe I need to find a real lady and go out dancing and stuff like that. Much better and safer than all the young stuff I had been lusting after. Then, how different was it with this bartender? I turned around, and already had another beer sitting in front of me. I hadn't ordered it, but I knew where it came from. I pushed the empty to the back of the counter and took a long draw from my fresh beer.
As I was putting my can down, I felt a couple of fingers tapping on my shoulder. Turning around, I heard a voice, "Care to dance?"
Well, I was not much of a dancer, but what could I say? I stood up, took her hand, and we went onto the dance floor. Once the dance was over, she led me to her table. There were two other ladies sitting there, both pretty darn good looking as well. We all made the formal introductions and so forth. I excused myself and went back to my bar stool. Looking around, I could see a few other single ladies. Trying to do the math in my head, there might be more single ladies here than men. What all had I been missing out on? It was just a simple get out and make yourself available, it seemed.
No sooner had I finished draining off my second beer, and my third one was there. I hope she is keeping a bar tab. She must have been reading my mind as she walked up across the counter. "It's on the house."
She smiled a very provocative smile and went back to serving drinks. I came here to relax and gather my thoughts, and all I was doing was continuing to confuse myself. After finishing my third beer, I waved her no more. The last thing I needed right now was to find myself drunk in this den of females. I put a ten on the counter and started to beeline to the door. Almost there, I felt someone tug at the side of my shirt. Turning around, I saw it was her.
"I think you forgot this?" She shoved a folded napkin in my front shirt pocket. Getting a bit on tiptoes, she went up and gave me a nice warm peck on the lips. I just stood there, and she gave me that VERY inviting smile again, then she turned and went back to work.
Getting into my truck, I pulled the napkin out of my pocket. Well, now I knew her name, Shelli. Along with her phone number and her email address as well. What was this world coming to? I thought. What have I been missing out on? I thought on that even harder. Arriving at my house and stripping down, I desperately wanted to go to sleep. Again, my mind was racing. What could I do to clear my mind out and not get hit up on? Going to the bar to relax and think things out had actually backfired on me, I thought. It took a while, but I soon found my sleep.
My cell phone went to ringing. I had forgotten to turn it off. Then, who calls at this time of night? My initial thought was Cathy, and I hoped nothing had gone wrong with her. I had forgotten to check the emails and see if she had arrived safely. The clock said 3:07. Yes, a bit late, no matter what. Fumbling to get my phone to my ear, I finally answered it as calm as one would expect.
"Hello."
"Hi, I hope you weren't asleep?" I am thinking, you build rockets in your spare time? It is after three, yes, most people are asleep at this time. Well, those were my thoughts anyway. "Anyhow, I just got out of the ER, and I don't have a car and nowhere to stay. My boyfriend beat me up again." When does one learn? "Could you possibly come and get me? I am sitting in front of the hospital."
I was trying to do a mental map as to the distance between my house and the hospital. "Give me about twenty, maybe twenty-five minutes, and I will be there. Please be careful."
"Thank you, I am so sorry to bother you, but I do not have anyone else to call."
"Sit tight, I will be there in a bit."
I hung up the phone and quickly got dressed. Backing out of my driveway, turning my lights on, and heading down the street, I was now getting more confused. Tonight was a night for Cathy and I to share. Then, I foolishly ordered a pizza and now had a cookout "date" on Sunday. Still being more foolish, I went to the bar to relax and sort things out, and now have Shelli's number and email address. Then, now at almost 3:30 in the morning, I am off to the hospital to pick up a girl, which I barely know, and who just left the ER because her boyfriend had beaten her again. Life is good, is it not? .....................
To be continued... | Mf, MF, exh, D/d, role | Chapter One | Authors/Blade/View Across the Alley Mf MF exh Dd role.txt |
110,756 | Miranda Mars | Laura's Story - an Interracial Lesbian Romance | You'd think that would hold me for weeks, Laura thought, remembering the four nights of frenzied fucking with Shawn. I must be turning into a sex maniac or something. God, wanting it all the time, wanting every new girl I see. Maybe it's to wipe out my sadness over Yvette.
She felt this way because the first time she saw Jonelle again, after her weekend with Shawn, she felt a sharp pang of lust unlike anything she had ever felt before. God, I want her, she thought. She doesn't look as skinny to me, either. Just delicious.
It was true. Whether Jonelle had put on a few pounds, or Laura was just seeing her with new eyes, Laura couldn't tell. She certainly did not wear revealing clothes. But Laura now detected a modest swelling under Jonelle's dress, suggesting that she wasn't as thin as previously supposed, that she might have small, very small breasts after all. And one day she wore a floral dress with a lace collar and very tight waist that showed she really did have a figure. She just usually took care to hide it under severe, businesslike garments.
But it wasn't so much her body as her whole being that attracted Laura. True, Laura's response was sexual, but she understood that her preferences tended to sexualize her relationships with other beautiful women, even if they started out only as friends. I don't have to fuck her just to be her friend, Laura thought. But I really do, suddenly, want to fuck her.
But coming on to Jonelle was the last thing from Laura's mind. How could I do that? She's so remote, so dignified, so 'unsexual' somehow. Coupled with what Laura by now knew was almost every woman's natural reluctance to accept another woman's advances, she knew she would have no chance.
And yet, having lunch with Jonelle was quickly becoming a torment. Laura would gaze, for example, at the scooped hollow of her throat, the smooth black skin there, so inviting. And the rest of Jonelle's smooth, long neck. And she would get lost in Jonelle's deep black eyes, or feel her pussy fluttering deep inside when she looked at Jonelle's sensual lips.
"Why are you staring at me like that?" Jonelle finally asked. "Did I say something wrong?"
"Oh god, no," Laura assured her, embarrassed. "Just... oh, I don't know. Thinking how beautiful you are, really."
Jonelle looked nervous. "Thanks," she said curtly.
"I don't mean to embarrass you."
"You didn't. I just never... had a woman tell me that. You're really gorgeous yourself, you know. I know you know that. But I would never think to tell you."
Now she smiled. Her smile was just the most perfect, thrilling smile Laura had ever seen. As uncomfortable as it sometimes made her, Laura continued to have lunch with Jonelle. And the more relaxed they grew with one another, the more Laura's desire seemed to grow.
But she controlled herself very well and did nothing to suggest to Jonelle how she felt. She even controlled her frantic need to drink in every bit of Jonelle with her eyes. Instead, she stole furtive glimpses, staring with longing at the nape of her neck, or her beautiful ankle, noticing the modest swell of her shirt, or the white strip of her bra strap under her blouse.
For months Laura had no sex except a few hot, exuberant afternoons with Chanitra, during which they fucked like bunnies. She wanted to lecture the girl on how she had ruined people's lives by destroying Laura's relationship with Yvette, but she refrained. Chanitra was unrepentant, and as energetically lustful as ever. Laura hated herself for being a hypocrite, but her desire for the teenager was as acute as ever.
And it helped her keep her desire for Jonelle under control. But then an opportunity arose that she could not make herself resist, no matter how hard she tried. Jonelle's ten-year-old boy was going away to stay with his father for a week. I must've known this would happen, Laura thought. I just hid it from myself. I didn't want to get too excited.
And yet why was she excited? Even if she got Jonelle alone, in a vulnerable moment, what would she do? Did she think the girl would just fall into her arms? Crying, oh, make love to me, Laura, I've been dying for you to? Preposterous. If anything, Jonelle would probably freeze her with a cutting glance, and go out of her life forever.
So she played it very cautiously, and tried not to get her hopes up. She wasn't pushy. Jonelle's boy Eric left for St. Louis on a Thursday night, and the following day Jonelle looked stricken with loss. Laura took her to lunch.
"He's never been away from me more than a day," Jonelle said, big tears starting to roll down her cheeks.
"He'll be okay," Laura reassured her. "I wonder if you aren't more worried about you than you are about him."
Jonelle smiled. She nodded. "I guess I am. A little."
"Why don't we go out to dinner together tonight," Laura suggested. "To keep your mind off the... empty apartment."
Jonelle beamed. Laura had saved her from a depressing solitude. "Sounds good to me," she smiled.
They had dinner and a couple of drinks, then ended up at Laura's apartment for a nightcap. Laura strenuously resisted any urge she might have to make advances to Jonelle. They had enjoyed one another's company, and she didn't want to ruin it. She also found that she really liked Jonelle and didn't want to risk losing her friendship just because she also wanted her sexually.
But, to Laura's astonishment and excitement, Jonelle did not want to leave.
"I really don't want to go home. Seems so empty," she said.
"You... can stay the night here, if you like," Laura said, trying to remain calm. "Sleep on the sofa. I won't mind."
"Really?"
"Sure."
Laura knew that even if she did, nothing was likely to happen anyway. She had resigned herself to it. Still, the thought of Jonelle spending the night, even on the sofa, made her pulse flutter.
"You know," Jonelle said, "I'd kind of like that. I don't mean to be such a baby, but I get lonely. And I think I kind of drank too much too, you know what I mean? I might not be safe, driving home. You sure you don't mind?"
"Absolutely sure," Laura said. "Just kick off your shoes and relax. Want me to get you a bathrobe?"
Jonelle's smile melted her heart. She went into her bedroom, taking a surreptitious, guilty glance at the double bed, where she wished she were lying entangled with Jonelle right now, then took her best robe out of her closet. She took it to Jonelle, along with some silk pajamas.
"Wow, silk!" Jonelle laughed. "You really know how to treat your guests."
"Nothing but the best. How about another drink, since you don't have to drive?"
"Now there's a good idea. I'll just put these on while you make one."
And I promise not to peek, Laura told herself as she went to the kitchen. She purposely took longer than necessary, to give Jonelle a lot of time to change. I don't want anything to happen, she told herself. Nothing that would give her the wrong idea. Nothing.
And yet, when she returned to the living room carrying the drinks, Jonelle was wearing only the pajama tops and her panties. Her long, black legs were naked, thin but very shapely, and Laura sat the drinks down fast on the coffee table, trying not to look. But Jonelle saw her looking.
"Gosh, you have beautiful legs," she said, trying to cover it up.
"You think so?" Jonelle smiled. "I think they're too skinny. All of me is too skinny."
"All of you is too beautiful," Laura said softly, turning away.
Jonelle looked at her solemnly. "There you go again," she said, not smiling.
Laura had a hard time figuring out what Jonelle meant, or how she felt.
"It's only the truth," she said, again softly, this time staring straight into Jonelle's eyes.
"You really mean it when you say that, don't you."
Laura came over to her. She couldn't help herself. She lifted one hand and ran her finger along Jonelle's incredibly smooth cheek. Their eyes were locked, smoking, murky, throbbing, even though nothing more had been said. Then, suddenly, Laura lost her nerve. She dropped her hand and turned away.
But Jonelle wouldn't let it drop. She reached down her own hand and took Laura's."Why'd you do that?" she asked, in a near-whisper.
Laura smiled. "I... I don't know."
Now Jonelle looked deep into Laura's eyes. "You can tell me. I really like you, Laura. I feel... close to you. You can tell me."
What was she saying? Laura wondered. Does she know I wanted to kiss her? Did she want me to?
Laura's eyes blurred with tears. She squeezed Jonelle's hand, then raised it to her lips. Then she caressed Jonelle's soft cheek again with the backs of her knuckles. Their faces were so close that they either had to kiss or pull back. Jonelle's dark eyes were glowing with deep feeling.
"I wanted to... do this," Laura murmured softly, moving her face forward until her lips brushed Jonelle's, then pressed against Jonelle's mouth.
She kissed Jonelle gently, without passion or insistence, not moving her lips or tongue, just letting their mouths press together, letting their feelings mingle. Jonelle did not pull back for several seconds.
When she did, she didn't seem scandalized, only partially stunned and befuddled.
"Maybe we both had too many drinks," she said softly.
"I'm... sorry. I've never... done that before," Laura lied, blushing genuinely from embarrassment and shame.
But Jonelle's eyes stirred with a fire deep down, one that Laura recognized. Still, she drew further away.
"I'm not used to drinking that much," she said.
"Me either. I hope you can forgive me."
"Nothing to forgive. You just gave in to your feelings, I guess."
"Yes, maybe that was it. I hope you won't feel like you have to leave. I... won't do it again."
"Oh, don't be silly," Jonelle laughed, though they were still uncomfortable with each other.
They made a few more aimless comments, then decided to turn in. Laura brought blankets and a pillow for Jonelle, then went to her own bedroom and shut the door. She sat on her bed and wanted to cry but couldn't. Then, after a while, she took off her clothes and went to bed naked, enjoying the feel of the sheets against her skin and thinking of Jonelle, wearing her silk pajamas in the other room.
Laura didn't think she would get any sleep, but in fact the liquor made her drowsy, and she fell asleep quickly. She didn't know how long she had been asleep when she was awakened by... by someone lifting the covers and getting in the bed next to her. Oh god! she thought, coming quickly awake.
"Jonelle?" she whispered.
"Shhhh. Don't say anything," Jonelle whispered back.
Her arm touched Laura, and Laura realized she wasn't wearing the silk pajamas. The moonlight through her bedroom window made Jonelle's beautiful face partially visible as she moved it closer to Laura's, closer, until their mouths met again. This time their kiss wasn't chaste and passive. Now their mouths curved together, and their naked bodies moved together too.
Laura's tongue slipped into Jonelle's mouth, and Jonelle's tongue met it, coiling and twisting around it, then stabbing back into Laura's mouth. They drank each other, their hands running all over each other's naked bodies, while soft, feverish moans came from deep in their throats as they kissed.
For Laura the bliss was exquisite. She had so longed to hold Jonelle like this that she could feel her heart nearly burst as she ran her hands up and down the girl's naked back, down to Jonelle's small, compact, beautifully-shaped ass. Jonelle didn't want to stop kissing, a feeling Laura recognized, since she knew the girl didn't want to talk, to admit what she was doing.
But finally Laura's mouth slid down her neck, then up again to her ear, then down to her shoulder.
"Oh Jonelle... Jonelle..." she moaned softly, reassuringly, knowing the courage it had taken for Jonelle to come there.
"Don't say anything" Jonelle repeated, half-panting.
Laura kissed her instead, more searchingly, ardently now.
It was dark in Laura's bedroom, but there was enough moonlight coming through the window for Laura to see the girl's stark, shocking beauty. Her hands found Jonelle's very small breasts, swellings really, but with large soft nipples. Her lips descended to them, and she sucked one thick nipple into her mouth, making Jonelle moan and twist excitedly.
"Oh... Laura please..." she panted, almost inaudibly.
"Yes."
"Please."
Laura sucked her other nipple, letting one hand drift down between Jonelle's smooth, warm thighs. Jonelle gasped. Her body was thin but exquisitely lovely, smooth and long, slender but shapely, and Laura kissed her supple midriff, then her belly, very slowly descending between Jonelle's thighs.
Gently but firmly, with her fingers she parted Jonelle's cuntlips and slid her tongue up into the buttery slit of her pussy, drawing it out again and upward so that it ran right across Jonelle's clit.
"Ahhnnn! Oh!" Jonelle cried out more sharply, her body arching and quivering. "Oh god oh please!"
Laura knew she could now give Jonelle something the girl had never experienced before. Sometimes it was hard getting here, getting this far, but once here she could deliver an orgasm that was a magnitude greater than Jonelle thought possible. Carefully, she licked and caressed the girl's wet, beautiful, long pussy until Jonelle was flexing and trembling uncontrollably, soft, unintelligible sounds coming from her throat, her lovely face in the moonlight torn by sexual torment.
When she knew the moment was right, Laura squeezed Jonelle's small buns in her hands and sucked her clit hard, bringing on a sharp, convulsive, stabbing orgasm so quickly that a tiny shriek of shock mingled with shattering ecstasy emerged from deep in Jonelle's chest as she came.
"Angghh... nnmmggnnee! Oh! Oh!"
Laura sucked her harder, and Jonelle went into a long, undulating, moaning convulsion of coming. Her orgasm lasted fifteen or twenty seconds, so long that Laura wondered when it would stop. And then it did, waning as Jonelle's slender body went slack, and her long moans gave way to panting. Laura slid up to embrace her, kissing her face and hugging her tightly.
"God... I didn't know you were going to make me come like that," Jonelle finally gasped, still stunned by the force of her climax. "Nobody ever made me come like that."
"Mmmmm, you were waiting for me to do it," Laura smiled, kissing her more.
Suddenly, now that their first hot coupling had taken place, there was a sudden awkwardness between them. Jonelle realized the full meaning of what she had done, and allowed to be done to her.
"You... you've done that before, haven't you," she said softly, looking down, not at Laura.
"Once," Laura lied.
"More than once."
Laura nodded. "More than once. What made you decide to come in here?"
Two small tears appeared in the bottoms of Jonelle's eyes. It wrenched Laura's heart. She held the girl's head in both hands and kissed them.
"I don't know," Jonelle murmured. "When you... kissed me. I felt all excited. I knew you wanted to... do this. Then, I was laying in there, and suddenly I just got up and took off the pajamas and came in here. I don't know why."
"Are you sorry?"
Jonelle shook her head. "I feel bad that I can't make you come like that."
"You can. Just do what you feel like."
"I never..."
"I know you never," Laura said, kissing Jonelle's mouth ardently. "I can't kiss you enough."
Jonelle cupped both of Laura's perfect breasts in her hands. She dropped her mouth to them and began to suck Laura's nipples. Laura was already aroused from having brought Jonelle to an orgasm minutes earlier, and the girl's mouth on her nipples nearly made her explode. She writhed and whimpered.
"Oh god... yes, Jonelle! Oh yes!" she panted, squirming.
"Laura..."
"Just put your hand there," Laura coached. "On my pussy. And rub hard."
"No, I want to taste you too," Jonelle whispered shyly, sliding down between Laura's thighs.
"Oh! Oh Jesus!" Laura groaned, shuddering, then erupting in a fierce, quick orgasm only seconds after Jonelle's lips touched her pussy. "Auungghhh! Oh!"
Her body arched and shuddered, and she grabbed her own naked breasts and twisted them. When it was over, she could feel another right behind it, if only...
"Oh, honey," she whimpered, panting, "please, do it again, I can come again! Oh... Jonelle, please! Yes! Oh yes!"
Jonelle slipped her tongue up into Laura's pussy, tongue-fucking Laura rapidly. Laura went wild, squirming and whimpering almost hysterically, frantic with lust.
"Oh yes, suck me, suck my clit baby, please, suck it, suck it hard, oh please!"
Jonelle's sensual lips closed over Laura's clit, and Laura quickly exploded again in a devastating orgasm.
"Auunggh! Oh! Nnngggmmmeeee! Oh! Oh!" she moaned, twisting and pumping frantically.
She didn't want to let it go.Her orgasms were never as long as the incredible one Jonelle had had earlier, but they could be sweet and fiercely intense, and this one was all of that, its sharpness heightened by the fact that Jonelle, wonderful, beautiful Jonelle, was giving it to her.
It was the most emotional orgasm she had had in a long time, since her parting with Yvette, or maybe since her first one with Yvette. And Jonelle seemed to feel it just as deeply. When it was over, she embraced Laura and kissed her deeply, passionately.
This only made Laura want her more, want to devour her and consume her, in a way she thought might alarm Jonelle, her lust was so strong. But she had to give in to it. She responded to the girl's passionate kiss eagerly, stroking and caressing Jonelle's beautiful, supple naked body as they kissed, bringing Jonelle to a new fever of urgency.
"Ohhhh . . . ohhhhhhnnnn!" Jonelle moaned, writhing against Laura, coiling her long legs around Laura. "Ohhh god, Laura!"
"Yes . . . oh yes, Jonelle, I want you, I want you."
"Ohhh!"
Again she dropped her mouth to Jonelle's small breasts, filling her mouth with them, sucking the thick black nipples hard, harder than before, bringing tiny mewls of pleasure from deep in Jonelle's throat. When Jonelle began to tremble, Laura knew she was in the grip of another profound sexual rapture. Quickly, she maneuvered Jonelle's thighs open and slid her leg under one of Jonelle's, bringing their two swollen, wet pussies together before Jonelle even knew what was happening.
The sensation, as their cuntlips pressed together, was electrifying.
"Ahhh!" Jonelle gasped, nearly swooning in Laura's arms as Laura began to move her own pelvis, grinding her cunt into Jonelle's, and kissing her with thirsty passion at the same time.
She pushed Jonelle onto her back, then rose up over her, pumping her throbbing pussy into Jonelle's, driving them both into a hot, frenzied delirium of lust. Jonelle gyrated her hips too, meeting Laura's urgent thrusts, panting and moaning, her eyes on fire with sublime passion and need.
It was always such an awkward, strained position, but the rewards were keen. Laura grabbed both of Jonelle's hands with her own, fucking her hard, knowing they were both on the edge.
"Ungghh! Unh! Unh!" she grunted softly, feeling it grip them, feeling the sharp jolts of a shattering orgasm begin to shoot through her straining flesh.
Then, locked groin to groin, they both exploded in sobbing, wailing groans of ecstasy. It was a searing, ravishing climax that stunned them both as their bodies united in a clenching, throbbing flash of killing pleasure.
"Angghh . . . awwonnnngggouuhhhh!" Jonelle moaned, trembling in an agony of bliss as she again entered one of her interminable orgasmic states.
But Laura didn't envy her since she came twice herself during Jonelle's one long orgasm. And since Jonelle was still moaning and flexing, she slid between the girl's thighs and pressed her mouth against Jonelle's pussy, prolonging it still further, and even inspiring an extra spasm or two, until finally Jonelle too was finished.
"Oh Jesus," she whispered softly, almost penitently, against Laura's shoulder. "I've never fucked like this in my life. I've never come more than once."
"Really?"
Jonelle nodded solemnly.
"But you have such long orgasms. God, I'm envious."
"The men who I've . . . you know," Jonelle looked down. "They hate it. I guess it makes them feel used or something. Like I'm just using them to have one of those. But I can't help it. Most of them never made me come anyway."
Laura pulled her down on the bed, kissing her everywhere, overflowing with a deep, aching emotional attachment to Jonelle, something like she had felt long ago with Rina.
"I love your body, and the way you come so hard," she murmured. "I never knew anyone come so hard, so long. I can't believe you've never come more than once at the same time."
"Not until tonight," Jonelle smiled her heartbreakingly sweet smile, kissing Laura back. "But you've already had three or four. How do you do that?"
"Mmmmm, want me to show you?" Laura nuzzled her perfect brown ear.
"When you put our . . . together like that, I just couldn't stop myself. I've never felt that way before. I . . . I just came, I couldn't stop it."
"Why would you want to stop it?"
"It's just so . . . embarrassing. Having a girl make me come like that. Pushing her . . ."
"Pussy?"
Jonelle smiled bashfully. "Yes . . . into mine."
"Want to do it again?"
"Oh, I can't come again."
"Why not?"
"Because . . . I never have."
"Mmmmm, you delicious girl," Laura laughed, pulling her down again on the bed and kissing and caressing her lovely, smooth, lean body, dropping her thirsty lips again to Jonelle's large, soft nipples, sucking one whole tiny breast into her mouth.
"Unhhhh!" Jonelle panted softly. "Oh god, I love it when you do that. You can do it hard. After I had my little boy, they got less sensitive. I like it hard. I can't ever get a man to do it hard enough. They think they're going to hurt me."
"God, I could swallow them," Laura said, suddenly sucking the thick, wet nipple very sharply, then nipping it gently with her teeth.
"Oh!"
"Mmmmm, you like that."
"Oh! God, yes! Hard . . . please, Laura! Harder!"
Laura realized that Jonelle's nipples were very sensitive. You just had to know what to do. She began to suck and bite both of them gently, then harder, until Jonelle was whimpering almost hysterically with fresh need.
"Oh god . . . Laura," she panted. "I . . . I'm going to come oh oh! Oh hard! Please!"
Jonelle's sweet pussy was flowing with juice again, and Laura's fingers found her clit easily. Again she sucked one of Jonelle's small breasts deep into her mouth, sucking it sharply, then releasing it just enough so that she could bite the bulging nipple. At the same instant, she scissored Jonelle's clit between her fingers and yanked it roughly, bringing on an orgasm so fast that Jonelle nearly choked on the uprush of ecstasy.
"Auunngghh! Ohhngggmnnneeeee!" she cried out, her flexing body rising up off the bed, shuddering as fierce spasms of coming throttled her.
Jonelle's back arched, and her whole body quivered as a fierce rapture wrenched her flesh. Her orgasm did not last as long as the two previous ones, but it seemed even more intense. When it released her, she collapsed, crying softly. Laura held her, kissing her tenderly.
"God, I'm really a lesbian," she wept. "I guess I am. I never came like that. Never. You've made me a lesbian."
"Don't be silly," Laura comforted her. "You're not a lesbian. You just like the way I fuck you, that's all."
Jonelle grinned through her tears. "I sure do."
"Want me to do it again?"
"You crazy, lady," Jonelle giggled, lapsing into a kind of speech she had never revealed yet.
"No. I think I'm in love, though," Laura confessed, shocked to hear the words come from her mouth.
The last time she had felt this way was with Rina. She had felt deeply for Yvette, but the complications with Arthur had ruined that. And of course she really did have a deep love for Karen, but one so mixed up with sexual perversion and danger that she didn't really think of it as love.
"Don't say love," Jonelle said, suddenly growing solemn. "Don't."
"Okay. If it bothers you."
"This whole thing bothers me."
Instead of talking any more, Laura kissed her. And she had no trouble turning up the heat again. Jonelle, despite her words and tears, was apparently unable to resist Laura's passion. She moaned and twisted under Laura, whimpering as Laura slid down her body.
This time Laura went more slowly, making love to Jonelle's beautifully-shaped pussy with her tongue, licking and exploring it until Jonelle was moaning and writhing, begging for more. But Laura wanted to torment her. She knew Jonelle couldn't give in to this, to loving it so much, unless she made it unbearably intense.
She tickled Jonelle's swollen clit with her tongue.
"Ohhh! Oh god! Oh Laura!" Jonelle gasped, her pelvis bucking uncontrollably.
"Do you want me to stop?" Laura teased, but seriously.
"Oh! No, please, no. Do it . . . do it harder. Harder!"
"I love your pussy."
"Oh . . . please!"
Again Laura slid her hands under Jonelle's small, firm buns. They were hard and round, like Chanitra's though much smaller, and she dug her fingers into the hard flesh, tonguing Jonelle's sweet, wet pussy at the same time, making Jonelle whinny softly deep in her throat, overcome with urgent lust. Even though Laura wanted to draw it out longer, she knew Jonelle was on the edge, primed for a crushing climax. She couldn't hold back.
"Oh baby . . . oh baby," she panted.
"Ahhh! Oh Laura . . . please, oh please! Fuck me!"Fuck me!" Jonelle cried out, her body straining, arching, quivering uncontrollably.
Laura slid two fingers way up into Jonelle's wet crack and fastened her lips on the girl's clit at the same time, sucking hard. She fucked her hard with the fingers and sucked her clit so sharply that Jonelle's cries of ecstasy disappeared in another high, hysterical whinny of intense rapture.
And this time when she began to come, Laura feared she would black out. Jonelle's silky, lean body stiffened, then erupted in wild quivering as she sank into a bliss so deep and profound that she nearly lost consciousness. A shattering orgasm wrenched her straining body, and hot, tiny squeals of bliss came from deep in her throat as it went on and on.
Her face torn with an agony of pleasure, she groaned and shuddered, bucking her hips and squeezing her own small breasts viciously, coming in fierce, shocking torrents, an orgasm that seemed to Laura to last almost a minute. When it was over, she could barely lift a finger.
Laura slid back up to embrace her, kissing her with great tenderness, bringing her out of a sexual trance so deep that it took a long time to surface from it. Finally, Jonelle blinked and gave Laura a weak but sublime smile.
"If I could come like that, I'd spend my life in bed," Laura whispered.
"You'd have to spend it with me," Jonelle said softly. "Nobody else ever made me come like that."
After a while, she began to make love to Laura in return, starting slowly, with languorous kisses and caresses, then, as Laura became aroused, more passionately. Other women had loved her body, but Laura couldn't remember any who had made love to it with such emotional intensity as Jonelle did.
"Your body is so perfect," she whispered to Laura. "Your breasts are so beautiful. Your nipples are so good in my mouth."
"Ohhhh!" Laura moaned, writhing under her moving lips.
"I'm going to make you come and come, like you did me," she murmured, exploring Laura's naked body with a lavish attention Laura had not experienced from anyone since that afternoon with Yvette in the hotel room, when Yvette had nearly eaten her alive.
And Laura did come and come, giving in totally to Jonelle's loving caresses and experiencing three increasingly sharp orgasms, the last one excruciating in its intensity. She couldn't let it pass without expressing her gratitude, which meant bringing Jonelle to another fierce, rapturous orgasm, before they were both content to sleep the rest of the night through in each other's arms.
Jonelle had had five orgasms in Laura's bed, not really many at all when you considered the marathons that had taken place there, where Laura and Karen or Yvette had come close to thirty apiece. And yet the memory of them seemed to overwhelm Jonelle in the morning. She was mute and withdrawn, and though Laura dearly wanted to fuck her again, she pulled back, still shy but unyielding.
They were still naked, in bed, kissing, but Jonelle was curiously remote.
"I shouldn't have done this," she whispered against Laura's lips.
"I want you. I want you again. I want you now. I want your beautiful body. Please, Jonelle."
"No. It seemed... so, I don't know, okay last night. But now..."
"It's no different."
"I'm embarrassed. I came five times. I never did that before."
"I can make you come five more times before breakfast," Laura murmured, kissing her wonderful brown shoulders, dropping her mouth to Jonelle's thick, puffy nipples, so big for such tiny breasts. But Jonelle took Laura's chin in one hand and drew her head up again. Jonelle's eyes were shiny.
"I can't," she said softly, biting her full lower lip. "I might want to... but I can't. It scares me."
Laura swallowed. "I understand."
"Do you?"
"Yes."
"I have to leave."
"I know. Do you want me to hide my eyes while you dress? So I won't see your body?"
Jonelle gave her a wry smile. "You don't have to. But you make me feel too sexy. It's such a weird feeling. I never felt that way around a girl before."
"You never knew a girl who wanted to rape you before," Laura said. "Until now."
"Maybe you'd better not look, then."
"I'll... go in the kitchen, while you dress," Laura said, sadly. She traced an invisible curve with one fingertip on Jonelle's silky black cheek. "I really... care deeply about you, you know."
"I... care for you too," Jonelle said awkwardly, averting her eyes.
Laura left the bedroom. In a few minutes, Jonelle came out, wearing a robe. She took her clothes from the living room into the bathroom, dressed, then came out.
"So," she said, feigning cheerfulness. "Thanks for letting me stay over."
"My pleasure," Laura said, pointedly. "Jonelle---"
Jonelle put her finger on Laura's lips. "Don't say anything. Don't say anything more. I know how you feel."
Jonelle's eyes, though murky with meaning, were evasive.
"I doubt if you do," Laura said softly, watching her leave. | FF, cons, interr, rom | Chapter 45 | Authors/laura/45jonelle.txt |
111,101 | Lazlo Zalezac | Thunder and Lightening | Yawning, Jerry scratched his bare belly as he poured water into the coffee maker. Once the pot was empty, he slipped it onto the heater pad and turned on the brewer. Turning away, he wandered over to the cabinet where he had his breakfast foods and looked it over, trying to decide what to cook. He grabbed the pancake mix.
The coffee was finished by the time he had finished preparing the batter. He poured a cup of coffee and sat at the table drinking it. Bill wandered out of his bedroom and poured a cup for himself. Sitting at the table, he yawned and then said, "Good morning."
"Morning," replied Jerry.
The pair of them sat enjoying the first cup of coffee of the morning. Jerry finished his and said, "Time to get started on the pancakes."
Bill yawned before getting up and going over to the cabinet to get the plates. A companionable silence settled on the room as the two of them went through the process of preparing breakfast. Jerry made the pancakes while Bill set the table. Glancing over at the table, Jerry said, "There's three of us now."
"Shit, I forgot," grumbled Bill as he got another table setting.
"Well, it looks like we have someone that can help with the dishes from now on," commented Jerry with a smile. Now that there were three of them in the house, the work could be distributed a little better.
"Right, when pigs fly," replied Bill. He knew the princess wasn't going to do a thing around the house.
"No deadwood allowed in this house," replied Jerry as he stirred the batter.
Looking like a picture out of a fashion magazine, Melissa breezed into the kitchen wearing a pair of pink silk pajamas and a matching silk robe. She froze on seeing her father and Bill, taking in their attire. She shouted, "Gross."
Jerry turned to look at her, trying to figure out what had disturbed her. It was hard not to notice the outfit she was wearing. It probably cost as much as his entire wardrobe. He asked, "What?"
"You guys are in your boxers! That's disgusting," commented the girl.
Bill put a hand on the waist of his boxers and replied, "I can take them off if that would make you feel better."
"Oh God, you are sick," commented Melissa as she frowned at her brother with an expression of disgust on her face.
Jerry and Bill laughed at her reaction. The big man turned back to the pancakes that were finished cooking on the frying pan and piled them on a plate. He poured more batter on the frying pan and, once finished with that, turned to face Melissa. He said, "This is my house and it is run according to my rules."
"And if I choose not to live by your rules?"
"I don't know, but I can tell you that you won't like it," commented the big man. He didn't know what he would do, but he was sure that Sharon could provide lots of ideas.
Melissa said, "You are just going to have to learn how to treat a lady."
"Grow up, Mel. There's no one to impress here," replied Bill.
"There's coffee in the coffee pot," offered Jerry, hoping that once she got some coffee into her, she would be a little less edgy. A stray thought flitted through his mind that she was going to have to learn how to act like a lady before she would get treated like a lady.
She noticed Bill taking a sip of his coffee and frowned. Putting her hand on her hip, she declared, "He's too young to be drinking coffee."
"Why? It's got the same amount of caffeine as a soft drink and none of the sugar," countered Jerry.
Bill smiled and took another sip of his coffee as he watched his sister struggle to come up with something to counter the argument. A half dozen expressions crossed her face before she gave up and went over to the coffeepot. Taking one of the cups from beside the pot, she filled it with coffee. Once her cup was filled, she asked, "Where's the cream?"
"Milk is in the fridge," answered Jerry as he added more pancakes onto the pile already on the plate.
"Milk? Are you kidding?" She turned to look at her father, unable to believe the kind of conditions under which he expected her to live. Her room was the size of the closet she had at her grandmother's house. The house was decrepit and unfit for human occupation. The neighborhood was dangerous.
Bill gave his father a look that conveyed exactly what he thought of his sister. Looking at her, he waved his arms like the robot in Lost in Space as he said, "Warning! Warning! Princess in the room."
"Oh, shut up," retorted Melissa. She took a sip of her coffee and frowned as she realized it wasn't the gourmet coffee that her grandmother served.
"Hey, none of that stuff in this household. You'll act in a respectful manner towards each other," interrupted Jerry. He looked at both kids to make sure that he had their attention and then went back to pouring the last of the batter onto the frying pan.
"So what do you do around here?" asked Melissa.
"Mondays are dad's day off. We have a hot breakfast, work on the car in the morning, and then spend the afternoon doing something together," answered Bill. He wondered if the program was going to change much with Melissa moving into the house.
In a voice that suggested how lame she thought their day would be, she said, "I hope the rest of the week isn't that exciting."
Bill let her sarcasm slide off his back as he replied, "Well, Thursdays are kind of busy."
Jerry came over to the table carrying the plate full of pancakes and set it down on the table. Stepping back, he said, "Breakfast is ready."
He sat at the table and started to load up his plate. Bill followed suit, piling three of the pancakes on his plate. The males of the household were busy putting margarine and syrup on their flapjacks before Melissa had even sat at the table. She stood in place staring at the two of them for a full minute. Finally, she asked, "Aren't you going to wait for me to sit at the table?"
"Why?" asked Jerry as he cut off a piece of the pancake with the edge of his fork.
"Haven't you ever heard of a thing called manners?" asked Melissa. Men were supposed to stand around the table until the woman seated herself.
Bill looked up at his sister and shook his head as he recalled how things had been when he lived with his mother. He wasn't allowed to eat until they both showed up at the table. Usually that meant the food was cold by the time his sister seated herself at the table. He answered, "Lighten up. This is breakfast and I'm going to eat it before it gets cold."
Melissa flounced into her chair and pouted at their treatment of her. This was intolerable. She said, "Pass the pancakes."
"They're right in front of you," observed Bill as he pushed the margarine in her direction. He watched his father push the maple syrup in her direction as well.
"Oh! All right!" she exclaimed as she pulled the plate closer. She raised an eyebrow on seeing the margarine and the fake syrup, but didn't bother to comment. It followed that if they didn't have cream for coffee, they wouldn't use real butter and maple syrup.
Jerry got up and fetched the coffeepot. Returning to the table, he refilled his cup, topped off Bill's cup in response to a nod from the boy, and gestured to Melissa to see if she wanted more. She ignored him as she would a servant. He returned the pot to the brewer and then went back to the table. Sitting down, he took a sip of his coffee before turning his attention to the pancakes.
When Jerry finished his stack of pancakes, he sat back and watched the kids eating. Bill was attacking his food with his normal healthy appetite. Melissa was picking at the pancakes as though she expected to find bugs in them. After taking a sip of his coffee, he asked, "What would you guys like to do this afternoon?"
"How about a movie?" asked Bill.
"Shopping," answered Melissa.
Bill looked over at his sister and replied, "Wednesday we do the grocery shopping."
"I wasn't talking about groceries," replied Melissa.
Jerry said, "That reminds me. Now that you're living here, I guess I'm responsible for setting your allowance. How does twenty a week sound?"
Melissa stared at Jerry as if he had grown horns. She was in absolute shock at the paltry amount of money he had suggested. In a very serious voice, she said, "Add a zero to that and you'll be close to the allowance I've been getting since I was twelve."
Shocked at her attempt to fool his father into giving her a larger allowance, Bill looked at Melissa and said, "Mom was only giving us five dollars a week."
"That was your allowance. My allowance was a hundred and fifty."
"That's not fair," charged Bill as his eyes turned wet. Even though he knew that his mother had treated him horribly, it still shocked him to learn just how inequitable his treatment had been.
"You're a boy and if you needed more, then you should have gone out and earned it. I'm a girl and different rules apply," retorted Melissa.
Jerry had listened to the exchange speechless. He believed her when she said what her allowance had been. There was no way that he was going to give her more money than he took for the week. He said, "This is an equal opportunity household. Everyone gets the same pay for the same work."Right now, the going rate is twenty a week.
Bill smiled as Melissa stared at her father in shock. She asked, "Are you serious?"
"Very," replied Jerry, as he looked her in the eye to let her know just how serious he was about the matter. There was no way she was getting an allowance bigger than that.
She stood up to face Jerry; her arms hung down by her sides with her hands clenched into fists. Her face was livid with raw hatred for Jerry. Picking up her breakfast plate, she threw it at him and stormed out of the room. The plate careened off Jerry's face, hitting him edge-on, to land on the floor where it shattered into three large pieces and several smaller ones. Jerry stood up in surprise and winced when he heard her bedroom door slam.
Bill stood and asked, "Are you okay, dad?"
Rubbing his cheekbone to ease the throbbing, Jerry answered, "I'm fine. The plate hit my cheekbone."
"Dad, she's dangerous," said Bill, remembering how she had treated him in the past. The fact was that she terrified him, and he didn't want to be left in the house alone with her.
Jerry looked down at the floor, taking in the broken plate. When Bill went to pick it up, he said, "Leave it there. She won't eat until she cleans up the mess she made."
"You're asking for trouble," said Bill with a worried look on his face.
"I won't be held hostage by a woman ever again," stated Jerry with grim determination. His face softened as he looked over at Bill and added, "I'll talk to Henry about taking you in for a few days while Melissa and I come to an understanding. I don't think you should be left alone with her."
"I agree one hundred percent on not being alone with her. Can't you put her in a home or something?" asked Bill, staring in the direction of her bedroom door.
"Nope, I can't do that," replied Jerry. He didn't know what the law was about situations in which children assaulted their parents, but he doubted that it worked in the favor of the parents.
After lunch, the pair left the house after trying to get Melissa to clean up the mess she had made in the kitchen. She had refused even after Jerry threatened to leave her in the house while they went to the movies. The discussion had been difficult as she wouldn't open her bedroom door, and Jerry respected her privacy by not charging into her room. The frequent sounds of things hitting the door made Jerry glad that it was closed.
Jerry returned from spending the afternoon at the movies with Bill and his friends. When Woody learned that Melissa had moved in with them, he offered to let Bill spend the night at his house for a couple of nights. Woody's parents didn't have a problem with that, so Jerry had left Bill with Woody. He was confident that the boy was in good hands and far safer than he would have been at home.
Jerry stepped into the house and looked in the kitchen. The broken plate and the remains of her pancakes were still on the floor. Melissa appeared to be in her room, but he wasn't going to open the door to find out for sure. He didn't have to knock, the door flew open as she threw herself at him waving a kitchen knife. It was dumb luck that the knife struck his cast. It was a terrifying minute before he was able to grab the weapon and wrestle it away from her. She continued to attack him. Throwing her across the room, he shouted, "Are you out of your fucking mind?"
She stood up and took a deep breath as she faced him from across the room. Angry, she shouted, "I thought you were one of the niggers come to rape me!"
"What?" He asked his question in an attempt to understand what she was saying.
"A nigger came to the door this morning and asked for Bill. Now that they know a white woman is in the neighborhood, they're gonna rape me. All those niggers want is to rape white girls," she shouted. She had spent the entire day huddled in her room clutching the knife, convinced that a horde of angry blacks was coming to rape her.
"Jesus, you're just like your mother," swore Jerry in disgust.
"Don't try to make me feel better," she countered, not realizing that his comment wasn't a compliment. She spat, "You brought me here just so that you could torture me."
Staring at the floor, Jerry was at a loss concerning what he could do with her. If she had attacked any of the kids in the neighborhood, they'd have killed her. He had no doubts about that. He asked, "What did you tell Abe?"
"Who's Abe?"
"The young man that asked for Bill," answered Jerry, afraid of what he was going to learn.
"I told the nigger to get the hell away from here," she answered. She nodded her head to emphasize just how correctly she had acted.
Jerry said, "He's one of Bill's best friends."
"So?" she asked while looking at him with a puzzled expression. She couldn't imagine that anyone would want a black friend; it just wasn't done. As far as she was concerned, she had done Bill a favor by chasing the boy away.
The complete lack of control over her actions reminded Jerry of Lenny in the book that had bothered Bill and him so much not that long ago. She was going to destroy their dreams and not even know what she was doing until everything came tumbling down around her. He wanted to shake her awake, but knew it would do no good.
Jerry bent down and picked the knife off the floor. It was the largest kitchen knife that they had. Examining the blade, he noticed the drop of red at the very tip of it. He looked down at his cast and saw the puncture through the cast material. He swore, "You stabbed me."
"Well, it was your own fault," she charged. If he hadn't left her there all alone, she wouldn't have had to defend herself. She said, "I'm hungry."
There weren't many things that she could have said that would have surprised Jerry at that point. He said, "You didn't clean up the mess you made in the kitchen."
"I'm not your maid. Get your crack whore girlfriend to clean it up," she replied.
Opening the door, Jerry said, "Come with me."
"No."
"Okay, you can stay here, but you're going to be here all alone when it gets dark."
The threat worked, and Melissa followed her father out to his car. She climbed into the passenger side after realizing that he wasn't going to open the door for her. Once she was in the car, Jerry drove off to the hospital. He didn't know how bad he had been cut. Even if it was a pinprick, the fact that he couldn't clean the wound through the cast concerned him. He had septicemia and pneumonia already this year as a result of getting shot. The last thing he needed was some flesh-eating disease working on him under his cast.
As he drove, he pondered his situation, finding it bleak. In her first full day at the house, she had assaulted him twice. His face under his eye was swollen and had turned an ugly purple color from the plate she had thrown at him. Now he had been stabbed through his cast. He asked, "Aren't you even the least bit upset about having stabbed me?"
"No. Why should I? It was your fault," she replied. She sat in the car with her legs tightly crossed and her arms rigidly folded around her chest. Whenever he made a turn in the car, she fell over. Each time she fell over, she glared at her father for not driving in a suitably smooth manner.
They reached the hospital, and all was going well until he told the admissions nurse that he had been stabbed. Suddenly the police were present, and he was being questioned about the circumstances under which he had been stabbed. When it became clear that Melissa was going to be taken away, Jerry fumbled with his cell phone and called his attorney.
The nurse took him to one of the treatment rooms where they removed the cast to get access to his cut. The cut was a minor puncture that required two stitches to close. As the doctor was stitching him up, his attorney came into the treatment room and said, "They are prepared to take her to juvie for the night, although they are considering sending her to the psycho ward for observation."
"Why?"
"She was verbally abusive to one of the black police officers and appears to have no remorse for her actions."
His brow furrowed as he considered the kinds of things that she would say to a black police officer. Considering the kinds of comments that she had made over the past twenty-four hours, he was sure that her words had been less than acceptable. He asked, "Why weren't you able to get her to shut up?"
"I wasn't there. Her attorney was present during questioning, but she ignored his advice. Apparently, she felt that if she explained the circumstances to a real police officer, they would understand why she stabbed you. Cutting her allowance justified striking you with the plate, and a young black man knocking on the door was a definite threat against her life. She stabbed you because you were endangering her."
Tony felt sorry for Melissa's attorney. He had done everything to protect his client, but she was totally oblivious to what she had confessed. From everything that he had heard, the girl was a sociopath.
Jerry winced as the doctor finished tying off the second stitch. Jerry said, "She's just like her mother. The only one that she is concerned about is herself."
"I knew you were getting a problem, I just didn't realize how much of a problem," said the lawyer.
Jerry watched as the doctor wrapped his wound. Looking up at his attorney, he asked, "What can I do?"
"Not much that you can do. You are responsible for her until she is eighteen. That's another year and a half. I hate to tell you that she's going to cost you a fortune between now and then."
"Why?"
"This little episode will cost you a couple of thousand dollars by the time everything is totaled," replied Tony.
The cast was soon replaced, and Jerry was sent on his way. As he left the treatment area, a policeman and his ex-wife's attorney met him.Looking from one to the other, he didn't like the expressions on their faces. The attorney broke the silence, "I've been fired."
The officer said, "She threatened to kill you if you took her back to your house."
"I'm her father and can't throw her out on the street. I can't move just because she's not happy there," said Jerry.
"We are going to have to take her to the juvenile hall and let a judge figure this one out," stated the cop. He didn't like these kinds of calls. He added, "I know you're her father, but you have to understand that some of these kids really mean these threats against their parents."
Jerry stepped out of Jenny's house wearing his new suit purchased at a chain that specialized in clothes for large and tall men. He felt better about his appearance than ever in his life. It was perfectly tailored. They had even modified the coat so that he could wear it over his cast while still looking sharp.
Jenny locked the door behind him and turned to look at him. Licking her lips, she said, "If we didn't have to pick up your kids and go to the funeral, I'd drag you back into the house and have my way with you."
A large grin crossed his face as he replied, "You'd drag me?"
"Okay, I'd strip naked and entice you back into the house," she teased.
"I wouldn't want you to expose yourself like that to the neighbors. You'd only have to promise to get undressed to entice me back into the house," admitted Jerry with a lecherous grin.
"And why wouldn't you want me to expose myself like that?" she said with a pout and acting as though she were hurt.
Jerry winked as he answered, "All of the old men would have heart attacks from seeing such loveliness and I'd have to fight off the young men wanting to ravish you. It's not that I mind protecting you from those young men, but the idea of all those poor widows just breaks my heart."
Jenny laughed and grabbed his good arm. She pressed her body against him with a sigh and said, "We can't have that."
She took the bag with the black dress for Melissa from him as they made their way to her car. They were taking her car since it would be a little easier for the four of them to get into and out of than his Camaro. Jerry held the door open for her, appreciating the view as her black dress rode up her legs when she entered the car. She caught him looking and smiled when he blushed. She giggled and said, "You're so cute when you blush."
It always unnerved Jerry when she made comments like that. He just shuffled for a moment not knowing how to respond. He realized he looked pretty stupid standing beside the car holding the door open and closed it with a little more energy than he had intended. When he finally settled into the driver's seat, he looked over at Jenny thinking how good she looked. With a sigh, he said, "I don't know why I'm going to this thing."
"You're doing it for your daughter," replied Jenny patiently. They'd had this conversation several times. It bothered her that he wasn't too thrilled about attending the funeral for the sake of his daughter. The idea that he didn't really love his daughter upset her tremendously. Of course, she had been shocked to learn that his daughter had stabbed him and had no remorse about having done it. She loved her dad and couldn't imagine why Jerry's daughter didn't love him.
"I guess."
Jerry started the car and headed to the juvenile facility to reclaim his daughter from the legal system. They were releasing her back into his custody. The judge had accepted her lawyer's argument that she was upset about the death of her grandmother and not entirely in control of herself. The judge had ordered her kept in the juvenile hall until the morning of the funeral as a warning of what she could expect if she didn't learn to control herself and to attend group counseling so that she could come to grips with her grief.
As he drove, he thought about what he could expect for the next year and a half. The future didn't appear very bright. With a frown, he asked, "Could you take in Bill for a couple of days? I really don't trust her to be around him."
"You talk about her as if she is an ax murderer."
Jerry took a deep breath and slowly released it. In a quiet voice, he said, "Don't judge me too harshly, but I think she is a psychopath."
Shocked that a father would say something like that about his own daughter, Jenny stared at him speechless. It was a full minute before she was able to reply, "That's a horrible thing to say about your daughter."
"Never mind," replied Jerry.
The rest of the drive was made in silence, but Jerry kept glancing at Jenny. She stared out the passenger window wondering if she had been mistaken in her assessment about the character of the man beside her. How could a man say such things about his own daughter? The relationship between a father and a daughter was a special one. His words tarnished that relationship for all fathers and daughters.
Jerry pulled into a parking spot outside the facility and turned off the engine. He asked, "Do you want to come in?"
Coming to a decision that she should protect the daughter from the father, she answered in a tight voice, "Of course."
Jerry held the door open for her and watched as she got out of the car. This time, there was no sexy show of legs. Clutching the bag with the black dress for Melissa, Jenny walked beside Jerry without holding his hand. When they reached the door, he held it open for her and she passed through without comment. Jerry watched her walk past thinking that his daughter had just cost him his relationship with the woman he loved. All he wanted to do was run away and cry.
Jenny sat in a chair leaving several empty chairs between her and Jerry. She was fuming at the idea of a father calling his daughter a psychopath. After waiting for ten minutes, Jerry stood and paced around the small waiting room for his daughter. Finally, the door opened and his daughter stepped out. For one second, the two of them just stared at each other. He hadn't seen her without makeup in six years and she had never seen him in a suit. He noticed the black eye and wondered what had happened to her.
He stepped towards her as he said, "Hello, Melissa. What happened to your face?"
Her face contorted as she shouted, "You fucking gorilla. It's all your fault that I was here."
"My fault?" asked Jerry not entirely surprised by her comment.
"You shouldn't have told that bitch of a nurse that you were stabbed."
"But I was stabbed," countered Jerry.
Melissa put her hands on her hips and shouted, "So what? They put me in jail! You should have lied or bribed the judge. Mom is right! You are a poor excuse for a man. A real man would have kept me out of jail."
He stared at her thinking back to that night. She had stabbed him. She had insulted the black police officer. She had ignored the advice of her lawyer and practically forced the police to take her away. Giving up, Jerry said, "I brought a black dress for you. Why don't you go into the ladies room and put it on?"
"So you brought a black dress for me to wear. Oh my, I'm speechless. Why would I want to wear a black dress?"
Melissa hated wearing black. With her pale features, black clothes made her look like a Goth girl and, as far as she was concerned, nobody that had any taste wanted to be seen looking like that. Besides, black was such a depressing color.
"To go to your grandmother's funeral?"
Jenny had watched the exchange in shock at the behavior of the daughter. She was willing to give Melissa the benefit of the doubt until the young woman replied, "I'm not going. I'd rather go home and soak in a hot bath."
"It's your grandmother's funeral," said Jerry with an expression on his face that conveyed his dismay at her total lack of any kind of emotional commitment to the woman that had taken care of her for the past year.
"Look, she's dead. She doesn't care if I go or not," she answered looking at him with an expression challenging him to come up with a counter argument. She wasn't kidding about not wanting to go to the funeral.
Unable to control herself, Jenny exclaimed, "I'm so sorry that I doubted you."
Knowing that he would hate himself for what he was about to say, Jerry took a deep breath and then said, "Your mother will be there." | null | Chapter 29 | Authors/Lazlo_Zalezac/TandL/TandL29.txt |
111,393 | Unknown | Yullie and Harel's Story Part I | Yulianna knew very well what walking through this specific corridor would entail. But she had no other option, no choice: it was the only way for her to reach her bedroom. Naked as she was and dripping wet after this long, hot bubble-bath and the even hotter, lovely shower (both of which she had needed badly, after walking through the heavy rain), she had to cross this entire, now heavily-despised corridor - the corridor between the bathroom and her own bedroom, the corridor which goes right next to the room between the bathroom and her bedroom: her little brother Harel's bedroom.
No, she had to fix herself in her mind: Harel was not so little anymore. Highly developed for his age, this eleven-year-old boy was, in fact, a small man - and with raging hormones to match. Somehow, someone (Yulianna had no idea who, but she had a very clear idea as to the nature of the physical and emotional tortures to which she was going to subject him - or her, she had to uncomfortably remind herself - once she'll find them) had allowed this young, hormone-filled 140-centimeter-tall monster practically open access to various kinds of hardcore pornography, with a strong emphasis upon little-brother-raping-big-sister stuff, especially from the early 1980's, where such stuff had still been semi-legal.
It was just as if, she thought, getting herself more and more horrified by the minute, by the second, just as if someone had wanted Harel, her dear little brother of times now long bygone, to become her rapist. As if someone close to her had entered the most secret, darkest quarters of her mind, read all her oppressed, heavily denied desires of being the victim of such an intra-family, incestuous rape - and has been hard at work to make it happen...
She did not wish to think about it; not now, nor ever! She will suppress these thoughts and erase them from her mind, once and for all! She is a strong, 21st-century modern and independent female of sixteen years, who receives the highest marks at all her classes and whose shortish, somewhat boyish haircut and general confident good looks have long since made her the envy of all her feminine classmates and the secretive wet dream of all her masculine ones.
And not just them, either. As Yulianna had now been openly bisexual and flirted freely with any girl and young woman who felt up to the challenge of taking this hot, athletic teenage blonde to bed. This was, in fact, the only time when she would let go of any and all controls and completely submit herself, if her partner just happened to be of the dominating type, to all the later, mostly much elder person's desires.
And, to put it simply: Yulianna just adored it when a control-freak lesbian woman in her late thirties - or even forties, older than her own Mother - would bind her to the bed, or to a pole or a chair or just about anything, wear a gigantic strap-on and shag her, fuck her, screw her senseless, while beating the hell out of her in the process... as this sixteen-year-old blonde has always been a complete masochist, though already a very long time ago, she swore that she would never allow anyone of the opposite sex to know anything about that. Hell, no! All her relationships with boys must have her as the dominant type and as the dictating party, with her admiring lover gently crawling at her feet and worshipping her toes. Always and without any exception, ever.
Well, enough procrastinating! She had to get out of this bathroom and to her bedroom, and she had to do it now.
Shivering slightly, the stark-naked, frightened young female had exited the bathroom and started walking along the mortifying corridor, straight towards her own door -
But she did not reach her own door.
A small body, as naked as her own but most definitely not as clean, pressed against her and pressed her against the wall.
"Hi Yullie," said Harel, his hard, erected member pressed hard against her thigh, "wassup?"
She wriggled to get free from him, but failed: small though he might have been, this kid was a judo-champion third year running and highly versed in jiu-jitsu, too; he loved lifting weights for fun, and already at his young age, was a small cluster of massive muscle-force. She gave up pretty fast.
Unable to reach her lips yet, he kissed one of her small, yet well-proportioned breasts instead. "Hmmm, yummy!" he exclaimed, laughed gleefully and pressed her hands harder onto the wall. "I'm gonna put a baby into you, big sis!"
This sentence he must have picked up from one of those films, Yullie thought; she knew these all too well, had watched practically all of them during the past couple of years. No!!! She will not surrender to those thoughts, no!!!!
"Well, what have we got here?" Asked Harel menacingly, while staring at her creaming slit, "you ARE getting wet now, hey right now, big sis?"
Yullie blushed crimson. Hell, she thought, what use would it be for her to deny the obvious. "Yes," she was proud for having looked him in the eye while saying this. "Yes, Harel, I am. Your actions make me hot, for you"... and here she crashed down, crying, into this boy - her own younger brother!! - strong, boyish, muscular arms...
And then he kissed her, passionately. And, instinctively and without a single shred of thought, she returned the French kiss and with an extra passion. And his rock-hard little dick was, already, right by the hairy entrance of her hot, now gushing cunt...
And he had entered her body. Her own little brother, her own beloved, eleven-year-old baby-brother, had forced his cock's road straight into her gushing cunt's wet warmness. There was no stopping it now: they had committed incest. | bro-Sis inc bf nc pt rp teen con | Part I | Authors/Incestual_Romance/Yullie and Harel/Yullie and Harel's Story Part I bro-Sis inc bf nc pt rp teen con.txt |
111,395 | null | The Strip-Poker Kids - Chapter Five - Cross-Over | Yonny, Adam, and 'Adi sat in a circle in front of the TV, watching Annie sucking her twin brother's rock-hard member lovingly, while the twins' loving and horny mother knocked on their door. "Three, two, one – drink!" called Adam, and the three children drank at once from the little goblets containing minute amounts of the bottle's enchanted reddish-bordeaux liquid.
And all of a sudden, they found themselves, stark naked as they were, sitting on the dark-blue all-covering floor-carpet in the middle of the twins' small, tastefully and finely decorated bedroom, right in front of Georgio's and his sister's stunned looks. "Who are you?! How did you get here?!??" the twins managed to mumble somehow.
"Our names are Adam, Yonny, and 'Adi," replied Adam. "We are here through the means of using black magic; do not be afraid, we are here because we chose to, simply because we LOVE the two of you!!" And he kissed his younger sister fully on her thin pinkish child-lips, frenching her briefly. "This is my younger sister; like you, we're also into Incest, as well as any other conceivable sex-act. We wish to join you two, and the rest of your family, in love and orgies and... well, much more, whatever else you may be into," mumbled Adam, suddenly remembering that for their newly-acquired pals, the part about driving over and slaughtering young, innocent, and beautiful pedestrians hasn't come along yet. "Ah, c – cool," managed Anna to stutter, still visibly shocked, "well, em... hop in!" and smiling lovingly towards Yonny, in particular, she signaled the three of them to hop onto the bed and crawl next to her and her twin brother. "I love your muscular arms and torso," she told Yonny. "Will you be the first to take my virginity away?" Yonny was speechless, but his young manhood did the talking for him, standing upright and pointing towards the small hand of the well-tanned black-haired girl of his own age, craving his touch. "My sweetest dream and hope, right now, is to be taken, simultaneously, by both you and Yonny," she told her twin, who licked his lips while massaging 'Adi's bare little buttocks forcefully. "I'd love that too... although I'd like to take this little blondie, too, while she eats your cunty and brings you into orgasm"... "Yes!!" exclaimed his sister. "Ho, let's!!"
So, before too long, all five little adolescents were engaging in an intense orgy, at the heart of which were the two young girly girls, who were vigorously licking each other's chest, arms, belly, neck, and cheeks, while frantically massaging each other's back and buttocks, all the while being pumped, over and over again, by the three boys - two of which were their very own brothers!! - as deep as possible and as hard as feasible, into their cunts and buttholes, whose virgin status became officially lost now, as their lust overcame and outpowered every conceivable excusable reservations they might have had prior to this experience. 'Adi screamed a little bit in pain, even agony, as Yonny penetrated her anus, but her tears of pain had soon become ones of pure joy, as Annie started to suck and nibble on her right nipple and Adam began pumping her cunt, before too long filling his younger sister with his incestuous baby-making love-potion.
All the while, Giorgio was pumping his own twin-sister, alternately, in her butt and in her cunt, until flooding her shitting-tube with his own incestuous sperm, his white-dwelling young, but nonetheless fertile genes-carrying cells washing her feces' brown left-overs away from the walls of her young body's darkest compartments and out into the light, as he pulled out of her and cleaned his now-shrinking cock on her bed-sheets, all the while holding 'Adi's sweet elvish face and trying to french her as hard and passionately as he possibly could.
Then, 'Adi decided to move on and went down on Annie, quickly licking her way towards her new girlfriend's sweet, hot, and yearning-with-mad-desire love-tunnel, sinking her girlish little wet tongue as deep as it would go into Annie's yummy cunt, while grinding her little nose right against Annie's hard little clitoris - and the dark-haired thirteen-year-old girly girl had SCREAMED... and brutally, losing all control over her actions, pushed 'Adi's sweet little face as hard and deep into her burning crotch as it could possibly have gone.
And the two young girls were now locked, inside one of the hottest, craziest, and most insanely intense orgasms known to woman - one which ONLY a wild lesbian sex-act could ever induce.
Fifteen minutes later, it was all gone. The five kids were now sitting, stark naked and holding hands, and chatting amiably, when Adam had suddenly thought of something. "Where are your mom and sister?" he asked Giorgio. "They're out of home," said his new friend, "went to Rome for the weekend; why?"
Bewildered, Adam and Yonny exchanged worried glances. "This shouldn't have happened," mouthed Adam to his friend. "What's wrong?" asked Annie. "Oh, nothing you should worry about, love; nothing at all," told her Yonny, kissing her reassuringly, while exchanging an extra-worried glance with 'Adi. "Play along," mouthed his girlfriend, "we'll solve it all, this way or another." But in her heart, 'Adi was, actually, light-years from being so sure and calm.
Right before they had taken the bottled reddish liquid, Adam told them that there could be no changes to the film: that whatever they saw happening would happen again, and the only change there would be that they themselves would be part of it and would thus be able to partake in every action there would be. Meaning, Adam, for example, could be screwing both Annie AND her mommy, but the said mom SHALL enter her children's room at the exact second she was supposed to, neither sooner nor later. But as it was, not only wasn't she coming in to barge in on them having fun and then to join them in it, but she - and her second daughter - were out of town as well??
This could mean anything... including one extremely frightening possibility: that our three protagonists would have no way of ever going back home to their own reality, once they have had enough fun with the fantasy one. It could very possibly be, with the story of the movie so intensely changed, that they were now an integral part of its plot, enslaved to its rules and changes - for good.
Which was also a way of saying another thing: THEY COULD VERY WELL DIE THERE, JUST AS WELL. | null | Chapter Five - Cross-Over | Authors/Incestual_Romance/The Strip-Poker Kids/THE STRIP-POKER KIDS - Chapter Five - Cross-Over.txt |
112,398 | August Moone | August Moone Book 2 Chptr 15 The Ying and Yang of It | You would think that with the full load plus that August had on board, taking on any more would he not think about twice. And you would be wrong. The narly shenanigans he (and Gunther) had been a part of, acquiring and captivating (?) those they had (or had had) definitely had the Nation on their guard and up in arms. Staying put in one place seemed the logical thing to do, for a while anyways.
Gunther, too, needed time to fill up the trailer he toted, it was brand new and he had yet to supply it with the necessary things it required to be functional. The quiet serene life of RV living was okay, but like Gunther, ultimate tranquility of a plot of secure land was more appropriate.
But that was a time to come at a later date.
When not dinking with their rides or RVs, the two men once more stole out to suburbia.
Just a brief visit, to see how those they had previously visited were doing. Home repair guru Jim Gaylor stood masturbating while his son's girlfriend slipped down her plain white panties. She was already topless and Jim's cock was already cumming. There was no sign of the son. The fourteen-year-old lovely delight stood up after sliding her undies to her ankles. She stepped out of them then cocked her pretty blond head, eyeing Mr. G's schlong. She came up to him, pressing her wondrously nude body to him, caressing his balls, rubbing his ass, kissing his slightly hairy chest.
Jim caressed the girl's backside, he being taller than she he was unable to get a caress of what he wanted. The girl began hand humping his cock, she then leaned down and kissed the cock, Jim ogling the girl's nude backside, admiring her perfectly shaped ass.
Jennifer latched onto Jim's manly cock and began engulfing the member like a snake swallowing its prey. Jim rocked on the balls of his feet, guiding his swollen schlong into her mouth, caressing her shoulders with his eyes fluttering uncontrollably.
The sensation of orgasm came, he shot once, twice, three times. Spunk filled the girl's mouth, she swallowed most of it. The rest splashed against the inside of her mouth and then onto her very pretty face. Jim rested against the wall, stemming back the urge to pee.
Jennifer sucked him clean, nuzzled his manly fuzzies, then grinned a devilish grin. She turned and walked the few feet to the bed. Jim admired her ass, it was a nice ass. He had admired it when it was clad-concealed in her tight fitting jeans. He dreamed-fantasized about screwing that ass, jerking off late at night when his son was asleep. He had envied his son, Randy, being able to hold that girl, kiss her, be near her.
Jennifer lay out on the bed, opened her legs and began to frig herself.
Jim slowly pulled away from the bed and scurried over, his legs were rubbery and near lifeless. A lovely poon Jennifer had. Lovely. Simply fucking lovely--to fuck. But before fucking, how's about eating? His dealings of cunnilingus were not great, not since he himself had been a teenager, and then only AFTER the fucking. All that was important to a teenager was to "get it in." to fuck the cunt with the cock, not the fingers or the tongue, the cock. THEN, after the cock was satisfied, and the cum had been cleansed from the funky cock pleasing cock, the tongue could have a go.
Jim nuzzled the teen's snatch, admiring it in the dim light of the room, it was evening type time, where the son Randy was was still not known. Neither Jim nor Jennifer seemed to be missing him...
Jennifer thrashed about on the bed, gripping the covers and arching her back, her young breasts jiggling about enticingly. Jim licked out the girl's cunny making her squirm and dance about horizontally. Suddenly she got vocal, calling out "GOD!" then babbling in "tongues." Her young nude body tightened and Jim drove his tongue deeper into the inflamed mons, nipping her clit and jamming his finger up her corn hole.
Jennifer began to buck and then subside as she submitted to orgasm.
"Son-of-a-bitch!" she moaned. One hand she tweaked pinched her left nipple, her right hand she furiously frigged her cunny, licking the juices off of her fingers thereafter.
Jim's talented tongue lolled about the swollen lips, lapping up the flowing juices. He sat back, fondled his aching cock and then crawled up onto the bed. Jennifer smiled, gripped the covers; her pretty blue eyes bulged as several inches of cunt pleasing tube steak slithered into her pussy.
Back on Lemontree Street. August just had to check in on the lads who had drugged their mother, Anne. Anne wasn't home. The boys were. And they were back to their old shenanigans. This time around it was with their three visiting cousins. And the same shtick as they had done unto their mother--but the mother (Anne) was wise to their plan and foiled them. The cousins didn't have this luxury and were well enough duped--er, drugged.
The cousins were Jessica, Jennele, Jolene.
Jessica was the only blond of her sisters. Super curly and hanging to her shoulders. At fourteen the girl had nothing much going on upstairs, she was a proud member of the Itty-Bitty-Titty-Committee, A-cup kind of girl. There was something there to "latch" onto, to suckle, but not to paw or even hump. She had good hips and a great ass, wore tight jeans or slouched jeans.
Carefully Brad lifted his cousin's arm, letting it drop. The girl lay sprawled out on the sunken living room sofa, totally crashed out. It was near 8 PM, it was nearly damn dark outside, kind of a warm evening. Most of the lights in the house of debauchery were out. Just the adjoining kitchen lights were on.
No sign of "life" from Jessica. Brad tempted fate while Mark stood behind the couch petrified with fear that Jessica would awaken at the wrong time.
But she didn't. Brad squeezed her breasts (or what there was of them) and then gripped her crotch and gave that a good squeeze.
Nothing.
With extreme stealth Brad unzipped and unleashed his schlong. Mark's eyes widened, he seriously feared bad timing. Brad took Jessica's hand and had her grip his dick. His dick was throbbing, tensing up with anticipation. Her eyes didn't even flutter, she was drugged good.
Brad leaned in, his pants to his knees. He took Jessica's hand and had her caress his ass. HIS eyes fluttered. "Oh man!" he mumbled. He looked to his unassured brother, said nothing then inched his prick to Jessica's mouth.
Mark leaned over the country style couch and watched as his brother pumped off into Jessica's mouth. The girl made no indications of any sort to indicate that she was aware of spunk filling her mouth. He laid his cum spewing schlong against the lily white softness of her skin and humped her face, still spewing cum.
With no visible reaction Brad deemed that he could continue. Jessica wore a loose fitting short-short sleeved green knit top. Brad had a bit of trouble getting it off, but he managed. Her dainty bra came off nextly and despite the fact that she had itty bitties he sucked on them.
Jessica slept on soundly.
Mark rubbed himself and by the time his brother was undoing Jessica's jeans he was with his cock out and masturbating against the back of the sofa. Jessica's jeans were pulled down to her ankles and then removed totally. Pink undies. Knit undies with a cottony crotch. Mark looked and already began shooting a bit of cum wad. August and Gunther were hard at this point. Brad fingered the girl's poon as well as his own schlong.
When his young pud was restiffened he worked the girl's undies down, raised her legs and flipped them off. He kept the teen's legs up, looking down to her pussy and asshole.
"Damn!" murmured Mark as he leaned over the sofa. His jeans and underwear he had let fall to his knees, his pre-teen twelve-year-old cock was as stiff as it was going to get, dripping bits of cum as he danced impatiently on his feet.
Brad put the girl's legs down and opened them up. He fingered her pussy. There was reaction, instinct. Her eyes fluttered but she was still under. August brought up his HUD, just in case. If the girl SHOULD awaken during the time her cousin Brad was poking her, he wanted to be quick like a bunny zapping her BACK into an unconscious state of being.
Brad didn't apparently notice the fact that the girl was a virgin. He mounted her and pushed his cock into her. "Fucking-A she's tight!" there was a reason for that. Jessica winced and made a more determined state of awareness. Brad was too much into the groove of humping to worry about it. Jessica merely went through the motions of having her cherry busted and succumbing to a mild state of sexual bliss.
Brad wasn't aware of a "problem" until he had cum and pulled out.
The "blood" freaked him out.
Mark, too.
Mark the most.
"Holy shit!" he shouted.
Brad wasn't so freaked about the blood on Jessica's cunt as he was about the blood on his cock and balls. He quickly grabbed up her panties and wiped his dick off and realized that possibly he had fucked Jessica when she was on her "period." Having a mother and being of an opened mind he was more acutely aware of girls/women having monthly bloody experiences.
He didn't know what it was all about but he knew that something like this took place. It was gross for sure.
What Brad panicked about was the blood on the sofa cushions. Unceremoniously he pushed the unconscious Jessica onto the floor and stared at the cushions, Jessica had lain right on the crease separation of two cushions, thusly soiling the edges of them both, their sides, and down to the bottom seat.
In a panic the boys flew about the house, Mark pulling up his clothes and freaking out. Brad scurried through the kitchen cabinets hunting down various cleaners.
Unfortunately his mom didn't have much in the way of sopping up and making disappear cunny blood stains.He did the best he could, then simply turned the cushion over. Nothing more was done for several seconds, almost a minute. Brad lightly fondled himself, trying to get back in the mood.
August intervened, helping the cause. Doggie-style. Brad lifted Jessica at the hips and began fingering her equally virgin pooter hole. He spit on the hole and then plugged it with his cock. His balls began to slap in rhythm to his humping, he smacked the teen's ass and fucked her backdoor until he creamed.
There was a little more to the discoloration of his bone than he cared for, a bit of blood here, too. August again intervened, "Calm down, it's normal. She was a virgin, pussy, mouth, asshole. You've broken her in. Clean her up, clean yourself, then get your brother fucking her."
Brad accepted the "suggestion" and completed the tasks assigned to him. Mark was not too keen on fucking Jessica, he thought she would bleed some more or something, indicating that he was still freaked.
August let him be, allowing big brother Brad to coerce him. Mark was a no-go. His fright had frightened him, and he was no longer horny (or hard.)
Brad went on to cousin number two. Up in the upper area, the den where he had nailed his mother the day before, lay the other two cousins, crashed out drugged on the same sofa. Jennele and Jolene. Jennele was cute, too cute for her own good. She was naïve, too. Her hair of dark brown was in an ultra feathered fashion, resembling the trends of the late 70s and early 80s. She was flat-chested like her sister Jessica. (but then again she was merely seven years young, too.)
Mark had concerns about Brad's doings involving the young cousin. She was too young. He voiced his concerns but was ignored. Brad slowly undressed the seven-year-old, she wore a green jumpsuit and it was easy. No undershirt, but purple panties. He rendered her nude in no time. A perfect poon. It too was virginal.
Brad licked her, raising her legs and tonguing her corn hole and all the way up the slit of her entrance. His aching, freshly cleaned cock he lay upon the child's cunny and began humping without penetrating. It was good enough, he humped until he came.
Mark now had a strong boner going. He came up to ogle his young cousin, lick his lips and have heavy desire to hump her likewise. Brad lay off to one side masturbating, "Go ahead, bro," said the youth. Mark hesitated, then went down and licked Jennele's snatch, too.
A goodly amount of cum soiled the child's poon, Mark was all kinds of making noise and spewing sperm. It was such a relief as he had never experienced before. He diddled his fingers in the cum and on a power suggestion from August, placed the soiled fingers into the child's mouth.
Brad was all smiles, his brother was a pervert after all.
Nearby was Jolene. She was four. She was dark-haired, very pretty, a shortie strawberry cheesecake dress, pigtails. Brad raised her legs and removed her panties. While Mark held the legs back, Brad licked her cunny, then like he had done unto Jennele, he began humping until soiling her.
Both boys had humped their fill and seemed none too worried about their mother or aunt returning and catching them. (that was because both women were in the City and weren't due back until the morrow.)
The boys rested.
And then…
There was a peck at the door, the side yard patio door.
The boys freaked (again).
The patio door was a full insulated glass door. It was unconcealed, the drapes were drawn but only partially. It was dark outside and no lights from the adjoining neighbor.
Brad quickly dragged the drugged unconscious Jessica up to the den area, Mark grabbed her clothes as well as Brad's. Brad flew into his jeans and then went to see who was pecking.
Mr. Tildon. The next-door neighbor. The nosey "I DO happen to know everything" Mr. Tildon. He was okay, a widower, highly educated, and weird. He knew too much about stuff no one else knew about (or cared.) He was eccentric, something of a know-it-all but not snooty or snuffy about it. He was friendly and freely gave forth bits of wise anecdotes whenever and wherever needed.
He smiled down to the half-clad Brad. "Hello, Bradly," he piped friendly enough.
"Hiya, Mr. T!" Brad pipped back, he hated being called Bradly.
"Uh, I'm sorry to bother at this late eve, but I couldn't help notice as I was star gazing the hemisphere for the elusive Danjur Constellation that you and your brother were having quite a time here."
Brad froze and gulped. Mark's eyes widened and stopped breathing.
"I also happened to notice that you have a slight problem should your mother turn the cushions over." Brad was ready to pass out. He was busted big time.
"May I?" Mr. Tildon smiled and virtually pushed himself into the house. "I know of a way in which you may alleviate the stain you so desperately tried to obliterate."
Brad was speechless. Mark was motionless. Mr. T moved through, clamping his hands together to the stained sofa cushions. He turned them over and noted the stain on the fabric lining beneath the cushions. He mused and made his annoying, "Mmmm-huh, mmmm-huh," and then moved to the kitchen and the refrigerator, then the pantry. Seltzer and Fresca and white wine. Mixed it made a concoction that did indeed obliterate the stain.
With that completed, Mr. Tildon smacked his hands together and looked over his two still non-speaking neighbors.
"Ah! Never to fret, my lads. I'm with you!"
Oh?
"Uh, say, where did you so cleverly deposit the young damsel of desire?" the boys looked to one another, 'Huh?'
"Where'd you put the girl?"
Brad shrugged and gulped and still tried to make sense of what was happening. He nodded to the upper den. Mr. T took a quick look, smiled, rubbed himself and made a satisfying look of approval.
Mr. T, though, was not 100% into girls. His preference lay in laying something else.
Mark grunted but hung on to the sofa, his pud squashed against its front side. His brother's prick buried to the hilt up his ass, but not like it hadn't been there before. Though Tildon looked admiringly on the nude Jessica, his interests lay elsewhere. His own pud slammed nicely up into Brad's backdoor. It was a threeway.
After shooting up into Brad's tight sphincter, he fondled the young Mark until his flaccid peter was "reactivated." He sucked on Mark's pud while Brad fucked the still drugged-out Jessica. Then Mark was buggered by Tildon.
There were no "adventures" on the way back to the RV park, Gunther was silent, August wondered how much the boys would have brought on auction, Jessica and her sisters, too!
Now, On the Road Again…
From the City, they pulled out and began making their way back towards Colorado. The "bonding" issue was still in full swing, August's mind filled to capacity with depravity, depravation, debauchery, diabolical mayhem; the OtherSide, the auction, Gunny Gunther, Anne and her naughty-naughty boys, and his crew.
He was filled to capacity, overflowing capacity. But midway along their trek back to the Centennial State….
Gunther's trailer blew a tire. The trailer went swishing across the lanes and very nearly tipped over. It did a number on the axle and the hitch. Requiring some repair. They had only been on the road a few hours, but a needful rest was ok'd.
It was a nice area and the crew scattered to the great outdoors--doing typical normal things kids do with their clothes on. Repairing the damage to the trailer and the trailer hitch/bumper was going to require a bit more than what August and Gunther had in the way of tools. They assessed the situation and left to make for the nearest town to see what could be done about it.
While they were away, Ara and Charlotte (adult) were making love in August's bed, Alice was in charge of minding the little ones outside. A bright sunny day, nice and warm, birds and ducks, a few pesky insects, the air scented heavily with wildflowers and other delights. The area of the breakdown was just off the road a ways, not a normal pull-out and out into the grass. Mountains were all around at a distance, rolling hills lush with greenery. Flatland. Landscape stretching out for as far as the eye could see--well, as far as the mountains anyways.
(and the rolling lush hills of greenery.)
Ara had just brought Charlotte to orgasm, munching the twat. Charlotte pushed herself back against the wall to finish off her hungry, seething snatch when she looked (happened to look) out the rear side window and noted a small RV pull off the road, steam rising (billowing) from its engine compartment hood.
A tall, dashing man got out, Charlotte pegged him instantly as a geek, a scientist-type geek. He had amazing good looks, a persona of the typical good-looking suburban hunk of the late 70s and early 80s. He didn't look the mechanic type. He raised the hood and stared helplessly into the engine compartment. It was obvious he had no clue. Charlotte at least knew that he had blown a radiator hose.
A woman in her mid 30s eased out of the passenger side, she seemed concerned. A nice looker, strawberry blond (with dark roots). A friendly sort, also having the persona of a typical modern housewife-mom of the Disco era. She wore a light airy blouse with beige slacks, a nice chest, great ass.
Hopping out from the side door of the RV were two kids. The boy was a chubby little peckerwood, not overweight but he could use some exercise. Fresh-faced, happy-go-lucky, spunky. His sister was a couple of years younger or so, dark brown hair, dazzling young face, typically attired in jeans and a shirt.
All three hovered around their illustrious leader.
"Hi, I'm Ted Dawson, this is my wife, Joanne," his smile was intoxicating, incredibly friendly, outgoing personality. Geekoid.He had a warm handshake, and Charlotte had a fleeting image of him naked, "doinking" his wife doggie-style--though she seriously doubted Joanne was the doggie-style kind of girl. (But then again, one could never tell what went on behind closed doors...)
Joanne seemed friendly enough, but she also seemed a little "odd." Charlotte couldn't figure it out and didn't know what to make of it until Joanne introduced the children. When Joanne turned her head, Charlotte saw blinking lights tucked in about the hair at the temple area. They were unseen at the direct line-of-sight, but when turning her head and looking down to the kids, Charlotte saw. 'Of all the times for August to be gone!'
There was another child, too--a skinny, frail child that Charlotte could only assume was a traveling cousin or something. She had flaming red hair and no resemblance at all to the two adults or the two resembling siblings.
"These are our children, Jamie, Vikki, and Harriet."
Jamie was approximately eleven years young, his "sister" about ten or so, and Harriet seemed about eleven. Harriet was all kinds of odd--extremely frail looking, incredibly happy, dazzling blue eyes, ten thousand freckles on her face, a smile that could stretch a mile.
The three were introduced to Kristy, who introduced them to the other children. Integration was in progress. Charlotte took a brief gander at the still billowing engine. A radiator hose had indeed busted; what other problems there were, only August and Gunther could tell.
There was an open invite so the stranded family could have a rest away from their defunct RV. Charlotte felt the strange stirrings of wanting to see Joanne naked. She wanted to eat the woman's pussy, spank her, and then see all the BOYS of August and Charlotte's crew bang her.
My God! She was becoming like August!
Not a lot of information was freely given by Ted; he and the family were just on a little vacation. Despite his outward friendliness, Charlotte detected more. She was, after all, a former reporter; she knew when there was dirt still left to be undug.
Lemonade, apple pie, fudge, lemon bars made a big hit with the newcomers. Joanne was checking out the rather LARGE, inordinate amount of children and only Charlotte, Ara, and Alice as the only adults. She was told of August and Gunther out to the town down the road a ways. But still, five adults and over two dozen children of various ages. It didn't add up.
No explanation was given, though, and Joanne let it be--as did Charlotte. The kids were flying kites, chasing butterflies, chasing each other. It was bliss. It was tranquil. The Dawson kids seemed okay, Harriet seemed flighty and very much enjoyed being with other children. Jamie, too. Vikki, however, lingered close by her father. She had gone out to scamper with the others, but didn't seem to "scamper" all that well.
Charlotte so noted that she, too, had blinking green diode lights tucked back in her hair at the temples. 'August, where the hell are you!?'But yet it was still astounding, marvelous.
"Why, you could fuck anybody anywhere anytime anyhow!"
August concurred. Hollywood stars, presidential daughters, presidential wives, rock stars, country stars, anyone, anybody.
Back in town, dressed, tired, shagged out, sticky, the two finished loading up Gunther's ride with the necessary items they needed. A small school bus rolled by, loaded with young'uns. Melvin Elementary.
Both August and Gunther looked to one and smiled.
"What, 20, 25 kids?"
"Yep, I reckon."
"Eight to ten years?"
"That, too."
"Got your video camera?"
*****
She debated whether or not to tempt fate, she had been (somewhat) schooled in the abilities of the thing, but still it was a little overwhelming. She had never fully used it, she had "learned" by watching. She was only really mildly aware of its abilities and was fully aware of the "troubles" it had caused.
She didn't want to get too "chummy" with the Device, it was dangerous. But, on the other hand, it led way to answering hidden questions. Though the Dawsons were nice enough people, there was something mighty odd about them. Mighty odd. Odd to the point of being annoying.
Charlotte tapped her fingers together, she wondered/worried about August and Gunther, when he/they were gone for any length of time she worried, their "business" often could lead them into unannounced/unforeseen disaster--leaving her stranded.
She determined that she was paranoid. But she had a right to be. Traveling with the likes of August Moone and his new peculiar pal Gunther Tallywick made her that way. What they did, what they ALL did was beyond the scope of anyone's understanding. Perhaps she could play it off as being brainwashed, like Patty Hearst?
(yeah, look how well that turned out...)
She dismissed it. Maybe the blinking diode lights on the temples were some sort of jewelry, a new sort of fashion statement Charlotte wasn't aware of. That was a possibility. Maybe. Possibly. And maybe a used car salesman will give you the honest truth about the "little old lady car."
Only the three "women" of the Dawson family bore the blinking lights, maybe it WAS a fashion statement. If so, why so hidden. Only by quick eyesight and the turn of their heads did Char see. Jamie and his father had no such devices. Charlotte shook her head, she was too much thinking like August, perhaps the man (or possibly the boy) was "controlling" his family.
August's Device was tucked away securely, only Charlotte knew where it was. And she suspected Wendsy knew, and then probably September, but they were the only ones. The Dawson family seemed normal enough, they had integrated with the others; playing, running, flying kites. Charlotte sat inside the mega RV at the table, watching through the tinted window.
"I think there is something about them."
The voice startled Charlotte, she nearly pissed herself. It was Wendsy, the little sneak. Charlotte was only mildly aware of how weird she and her brother were. She didn't want to know the rest.
The calm bizarre girl slid into the seat opposite Charlotte and stared out to the Dawsons. "Any ideas?" Charlotte inquired. Wendsy merely shook her head, she didn't know, not for sure.
"I think they are being controlled," she spoke at length, though.
"Controlled? By who?"
Wendsy paused a moment before answering, "The man, Mr. Dawson."
Charlotte laid odds on that assumption, too. But how, and why?
There were probably the obvious reasons; sex. But why not the boy? That was obvious, too, he was in on it.
"He doesn't seem to have anything like August..." Charlotte drawled, hoping the child with higher insight would give up what she thought.
"He has something."
Duh.
Wendsy sat back, folded her arms and stared at the table. Some kids came into the RV, to use the bathroom, to get a drink, to chill out from the wondrous amount of freedom to play. "We need a dog," quipped someone from the group. Kristy was mum on that, rolling her eyes and slightly blushing. Charlotte had only heard tell about girls having their family furry pet lick their poons, she had not seen it in person. She imagined Kristy butt naked, legs open, and some German Shepherd doing his thing, licking her to orgasm.
Kristy slid into the seat beside Charlotte. She was a darling, lovely brown eyes, a warm face. She was a little sweaty from all the playing, in the hall Tommy and Stacie had hooked up for a "quickie." Stacie had a skirt outfit on, no undies. The skirt came up and she bent over, thusly allowing the ever horny horndog Tommy to plow into her from behind.
Kristy's little non-bio sister came loping in, very sweaty, tired, out of breath, in need of a drink and a good pee. Kristy held her, cuddled her, and seemed to love her more than she did when they were at home.
Charlotte passed the little blond haired wonder her glass of lemonade, the little tyke drank her fill and then snuggled into her big sister. Charlotte returned to checking on the Dawsons.
Extra Curricular Activities
Bus 124, Melvin Elementary, Day Outing to the Country
The bus was not a big one, but it was noisy and blew blue smoke. It was dingy yellow, box-like, and had seen better days. It rumbled down the country road; its passengers unaware of the Dangers following it.
Not a lot of traffic on the two-lane. A tractor in the field to one side, a flock of ducks overhead, clear skies, and moderate temperatures. August fiddled with the hi-tech video camera, prepping it for use. Gunther kept a good distance behind Bus 124, both men had noted Melvin Elementary in town, the bus was loaded with two dozen students, there were merely a few farmhouses out where they were traveling, it was mid-day; so it was assumed the bus was not taking the children home but rather on some outing of some sort.
The bus came to a country dirt lane and turned off. Gunther pulled over on the road he was on and watched the bus rumble down the gravelly road, it would still be easy enough to follow despite the fact that it entered into the only forest in the entire area. Rolling hills, derelict farms, a single road in. Gunther only moved when the dust from the bus had settled.
Half a mile through the woods, around a corner, over a bridge, up a small hill, down a long hill, into a small valley, Bus 124 came to a stop at a small secluded working farm. A sawmill was here along with a flour mill. Eighteen hundred head of dairy cows made their home in the area, as well. It stunk to high heaven, no wonder it was secluded. The scent of the sawmill helped conceal the offensiveness of the cows.
August and Gunther had their doubts. The area was not overly secure for them to do what they wanted. Too many people, access to phones, access roads leading all around, and there even was a helicopter parked nearby.
"On their way back, maybe," suggested August.
"We'll have to fuck with the bus," suggested Gunther.
A good hour and a half later and the kiddies all loaded back onboard the bus, waved goodbye to their new friends (adults and animals alike) and the bus made a huge U-turn and began making a return trip back.
Just at the top of the huge hill in the forest and before the bridge, the bus driver made an impromptu turn. No one seemed to notice, on board were indeed 24 students, most were boys. There was a teacher with a teenage assistant, the assistant principal, and the driver. None of the adults noticed the change in driving route.
The adults only noticed when the bus pulled off the dirt road and began coming up to a dilapidated old woodsy barn. By then it was too late. The driver drove the bus into the barn, the doors were opened. It was a large barn, enough to conceal the bus entirely--although anyone with good specs or binoculars or just good eyes could look through the cracks of the barn and see the big yellow thing.
The doors of the bus opened and a figure came aboard, toting a cattle prod. There was an ear-splitting noise that deafened and virtually blinded everyone. Most of the students fell to the middle of the floor. Most were unable to scream or cry out, the pain was intense.
When slowly the discomfort level decreased, it was quickly realized that something wicked had come into their midst: The driver was standing up, handcuffed to the safety/hand rail by his seat. Up against the handrail at the front of the bus by the door lever opener/closer was the teacher. The assistant principal beside her. Beside the driver just askew and behind him was the teacher's aid/assistant.
Taking front precedence was a tall man, a green wool cap, green army fatigue all-weather jacket, camouflage jeans and hiking boots. Another fellow was clad all in black garb, toting a cattle prod.
"Lemme 'splain something to you all," spoke a gruff voice with no discernible accent. "DON'T FUCK WITH ME!"
His words stung into the hearts, souls, and minds of the young students, the adults and semi-adults as well. The young teacher's aid began to weep, realizing how much trouble they were in. She read the news and was wise.
"DON'T PISS ME OFF, DON'T MAKE ME ANGRY, DO AS YER TOLD, DON'T FUCK WITH ME!" The speaker carried a riding crop, modified so as it was electrified. He smacked it against the ass of the teacher, she wore a beige outfit, knee-length skirt, off-white blouse, beige jacket. She was a blond, firm 38s, firm figure, no-nonsense woman who could fit into the shoes of a professional businesswoman (or drill sergeant) rather than a teacher.
She winced and yelped at the inflicted pain. When the assistant principal made his play, he was zapped with the cattle prod. He could do nothing more than wince and flop about in pain, his hands were handcuffed to the handrail.The cattle prod was pressed against his nads. "Listen to me, motherfucker, 'DON'T do that again!'" the voice was meaningful and warning. The African American VP nodded. He was in his late thirties and was wise enough not to tempt fate more than once during any one particular incident.
"Now then," spoke up the second voice. Both "voices" were concealed by some sort of blurriness. It was like a mask, but none of the bus passengers could make sense of it or come to a consensus on what they saw. Not even the adults.
A video camera was set up. Two, in fact, one of the Voices moved down the aisle and set up the second in the rear. He remained there, wielding the modified riding crop.
"Alrighty now," the First Voice began again, "we're gonna do some things, things you won't like. TOUGH! You will do them or suffer the consequences." He let the cattle prod speak before continuing. "Now, firstly, I want all the BOYS to stand up in the aisle."
There was hesitation. No one knew what this was about. Timidly, though, the lads of the 4th grade class moved to the center aisle.
"Wonderful!" spoke the First. "Now take off your shoes."
This was met with a little more hesitation. So the teacher, Ms. Emma, writhed and wriggled in some diabolical pain and discomfort, wetting herself and virtually drooling as the pain seethed throughout her body. VP Morris caused severe bleeding to his wrists as he fought the high tensile steel cuffs securing him to the handrail.
When order was restored and a sense of calmness came over the passengers, the 14 boys pulled off their shoes. "Hand them to the girls."
The boys complied, most were holding themselves together okay, some were sniveling. This was some serious shit. It was going to get serious in the moments to come.
The First Voice pressed his Pain Stick to Ms. Emma's crotch, then without warning ripped her blouse off, including her bra. Her jacket, too. She was topless, her clothes ripped down to her cuffed wrists. The Pain Stick pressed against her bare breasts. The 37-year-old began to weep, shake her head. She didn't understand, this was not happening--this was not happening.
"BOYS, take OFF your pants."
Everyone's mouths hung agape. "Oh my God!" uttered throughout them all. "You have ten fucking seconds to comply." Ms. Emma and Mr. Morris wriggled, made their wrists bleed, frantically fussed to no avail. Six of the 14 boys shucked their jeans, the rest required a little more coercion.
Of those, two who were in the rear by the Second Voice got their asses tantalized by HIS Pain Stick. Two girls nearby cowered onto the floor in a puddle of urine.
When the boys who had not shucked their clothing as asked continued to wail and not carry out the order, First Voice brought up a handheld object which he activated. ALL the passengers ('cept the Voices) wallowed on the floor, more peeing, screaming, and going into fits of convulsion.
At length ALL the boys now stood in their underwear, three boys wore boxers. A moment to recover, then, "Girls, take the boys' jeans and their shoes, and toss them out the window."
This was met with some awe. "WHAT!?" but there was compliance. The girls seemed more willing to comply than that of the boys. Well, we'll see as this goes on.
"Boys, your shirts. Get 'em off. Hand them to the girls. Girls, toss 'em out the window."
It was done but not easily. There was more weeping. No one understood what this was all about. But soon the boys stood merely in their underwear. No one moved. There were only the whispers of sniveling and a light breeze wafting through the thick pines surrounding the abandoned barn.
"BOYS!" spoke gruffly the First Voice, "take off your underwear."
Not one boy made a move to comply. The command was re-spoken not once but twice. Two boys in the middle hooked their thumbs in their undies but nothing more. One boy in the rear by the Second Voice had his basic briefs going as far down as to expose his lily white ass, but there was no one (of particular) to see it, save for Second Voice.
A boy closest to First Voice was grabbed and wrestled with and jerked out of the bus, he was laid across a decaying hay bale and whipped. The modified cattle prod and then a thin leather strap. The boy's arms were pinned and he was skinned nearly alive.
He was left in a heap, heaving and twitching. First Voice re-entered the bus, the VP cussed him and bitched at him, "If I get my hands on you--" to which the First Voice looked at him sternly. "Then I'll just have to see that you don't have your hands to do that." he said dryly. Morris gulped, he blinked. "What kind of fucking piece of shit are you!?"
Morris suddenly realized the punishment for such outburst, he was kneed in the groin and then the cattle prod came to tenderize his aching black balls. "Fuck with me some more, and I'll shove this (the cattle prod) up your ass, turn it on, then send it on through until it comes out your mouth!" and he meant it, too. VP Morris believed him. He nodded that he now understood and wouldn't bark out of turn.
When First Voice looked upon the passengers, the boys had all slid their underwear off and had handed them to the girls. The girls seeing First Voice looking over them tossed the underwear out the nearest window.
The boys all concealed their naughty bits, their asses were bare but their hands covered their privates. But not for long. The boys were firstly ordered to "Put your hands to your sides!" they did so.
After a long pause, the boys had to turn and face the girl closest to him.
There was dissension among the masses, more sniveling, crying, outbursts, and virtually noncompliance. First Voice exited the bus and placed his boot onto the neck/throat of the young boy still writhing in the hay. All aboard the bus watched in shock and horror and ultimate dismay as the boy choked and gasped for air and then went still.
First Voice reentered the bus, "Face the girls or someone ELSE will be out there."
The thirteen nude boys numbly turned and presented their nakedness to the girls.
"GIRLS, reach out and fondle the boy's wares. Hold their balls, rub their ass, stroke their cocks!"
The student teaching assistant lost it, she passed out. Ms. Emma was close to following her. Morris gulped and watched, closing his eyes, then watching again. All the girls fondled a boy, rubbed his ass, cupped and squeezed his bare balls.
Five of the thirteen boys sprouted hardons. The remaining boys were too terrified to get hard.
"Excellent!" exclaimed the First Voice. "Now, BOYS, I want you to turn and face another boy." the boys did so, "Good, now step up, press your bodies together, put your hands to his ass and rub."
The sniveling slowly ebbed, the girls' eyes all now watched as their counterparts complied with the Voice's direction.
After a minute or so of this with their young hairless chests all heaving and such, the boys were told to turn and face front. They did so. They also had to scoot up and press their nakedness against the ass in front of them. Hands on Hips, too. More sniveling erupted, the assistant teaching aid was awake now, she was close to passing out again.
The boy then had to "reach around" and grab the "willy" of the boy in front, fondle it, play with it, fondle the balls. The boys did so but not overly willingly.
And lastly, the boys had to KISS the ass in front of them. Each cheek and then the "hole."
There was little compliance here, so another boy suffered the indignity of being whipped senseless. Mr. Morris frantically went ballistic, his balls were met harshly with the First Voice's knee, the cattle prod was introduced to the man's nuggets, Ms. Emma was zapped on her bare breasts and her skirt ripped off.
The non-complying boys complied, kissing all the parts mentioned and then they were allowed to sit.
The girls were all kinds of squeamish as the boys had to scoot passed them to sit by the window. | null | Chapter 15 The Ying and Yang of It | Authors/Bootscooter/August Moone Book 2 Chptr 15.txt |
112,406 | null | August Moone | You Came
When she complained, they stopped. She also got doinked. By now, his cock and feet were really tiring, but he felt (and hoped) that the road would eventually lead somewhere!
His mind was filled with all that had happened to him, and as they trudged on down the path, he began to wonder if it was real. He fancied the notion that maybe, perhaps, he was dreaming? But would a dream include all the pain and discomfort?
He didn't mind watching Alice pee, and he was getting used to her pooping. Both she did while standing. She was still demure, still reserved and prim, but the Pixie Dust! Wonderful Stuff! allowed her to be a different sort of person, erasing her fastidious upbringing and demoralizing her into a realm of ungodly doings.
Like pooping while standing. She grunted, groaned, and passed her waste product, leaning forward some, parting her cheeks, legs spread wide, the turds escaping her ass with mighty pushing.
Hunter masturbated while watching her shit. He was more entranced with watching her pee, and was grossed out by watching her crap. But as they went on with their relationship, he got rather used to her pooping and was now getting off on it.
SICK!
They spent the night in a hollow of a tree, and they were once more hungry and thirsty. They had gotten away with dwarves' clothes, but they were itchy and ill-fitting, and were carried instead. They provided comfort for sleeping on but not much else.
There hadn't been proper time for securing any food. He had a short sword, though.
Come the new morn, they walked through a meadow in the forest and caught the smell of a fire, a wood fire from a chimney. That hinted of a home. Hunter raced through his mind; there was the tower he suspected was Rapunzel, but she wasn't home; there was Little Red, the Wolf from the Three Little Pigs, he had Alice misplaced from her Wonderland.
What else was there? What was left?
The Frog King, Cinderella, Hansel & Gretel, Jack and the Beanstalk, and a few others. Fairy tales. That was all. Well, that was all they were supposed to be.
They followed the scent of smoke until coming to a house nestled in the woods. A quaint two-story abode, white picket fence, mailbox, roses, a well, flowers everywhere. It seemed prissy and very female. Surely an abode such as this would look kindly on two orphans?
Peering inside, there was just one room. One BIG room, at one end was the living room, a sofa, two comfy chairs. Pictures of flowers and landscapes on the wall. A big fireplace. Handcrafted end tables.
Center was a dining table, also handcrafted.
Then the kitchen. No appliances, none that were "modern day" in Hunter's world. Hunter saw on the dining table three bowls.
Three bowls?
He tapped on the door.
No one answered.
Anyone home?
He tapped again. And again.
He went around to the rear and tapped on the rear door. A little path led out to the outhouse. There was a stack of wood, an axe, another well, galvanized wash tub, and hung laundry. Hunter quickly ditched his itchy dwarf clothes and selected new sets, they were a little small, but they fit. Some were BIG. There was an odd scent to them that bothered him, too.
Alice smelled FOOD.
There was something familiar coming from within. Hunter tried the door, it wasn't locked. What fairy tale could this be? He peeked inside the kitchen, held his tongue, and then stepped all the way in.
"H-hello!?" he nervously said.
Nothing.
On the handcrafted wooden table were three bowls, one-two-three.
One had slight wisps of steam drifting up. The other two did not.
They looked a little familiar. There was a hint of cinnamon & nutmeg.
Alice was starving. Despite being "blind," she sat at the table and quickly got into noshing on a bowl of porridge. Hunter followed suit.
Only a bit was left in the biggest bowl.
Hunter rested, burped, and Alice went off to sit in one of the chairs. Hunter sat back and tried to think. Two-story house, three bowls, in the forest. There was Little Red, Rapunzel, Hansel and Gretel...
He simply couldn't think.
Oh well.
Alice had sought sleep and was not denied, curled up in the large extra-wide powder blue chair. Hunter crossed the room and warmed himself by the fire. Suddenly he heard singing, it was melodic and close by. Surely such a sweet melodic voice couldn't be a danger, could it?
He hoped not.
He backed up to see out the window when he heard the backdoor opening. Panic overcame him, in a flurry he grabbed Alice and dove into a door under the stairs. His hand clamped tight about her mouth as they huddled in the darkness.
For long enduring minutes, he waited. Then, he tried peeking through the small keyhole. It didn't help much. He saw a mouse hole along the baseboard towards where the stairs were going up. He had to lay on his belly and try there.
He could see someone, just barely. He shook his head to try and get a determination of what he was looking at. Legs. White stockings, black dress-like shoes. A girl. A human girl. She seemed to be dancing or something.
He didn't think she was a woman, too small. But then again, he could be wrong. There was little in this dopey fucked up world that made any sense.
The pair of stockinged legs came his way, he backed up and panic once more set in. But the "person" did not come to the closet door under the stairs but instead went UP the stairs.
Hunter waited and waited until a few minutes after the steps had diminished. He tapped Alice and was about to move out from under the stairs when again he heard a melodic sound of music.
"Son-of-a-bitch!"
The front gate squeaked open and seconds later the front door.
Hunter clutched Alice, in his hands he held a broom. It was some weapon at least. Pressing his ear to the door, he heard a muffled sound of what seemed to be someone ripping a nasty butt blast!
"Oh Papa!" said a female-like voice.
"Fuck this!" Hunter bitched, and he lay back down to peer out the mouse hole. He couldn't see much but heard better. He heard a heavy hand striking the table.
"Son-of-a-bitch!" yelled a deep voice.
"Not again!" added a gruff but female voice.
"Doesn't she ever learn!" commented a younger squeaky voice.
There was stomping, and Hunter saw furry/hairy brown feet coming his way. Moving quickly. Again, they moved up the stairs in quick succession.
Hunter waited a moment and once more grabbed Alice and made for the door. Before hitting the front door, he heard a gut-wrenching scream.
"Stay here," he told Alice, and he struck up the stairs, "like he had good sense," to see what was going on.
What was going on was Papa Bear had Goldilocks down across his lap, spanking her! Hunter (and Alice) were in the home of the Three Bears! (d'uh) Goldie's clothes were off, tattered on the floor, her underpants at her ankles mostly to keep her young ten-year-old legs from flying about so.
THEN, Papa Bear held the girl's legs while the pudgy overstuffed Mama Bear held the girl's arms and shoulders. Baby Bear pulled his little blue trousers down and got up behind Goldie. Then he did so in facto begin putting it to her!
Hunter gulped and held his breath as he stared into the bedroom.
Goldilocks and the Three Bears, was never told to him like this!
Slowly, very fucking slowly, Hunter backed out and away.She was too dazed to make sense of it, and then a girl appeared, naked. She made a grab for Karen and pulled her into the watery wall that shimmered with dazzling greenish light.
"KAREN!" shouted Kristy.
Nakedly, Kristy ran for where her sister had been. The camouflaged man chased after. Wendsy reappeared, and she waved to Kristy, who came abruptly up short at the log, staring, confused, in awe. The sound of the man chasing up propelled her to come a little closer.
'Come on in,' said Wendsy via Mindlink.
Kristy shook off the first hit, but then complied (on her own or otherwise - it wasn't clear which).
The man came up and looked to one side as he saw what he couldn't believe, his Subject disappearing into a mystical wall of water.
Wendsy mulled it over, she looked back up the hill where a small herd of friends were running down the hill. The man looked, too. He gulped and swallowed, and Wendsy nodded her head.
'Just relax,' said Wendsy. She clutched her sister and looked distraught, very distraught. If not confused. Her mind needed a few moments, or minutes, to adjust and take in her new surroundings.
Karen breathed hard and winced from the boob-boo on her noggin.
The stranger lay on the ground by the pool, slowly stirring.
His first clear view was of the naked Wendsy. Then the naked Josh standing by her, then the naked September close by. To his right by the stone steps was Kristy and Karen.
"W-what the hell!?" he exclaimed.
"Hard to explain, but the gist is this is a parallel universe. Welcome."
The man looked to Wendsy. "Parallel--"
"Universe," she said, "Another version of where we were."
"Where--how?" he had a sudden plethora of a jillion questions. None of which made sense.
"Long story," Wendsy said.
The man sat up on his knees, he was in his mid-thirties, dark hair with gray at the temples, he had been wearing a black beret, it was gone now. A tuft of blond was in his thick dark hair. He had a gold tack earring in one ear. A hunter's version of camouflage, including military-style boots with a mesh tongue.
His name was Garson. Garson Gargon.
Kristy looked to him with not so pleasing kind looks. She nestled her chin onto the sniveling Karen, arms wrapped protectively about her. The man looked about the new surroundings.
"H-how do we get out of here?"
"I don't know."
"W-where IS this place?"
"It's a transition--"
"Transition?"
"Yes, a go-between."
"What does that mean?" he couldn't believe he was having a conversation with a naked ten-year-old.
"It means that it is a resting place (she guessed) between our Original World and the Parallel Universe beyond."
"Beyond? Beyond what? Where?"
'You ask too many questions, stop it.'
Again, she didn't know for sure if she had influence or what, but the man shut up and stood.
Kristy reared back, pulling her sister with her.
The man looked to her, he gave off no outside appearance of a threatening or dangerous person. He was calm. He gulped and licked his lips, he stayed as and where he was and said, "I-I'm sorry."
Kristy was taken, she didn't know what to say. That was unheard of. It took her by surprise.
Garson looked about his new surroundings, he was still filled with questions.
"Hey, look!" said September.
Everyone looked (or strained to peek).
In the Imager Pool, it was Hanna on her hands and knees, dress up over her waist, her panties on an ankle. Logan behind her, his pants and underwear at his knees, pounding steadily against her ass, but he wasn't in her; the scene showed his cock riding up her crack, going down between her legs but not in.
Logan's hands were up alongside Hanna's chest, fondling her breasts and very near to busting a nut and sinking his uncovered cock into one of her orifices….
When suddenly the shouts and screams of kids and teens broke their union. Frantically the two horny teens scampered into their clothes, tumbling and falling and desperately not wanting to get caught in a compromising position.
Kristy's eyes bulged, mouth open, face in awe.
"You know them?" Wendsy asked.
Kristy couldn't speak, she nodded. Karen, held close to her big sister, peered as they stood AWAY from the strange man, peered into the pool and exclaimed, "That's Logan and Hanna!"
There were a dozen or so people amassing through the woods, adults and teens alike who had come to the search for the missing sisters. Kristy was still trying to absorb what was going on, how could she be "seeing" where she was?
"Do you want them here?" asked Wendsy.
Kristy looked to the naked ten-year-old with a raised brow.
"You can do that?"
Wendsy nodded that it was so.
"We are in a different place, not magical, not technological, just different, this is a doorway between the worlds."
Hanna and Logan were in a state of dire panic as the seconds ticked by and they fought to keep hidden and act nonchalant.
Kristy shrugged her indifference.
Wendsy looked to her brother. He smiled, held the Stirring Stick, he had learned that placing the stick at the outer edge of the image and holding it firmly in place, the Image remained steady and would not be upset by Wendsy's trudging through the water.
The two stopped short, out of breath and holding hands, eyes wide as a naked ten-year-old stepped through a suddenly appearing wall of water.
'Rub yourself,' Wendsy Minded to him, just to see if he would.
There were hollers and shouts for the missing sisters growing closer and closer, there wasn't a lot of time.
Logan pressed his hand to his still ready-to-fuck erection.
Wendsy looked to Hanna. 'Rub your breasts,' then, 'Rub his cock.'
Compliance! Wendsy was satisfied, she had a Mindlink with the two and could control them. 'Step inside.'
It was some embarrassment to get over firstly, but it didn't last long. Hanna was glad to see Kristy, one of her best friends. Logan was embarrassed, big time - there was Kristy, butt naked.
There was a ten-year-old, butt naked.
Two boys, butt naked.
'Relax!' Wendsy commanded of them all.
The intros were done, Wendsy learned that Logan wanted badly to fuck Kristy. And secondly, he wanted badly to fuck Karen, too!! He firstly wanted to fuck Hanna. Both he and Hanna were trying to play it cool and not let anyone know they were an "item."
And of Hanna?
She was naughty with a male cousin, female cousin, too. A girlfriend she and Kristy knew, too. She also had a minor thing for young boys she babysat for.
Her pussy and asshole were semi-virginal.
Semi?
No cock older than nine had been in her...
She most often sucked on the boys she babysat for. Three boys she sat for, from as young as seven to as old as nine, were doinking her. She was a demure thing, private and caring, reserved, quiet and shy.
But on the other hand, she was as horny and naughty as all get out!
Information of where and how they all were was transferred to their minds, to save time. The embarrassment level was still high, Kristy highly embarrassed 'cause she was naked. Logan embarrassed 'cause he had such a dramatic erection-lust-desire to FUCK; to fuck Kristy, Karen, Hanna (whom he ALMOST nailed); he wanted to fuck Wendsy, too.
Wendsy checked Kristy.
Kristy was mildly interested in Logan. She was mildly curious about little boys, too. She had one sexual experience with a girlfriend of her social group, but just one time. She was an avid masturbator and had been caught at by her step-father who spanked her - just within the last couple of months, too!
Cozy.
Now was the breaking of the ice.
'Just relax,' Wendsy had to convey to them all. Garson, though, needed no coaxing. He seemed, disgruntled, but not in a bad way. He stepped away to a boulder and sat on the floor.
Josh sat back in among some boulders. The cave was not a normal cave, duh! The floor, ceiling, walls, all were a poof-dirt color scheme, er, a yellowish-brown color. All surfaces were smooth. The pool, the Imaging Pool had an upraised eight-inch lip encircling it.
Kristy and Hanna stared at one another, heads bowed, embarrassed. Hanna unaware that she and Logan had been "observed." Logan tried to keep his eyes to himself, or at least off of Kristy's nudity. He focused on Karen who knew him well and happily hugged him, unaware of his sexual fascination for her. She bounded into him and as he sat on the steps to the pool, she happily/eagerly occupied his lap.
He copped a quick feel of her ass.
Wendsy surveyed them all. One by one (w/o the aid of a Device) she lulled them. Putting them at ease so as she could work on them One at a time. She checked her brother and the pool, nothing "stirred" in the Imager. It was green and revealed nothing.
'You seemed overdressed,' Wendsy said to Hanna, 'Take off the dress.'
When she began to comply, Kristy helped and Logan lusted, heavily.
Kristy was prompted to "help" with the removal of her friend's dress. Thereafter the two re-hugged and KISSED. Josh, Garson, Logan, Karen, all stared in awesome awe, Kristy slipped her hands inside Hanna's panties and Logan was "prompted" to undo Karen's pants. Karen was prompted to let him.
Josh and Garson watched in awe.
Logan solely focused on his doings, he lifted Karen's shirt off and smoothed his hands over her bare chest. Kristy was no so "alright" with this and Wendsy had to dink with her mind to make her so. Strangely, Hanna was. She blushed and was a bit embarrassed, realizing that she was being naughty with Kristy, knowing what Logan was doing, in the presence of a naked Josh, September & Wendsy. Wendsy had to dink with her mind, too; but not as much.
To make it easier on Kristy, and Wendsy, Wendsy had Kristy come and complete the undressing of Karen. Kristy DID love her little sister, but their age difference and the fact that Karen was not biologically related put a dent in their buddy-buddy relationship.
Wendsy needed help from September to calm Karen's emotional state.Logan held Karen under the arms while naked big sister Kristy slid the tyke's jeans down and off. She had wet in them pretty good, and it would be a while before she would be putting them back on. Then her panties came down. Kristy caressed her sister's ass.
"Take out his cock," Wendsy Minded Kristy.
Hanna took the brief tour of looking around her new environment. She was a little bashful, and the realism of what was happening began to set in. In some part, she regarded what had happened as something of a dream, as it had happened all so fast that it was difficult to comprehend.
The concept of "parallel universe" wasn't sinking in; she merely thought that she, along with the others present, had dropped into some sort of cave, an underground cave.
Kristy and Logan began to "lose it" as well. Karen, Kristy soon followed. Panic was setting in, realizing they were naked, in compromising positions, in awe, in embarrassment, everything. Wendsy's efforts were unraveling at an alarming rate, and she could not contain them. She called for her brother's help.
*****
Wendsy had a ringing in her ears and severe headache. Her teeth hurt! Josh kept to himself back at the steps, legs closed, but his cock was still hard, and his balls could be seen. Garson remained by himself, too. He seemed despondent. Wendsy had erased his memory of him from her mind, she hoped. From Karen's, too. She didn't know if she did a good job, it was a simple "Forget" command.
Garson seemed depressed, sorrowful. He stayed away from the others.
After a time, Wendsy regained control of herself and then returned to weaving her wills: Kristy hugged her sister and pulled her down in a bending position. Kristy sat on her knees, Karen's head came into Kristy's chest. Logan sat up on his knees, and with Hanna's help, his thrust monster poked at Karen's very virginal poop chute.
Hanna stroked Logan's cock, fondled his balls. Logan was acting mostly on his own, just taking the prompts from the girls. He was willing. Very willing. He took his prick and went up and down Karen's crack, poking at her hole in a dire state NOT to just jam himself into her.
Kristy, Hanna--though both were naughty, nasty, and downright terrible, had minor qualms in concerns with the shenanigans involving Logan's cock and Karen's ass. Wendsy took care of that and put the two into a better frame of mind to "just accept it" and deal with it.
At length, though, Wendsy let Karen off, by having Hanna go down on him instead, sucking him. Josh was called over, and he semi-willingly obeyed the prompt. Timidly/shyly, he concealed his naked cock, but when he got to the gang, he was prompted to "stuff it up Hanna's butt."
Hanna parted a cheek, Kristy parted the other. Josh had never sodomized before, he had never FUCKED before, only his hand and bed. His young pud going up Hanna's ass was glorious, glorious Centurion! Hanna had taken cock there before, from young boys. Josh's schlong was just the right size. He sank into up to the base, after much ado about being in awe about it. His balls cinched up tight, and he was a butt fucker for life!
Garson finally came over, bemused and amused and curious about what was going on. He didn't get too close and kept his distance. He eyed the naked Kristy, Hanna, Karen, and the actions of Josh butt fucking.
Kristy caressed Josh's ass. Logan came off into Hanna's mouth. Kristy stared in awe as the spunk flowed, out of Logan's cock as well as Hanna's mouth. She retched and made a few faces, swallowed some of the sperm but spat out the rest. There was a gleam in her brown eyes, though, cock sucking was in her favor.
Josh got his "nut." He creamed her hole with his young immature jiz, pulled out, and Kristy went down on him, sucking his pud, his balls, and licking Hanna's asshole clean.
Garson about fell over. So did Logan.
'You can join,' Wendsy Minded to Garson.
He looked to her, he DID massage himself, but Wendsy made a detection that something was amiss.
Before she could find out,
'WENDSY!'
"Do you know him?" Wendsy asked as the Imager focused more.
Kristy and Hanna nodded that it was so, as did the naked almost fucked-in-the-butt Karen.
The scene depicted was of the same sparse woods, the Subject was a little boy, about eight. Well dressed, round face, red hair, out of breath, lost. He had been in the search party.
Wendsy looked to her brother, 'What do you think?'
She knew better than to ask, he just gave a simple shrug.
Wendsy rolled her eyes and they made good with securing ONE MORE. Jackie. He was eight.
He had also been "involved" with both his favorite babysitters, Kristy and Hanna. But being with the other folks was a bit much. And then there was the lovely naked Karen. At eight, Jackie was not a child molester or even knew what the term meant, at eight years he really didn't have a boner for young girls.
But, Karen WAS pretty, very pretty, and she often gave cause for his young pud to strengthen and dance in his underwear. But he was satisfied to have been able to suckle Kristy's breasts, to be fondled by her, caressed on the bare ass, and to hump her pussy through her panties. (it was as far as she actually dared to go.)
With Hanna, with dear sweet demure Hanna, Jackie had doinked her up the butt, in the mouth, and in the twat. They had romped in his house naked, they had dashed outside to the backyard to his playhouse in the mid-afternoon butt bare assed naked!
He was in awe, shock; Wendsy, Josh, September, and Karen. Plus another dude (Garson.) And what was more surprising and cause to give him confusion was the lackluster nonchalantness they all were about the blatant nudity.
He could live with it, though. He was whimsical, outgoing, helpful, and loved to go nude. He had no problem taking the prompt from Wendsy, Kristy and Hanna had a hand in his undressing. His little pecker was already stiff. The girls stroked him, caressed his ass and guided him into Karen's mouth.
Then, while Karen slurped on Logan's aching ready-to-suck prong, Jackie entered Karen's backdoor. Karen retched, gagged, sputtered and spat out ALL the goo splashed into her mouth from Logan's cum shooter. Jackie was having a time at buttfucking. He was still in shock and amazed, but was willing to forgo that in order to seek pleasure.
Then, while Logan chilled out, he had to, Josh was allowed to get in on the action, and he got a blowjob from Karen. Kristy guided his cock into the young girl's mouth, and Hanna rubbed his ass, played with his balls, and Jackie continued sodomy.
September got in on the act, coming up behind Hanna. Prompted, Hanna bent over and splayed her cheeks. September entered her, and Kristy lay out on her backside, placing her body under Hanna's, sucking on Hanna's cunt, September's swinging balls.
Josh took a turn into Kristy's pussy before his cock gave out.
September filled Hanna's asshole to capacity, and the on-looking Garson looked as if though he were in some sort of serious torment. He moaned, groaned, and sexually sighed. He shuddered all over and remained fully clothed.
Occasionally Wendsy would have to instill into Karen and Kristy to blot out their encounter with the man from earlier. They all were still blasted by the experience of being in one place and then another.
After a "settling" time, getting used to one another, Garson was privy to watch/observe up close and personal as Jackie got between Karen's legs and entered her. Kristy and Hanna right there to caress his bare humping ass as well as the slightly emotional Karen.
Logan laid into Wendsy, her legs pulled far back, and from her pussy to her asshole he went and managed to cum in both, emptying quite a mess onto her sex as a whole. Both Hanna and Kristy then licked the girl clean. Much to the awe of all those watching, except for September who grinned.
Logan, after his cock was sucked by Kristy and Hanna, entered into Kristy's backdoor. When he had filled it with his love juices, Hanna sucked his balls and licked her best friend's hole clean. Then young Jackie took a turn, screwing both Kristy and Hanna. Josh humped Karen's pussy and then was sodomized by Logan.
September took his turn, banging off into Karen, first, then butt humping Kristy, and languishing a long time into the sweet demure Hanna.
Garson remained completely clothed during the whole ordeal.
At length, he slipped away to the lee side of the cave, er, where the great pale yellow boulders could hide him. The rest of the gang were exhausted (sexually) except for Wendsy. After peeing on Josh's wares and having her cunny licked clean by Logan thereafter, she eased up to where the strange man was.
The man leaned against one of the boulders, his camouflage pants slid down some to expose his ass. There appeared to be no cock, though. Wendsy paused, she careened her neck, and Garson noticed her.
He gulped and seemed embarrassed, frightened. He had a few days' growth of beard, unkempt hair, pale tired eyes. This appearance made him appear mid-thirties. But he was not, cleaned, shaved, trimmed, he was more likely in his mid-20s. Just aged through the progression of time, on his own, and the long enduring recovery of a tragic accident.
Wendsy nonchalantly came a little closer.
Garson could have moved, moved to his left, but then would be out to where the 'gang' could see him. There was no place to go in the small cave.
Wendsy glanced to his sex.
There was nothing there.
No, he didn't have a cunt, no testicles or cock, either. A hermaphrodite was one who had both sex parts, this fella had none. But not by a cruel joke of Nature, a cruel joke of a careless drunk driver.
(Of course, getting a hummer while driving had something to do with it, too!) The girlfriend had in her mouth at the time of impact his whole cock AND testicles!The impact/crash/collision created by the drunk driver caused the steering wheel of Garson's '67 Chevy Impala to impact the girlfriend's head. The end result was the severing of his manhood and accompanying equipment.
By the time Garson and his girlfriend were removed from the wreckage and transferred to the hospital, it was too late. Restoring what had made Garson a man was impossible.
Several attempts had been made, but they were lackluster at best and were non-functioning anyways. He peed via a small tube from within. He was very torn up, distressed, and pissed. This explained a lot.
There was nothing that Wendsy could do for him, except lay down and open her legs, masturbate, and groan. Garson looked to her, and in essence, in reality, he was a good boy, a mild-mannered fellow who was at one time a strong Christian. Perversion was next to nil in his Christian life, and his first sexual experience didn't come until he was sixteen. Before then, he only occasionally jerked off. He had no interest in younger girls, and he was not overly aware about subjects like sodomy, gay sex, 69ing, around-the-world, etc.
After the accident, there was a major change in his demeanor. He stared at the young (willing) Wendsy. He rubbed himself where his cock ought to be, then went to his knees slowly. Wendsy parted her legs more. Garson looked, stared, sweated, and then went down, licking her pussy.
There were strong sexual "feelings" welling up within the young man, despite the loss of proper equipment. While his tongue languished within Wendsy's cunt, a free hand fondled himself, grinding the heel of his hand against his sex.
After a moment, he sat up, sighed/breathed hard, panting. The heel of his hand still pressed hard against him. Their eyes met, but there was little else Wendsy could do for him.
'Wendsy! Come look!' September shouted into her mind, interrupting her thoughts.
It was a big tree, but not a giant redwood. The bark of this tree was actually green. There was a hollow on one side, the actual height of the tree was unknown, the Imager only focused on the hollow--which was six feet in oval. The diameter of the tree seemed to be approximately three times that.
Inside the tree were two kids. Two kids we all know and love, Sara and Ben! September shot a look to his sister, he had been redeemed!
The two were still clothed and still very much lost and frightened. They clung to one another as it appeared as if the weather outside the hollow had turned nasty.
It didn't last long, though. The two tree inhabitants continued holding onto one another, looking out and being very confused and scared. Again, Wendsy worked her magic, with September helping. Mostly to calm them and put them at ease, as well as into a more familiar frame of mind.
Garson came around the boulders he had been hiding behind and watched as well, amused by what was happening. Kristy, Hanna, Logan, Josh, and all were very captivated. Karen and Jackie were so-so.
Jackie, though, became more enthused when the girl subject, Sara, stood up and leaned forward some, pulling up her dress. The boy subject, Ben, tugged down her panties. His young hands smoothed over the girl's exposed butt, and his young face went into her crack and began licking.
Josh, Jackie, Logan, September, and if Garson could have his dick back, all had boners. Kristy and Hanna stared with mouths open. (All were unaware of Wendsy and September's mental-hand in the deal.)
After some minutes of crack exploration, Sara stood, and so did Ben. They faced one another, Sara's undies at mid-thigh. She undid Ben's trousers and tugged them down, along with his underwear. She then began toying/tugging/pulling on his young pud. No one around the Imaging pool moved or said a word.
Soon Sara was kneeling before the ever-smiling Ben, addressing his cock and loving it. She held his bald nads and then engulfed his young prick. When his pudling was as stiff as it was going to get, Ben and Sara completed undressing.
Sara lay on her clothes. Josh and Jackie were stroking their cocks hard as they watched, Kristy and Hanna were fingering themselves, and Logan, behind Hanna, was up her ass fucking her.
Ben lay on Sara, grinding his little pud onto her little slit. Sara groaned, grunted, made faces. She finally accepted Wendsy's input and placed her hands onto Ben's ass. Ben finally managed to slip his itty prong into its proper resting place.
The Fucking of Sara commenced. The Freaking out of Sara & Ben soon followed, a mix of sexual pleasure, discomfort, and being grossed out by the broken hymen. The blood coating young Ben's cock and balls was not met well. Both thought the worst and freaked out. Wendsy & September had a time calming their fears.
When their young fears HAD been at length calmed, the two left the tree naked. Kristy focused on the boy, licking her lips and fingering herself even more, desiring the boy deeply. Logan stepped up behind her, after emptying quite a load in Hanna's ass. He rubbed his cock up and down Kristy's ass, admired Karen who stood nearby, then stuffed Kristy's poop chute and was greatly relieved.
A pool of water (normal) was nearby, here Sara and Ben cleaned themselves, then stood so as the onlooker from beyond could have a nice look.
'Think we should bring them in?' Wendsy asked.
'Might as well,' September replied. Why not?
They were allowed to get back into their clothes, walk a bit, hold hands, and be as confused as possible. Which wasn't hard to do. They walked a bit, looked around, then walked some more. A nut tree helped their hunger, they even found a pomegranate tree; it was messy but helped stem the tide of hunger pains.
September looked to his sister, she didn't seem to be making any moves to retrieve the pair. She seemed content with just merely "observing" them. Nothing wrong with that.
The day where the children were seemed to be warming up, after the brief afternoon rain. After their fill of nuts and pomegranates, they rested. Thereafter, they continued to walk, they said nothing, but held hands. When little Ben paused to haul out his pee-pee to pee, he no longer hid that fact, and Sara watched him. On their own!
'Get behind him,' Wendsy said to the girl.
Compliance!
'Play with his pee-pee.'
Yep, that, too!
Ben finished his pee, Sara stroked his little bone, fondled his hairless nads, then worked his clothes down. She herself, under "prompting," went to her knees, pressing her face to his bare butt. To each cheek, she kissed; then, the boy bent over--under prompting--and Sara took a turn at licking his crack!
The newcomers to the Imaging Pool were in awe. They stared in awe and could only look on in awe. September popped his neck, fondled himself, and farted.
Ben turned about, looking down to Sara. He was grinning big. She clamped her hands to his little ass and engulfed his little dick. Ben pumped like he knew how. He was too young to cum, but close counts.
'Take off your clothes.'
Sara began stripping, as soon as she did, little Ben did likewise, on his own! Once naked, Sara was instructed to lay down on her clothes, open her legs--Ben was instructed (although he didn't need so much encouragement) and lick out Sara's twat.
From there, they grinded into one another, giggling, kissing, hands on one another's ass. Ben finally got the knack of penetrating Sara's young pussy. She soon was on her hands and knees, and before the unseen onlookers' shock (and delight), Ben was butt-humping the girl!
The Imager shimmered, and the scene slipped into normal mode. Wendsy stared with HER mouth open. 'Damn,' she said. She looked to her brother, whose cock was hanging low, all fucked out and out of cum. He hadn't been responsible. No one had. What had happened? Wendsy was a little distraught, she had lingered too long, she should have secured the two kids when she had the chance.
'Damn.'
With a little break in the Imager, the cave dwellers scouted around to see their new home. Garson was the only one who remained clothed. The rest still adjusted to being naked in among mixed friends and sexes. Some were more comfortable with it than others.
Upon exploration, there were found hidden niches, niches that by direct line of sight they were not seen. One had to be virtually with shoulder against the wall and look along the wall to see. Then, the niches could be found.
In the niches were bounties of sustenance. The niches were carved out of the cave wall, being small and none bigger than 2 feet deep by 3 feet wide. They were illuminated by a soft green light. The niches with water came by a mini waterfall trickling down a multi-coral aquarium-like rock formation; there was bits of moss growing, but the water was absolutely crystal clear, fresh, and quite delicious!
In other niches, there were grapes in bunches, bananas, apples, berries, oranges, and nuts. There seemed to be an ample supply, and despite everyone having their share, when looked again, that which had been taken was replaced! It was a little spooky for some, not at all to others.
No meats, though.
In the rear of the cave, an alcove was found, using the same method of shoulder to the wall and looking along. The alcove was the ye olde bathroom. It had a carved stone seating area with three "holes" that disappeared into inky darkness. No toilet paper, but stacks and stacks of papaya paper nearby.Mangoes, papayas, passion fruit, pineapples, and grapefruit were found the following morning, replacing the fruits of the previous day. (Though "time" meant diddly where the group was, Logan had the only working watch, and it had the "moon phase" to indicate "PM" and "AM".)
The temperature in the cave-home was tolerable. There was no air movement and no sounds other than their own. The lighting seemed constant, but it couldn't be determined exactly from "where."
No one seemed to ask the obvious in regards to the Imaging Pool:
1) Was it a One-Way Travel? 2) Could one go BACK through? 3) What ELSE did the Imager do?
Wendsy had some idea, but wasn't volunteering any information.
The gang seemed to be content with where they were. There was no need to upset them or get their hopes up with a possible trip home/from whence they came from now, was there?
There was still the minor embarrassment and shyness of prancing about butt/buck naked. Josh was so himself, but mostly it was due to the simple fact that he wanted desperately to fuck Karen, her sister Hanna, and Wendsy. Logan had the same problem.
Getting used to going about naked was going to take a while, as some were more comfortable with it than others. Going to the bathroom together was another hitch.
September watched the Imager for any changes, Wendsy was curious about what happened, and everyone was curious as to what happened to the two kids depicted.
The exploration of the new home continued. By the afternoon of the second day, another hidden alcove had been found. Here there was actually a small short hallway. Along the walls were large niches. All were carved from the stone walls, which were very smooth. What was even more remarkable was the fact that the surface of the large personal niches was "soft." It played heavily with the mind, as it wasn't natural - as the hands pressed down, they found it most like a familiar bed! There, too, was a pillow!
Another "bathroom" seating was found further down the hall, with enough "beds" for all, if you didn't mind the slight closed-in feeling. Wendsy took the opportunity, as she was tired and a rest was nice. September noshed on the various offerings found in the niches and stayed out in the Imaging area. Josh accompanied him. Garson was hiding again. Kristy put Karen down, cooing her to sleep, as the whole experience was still being digested. Logan and Hanna "hooked up" again, and Kristy emerged back into the main room, finding the two doing it doggy-style.
Kristy became very aware of her own nudity and, without Wendsy's calming nature, she grew a little frightened. September chilled her and brought her over to him, whereupon she latched onto his ready-to-suck cock and sucked him dry. Thereafter, he had her go and suck on Logan's swinging balls as she lay underneath her best friend, Hanna. Hanna took to sucking on Kristy's cunt, and September was revitalized. He sank himself into Kristy's cunt, as well as into Hanna's mouth.
Logan emptied his tool into Hanna's ass, spanked his cock against her flesh, and spilled every ounce of his love juice onto her cheeks and hole. Kristy (amazingly on her own) licked Hanna's hole. Josh got his balls sucked on as he took HIS turn into Hanna's backdoor, and he also entered into her pussy and fucked until he creamed her therein. Thereafter, the girls were exhausted, as was young Josh. Garson had spied on the group during the whole time.
Logan sat back on his haunches masturbating. September peered into the pool, stared longingly at the passed-out Hanna and Kristy, then smiled to himself and left the "room." Moments later, Logan joined him as the pudgy younger fella had young Karen's legs opened wide and was eating her young delectable pussy. Logan circled jerked and patiently waited his turn.
He watched and was amazed that the little tyke wasn't throwing a fit or upset as September seriously got involved in tonguing her pussy and fingering/fucking her asshole. She seemed to be awake but maybe she wasn't. Along the walls, spaced apart every other sleeping niche, was a palm-sized mass of what looked like mixed meshed coral; it glowed in colors softly. By pressing one's palm onto the smooth glass-like object, the lighting in the hall either brightened or dimmed.
It was dim in the hall, so Logan couldn't rightly tell too much of what was going on. Karen's head and shoulders were inside her niche, the rest of her was out, being supported by September. September soon had his cock sliding into Karen's body.
Logan breathed hard, stepping right up close and seeing for himself that Karen seemed to be awake, but possibly in a daze or something - she wasn't blinking, just staring. She didn't even make any faces as September's cock slid all the way into her.
September was merely twelve, he was pudgy, but had a nice cock just the same. Karen was six and not quite capable of really taking on boys and their "toys."
After September emptied himself and nearly fell on his trembling weak legs, Logan took his turn, poking Karen's pussy and asshole. He humped the child's cunt, sliding himself INTO her, desiring her as deeply as he desired to screw her sister and Hanna!
He had just cum all that he thought he would be able to cum when he noticed beside him was Wendsy. While he held up Karen's legs, she cleaned the child off with her tongue. September had Kristy on the equally soft floor of the cave, fucking her. Logan eased his cock into Wendsy's mouth - not that he had any choice! She sucked on his funky cum-stained cock, his balls, and drained him into oblivion!The unconscious girl was of equal age, with permed blond hair, a sweet-looking girl, wearing a Christian necklace, and was being fondled by the boy. She had rosy cheeks, more than ample breasts, a striped horizontal blouse that was light and airy, and long-sleeved, light-colored blue jeans.
The other girl "paused" beyond the boulders was a dark-haired girl, with a tight butt in tight-fitting dark blue jeans and a green pullover top. She was also approximately fourteen years young, short-haired, a little taller than her companions, and long-legged.
Wendsy paused in her thinking, and everyone around her was watching in awe, waiting for something to happen. September felt that all was good, and they had the time. Wendsy wanted a little information before proceeding.
She found out that the lone boy and unconscious girl were siblings, brother and sister. The girl was a year younger than he. He, Brandon, was at the pivotal age, whereas he had a near-constant boner most of the time; during his waking hours as well as his sleeping time. He was a so-so masturbator, and he was a virgin. He did sometimes occasionally hump his bed.
He did sometimes lust for his sister, especially when he saw her in her panties, bathing suit, sleepwear, and naked. He had memories etched into his mind from the times when she was younger, when she was in her streaking period and not modest. As she got older, he had to settle for when she was nonchalantly in her undies or sleeping clothes, bathing suit.
He lusted for her friends. He lusted for his mother's friends, daughters of his mother's friends, 99% of the girls at his church, his friends' sisters, his friends' sisters' friends.
Morals? Some, he tried not to lust for girls younger than himself. That was wrong. But sometimes it was not helped, not helped when the girls under ten inadvertently flashed him while tumbling in the grass of a front lawn he was passing; a young one unknowingly inviting perversion while pulling up her dress and giving everyone and anyone a "show."
Girls from 8 to 10 in super-tight jeans.
Girls in super-short skirts and dresses.
Girls, girls, girls.
He was a typical male.
For the most part, he managed to keep his lustful feelings to himself, after a good circle jerk or an occasional bed hump, he felt better, relieved, and could go on with his life. He was a Christian, a devout teen involved heavily in his church, mostly in regards to the choir.
He was an honor student, helpful, loving, and had a sister who had passed out due to the heat. She was a mild diabetic who needed immediate medical care. Brandon was not a runner, he was clumsy at it.
Megan was the runner, she had the legs for it. Their parents were at the desert vista not far away.
Holly was unconscious, and Wendsy could not glean any information from her as such.
Megan, though, was close at hand. She was a Christian girl, too. Morally just, a few stray thoughts of sexual depravity, but mostly in regards to boys her age, some a little older, NONE younger than herself. She worked with children, never thought anything of molesting any boy she helped. She babysat for young boys, helped them bathe, wipe, and dress. Never had any naughty thoughts in regards to sexual debauchery.
She DID have some thoughts about what it would be like to be gang-banged, or "trained." She spanked herself and fucked herself with a Coke bottle, some fruits from the crisper, and had let the family dog lick her cunny!
Other than that...
Wendsy had something to work with. She trained her mind to Brandon. Slowly she re-wove his thinking, but it wasn't a hard thing to do, as the boy already realized the optimum potential he had. Holly was long gone and wouldn't be back for several-several minutes. He had time.
He just needed a little encouragement, a little goading.
Wendsy was all too happy to provide. In that matter, she understood some of what August Moone was like, using his infamous Device to control other people, make them do things that they would not normally do. It was more of a (sexual) turn-on than anything else.
Not much prompting was needed, partially on his own, Brandon undid his sister's jeans. Mostly she had lost consciousness due to the excessive heat and lack of water.
Brandon carefully unhooked the jeans and pulled the flaps back. The unconscious sister breathed, but it was labored. She DID need some medical attention.
Brandon was sweating. He held his breath and lip, and with trembling fingers inched the jeans down. Off-white bikini-style undies with pink roses. The jeans were taken down to fully expose, Brandon gouged his bulge with the heel of his hand, droplets of sweat fell onto his sister's blouse, he was lusting heavily and heavier.
The jeans were moved down a little more, to the knees. Brandon eyed the girl, taking trembling fingers to her muffin, admiring it, noting the bulge, the whole crotch area. "Oh God!" he breathed. His neck muscles tightened, he closed his eyes and soon had his cock out, not caring at the moment if anyone came around the boulders or not.
With slight prompting from Wendsy and on his own, Brandon took down his own jeans and underwear, then took his unconscious sister's hand and had her stroke him, cup his balls, rub his ass.
This soon led to the opening of her blouse and the flipping up of her bra. Brandon ran his bare cock against the flesh, then tilted her head to make her suck on the head.
Megan being unconscious did not "suck."
He then went for broke by easing down Meg's panties.
For a long enduring moment, he stared at her furry pussy. Then he began exploring using his fingers, parting the lips and getting more of an education than ever he could from Sex Ed classes or health books. His cock and balls strengthened, and he laid on his sister, grinding his cock onto her pussy and humping until he creamed.
He diddled his fingers in the mess, working up his sister's cunt and not knowing if whether or not she was a virgin. (she was.) He sucked on her titties while his cock languished on her humped cunny.
"What would you do if you caught Brandon fucking his sister?"
Holly stood sweating, growing tired from all the standing, she needed to pee and possibly poop. The image of her friend and Brandon came into her mind, she had seen Meg naked before, no biggie. Neither were sexual towards one another, they didn't even discuss masturbating.
How did she feel about brothers and sisters fucking?
She knew that it happened, she was a single girl herself. But she had cousins who fooled around, she felt that it was alright--when they were younger, preteen and such. Just sexual exploration. But as the siblings grew older, those sexual feelings (and activities) towards one another should stop.
Holly had never seen Brandon naked. She HAD seen her cousin Mel naked. She HAD seen her cousin Mel and cousin Shelly fuck. She kept it to herself, they two sibs had been twelve at the time, Shelly actually eleven.
But Brandon and Megan, could she handle seeing them sexually engaged?
Holly didn't know.
Could she handle seeing Megan SUCKING Brandon's dick?
Could she handle seeing Megan on her hands and knees with Brandon behind her? Spanking? Peeing on one another? Sixty-nining one another?
The images caused Holly to sweat more and to pee in her pants.
'Take off your pants and shirt,' Wendsy said to Holly.
Slowly Holly complied, removing her shoes and socks, too.
She remained in her undies and walked back around the boulders.
Her first reaction was one of classic awe.
The realization that she herself was not so well dressed was elusive to her, her mind was suddenly filled with Brandon with his pants and underwear down at his ankles on top of his sister who was partially nude herself!
Brandon was oblivious to Holly's sudden return, his mind was solely occupied with his sister.
'If you could get away with it--' Mind Wendsy to Brandon, 'would you?'
Brandon only had to pause a moment before acknowledging that despite his strong Christian morals and ethics, he WOULD fuck his sister at a given opportunity (such as now.)
Wendsy was cool with that. She helped him hustle the unconscious girl out of her clothes, one piece at a time. On his own, he sniffed his sister's panties, lingered staring at her nudity, his cock seriously aching to be inside his sister's cunt.
Wendsy didn't hold him back. He lay on her and guided his brotherly prick into her cunny and began fucking.
Holly stood staring, and Wendsy determined that she WAS okay with it, she had always suspected that the two may indeed already be involved; but it was a private and very personal thing. She had always wanted to ask if Megan was fooling around with her brother. She thought they two of them were so Churchy they wouldn't possibly do such a thing. But they might and be sneaky about it and pull the proverbial wool over everyone's eyes.
As Brandon pumped into his virgin unconscious sister, Holly waltzed over and caressed his bare ass. Brandon was still unaware. Holly slipped her hand inside her undies and frigged herself. Wendsy saw in her mind that she wanted to have Brandon fuck her. She also wanted Megan to lick her pussy out!
Megan's legs were up along her brother's bare chest, his cock buried to the hilt in her hot little pussy, his balls tight against her asshole as he paused to strain and shoot loads of brotherly spunk. Holly smacked his ass, getting her kicks in, too.
After he unloaded into his sister, Holly used Meg's panties to "clean up." She cleaned off Meg's soiled/broken hymen and Brandon's cum-spewing cock.
'Suck his cock,' Wendsy said after said cock was cleaned thoroughly enough.
Holly hesitated a moment and then went down, gobbling his cock like she knew how. (but she didn't, it was just natural instinct)
She slurped on his shaft and balls, too.
Brandon emptied his third cum shoot into her mouth.Holly was "turned around" by prompting. She tugged her undies down some, and Brandon, without being prompted, stepped and pressed his leaking, half-dead cock against her ass flesh. Holly parted her cheeks, and Brandon fingered her hole before forcing his not-so-erect cock into her backdoor.
The images of little girls in their panties, little girls streaking, his sister, his sister's friends, etc. filled his mind, and soon he was hard (enough) again to make anal entry successful.
"Wendsy! Something's happening!"
"What?"
"I don't know, I-I think it's going to change or something."
"Hold it!" she said to him, then dramatically waltzed out into the pond. September placed the crooked, gnarled stick into the pool and held it firm, hoping to hold the Image steady until she could make the retrieval. | null | Book 3, Chapter 4 - Doodling | Authors/Bootscooter/August Moone Book 3 Chptr 4.txt |
112,553 | Bootscooter | August Moone | You do it, you know you do it; he does it, she does it, they do it—we all do it; I just did it and I'm ready to do it again!
Church observations continued
Little thought was given to Rory V; he was no longer worthy of thought. Little Jena, Rory's former step-daughter, was worthy of thought; as were the others Mack had already "collected": Bonnie and Hanna the twins; Sara, Tosha, and boys Charles "Chip" Arny, and Bryan Eppney.
Quite a little lot to have all to oneself, isn't it? Mack thought about that—thought about that—thought about it. From the redneck church, he had seen some "possibles"; Paul Mikelson filled the top spot and was already a steady resident at Mack's remote abode. Paul had the latest mind-stunning device, a Flash device. (He had used it on his daughter, Portia, in the church episode introduction two chapters back.) Daughter Portia (and son Eric) were brought out to Mack's place, and wife Lyndsy, too.
Disabled Lyndsy was awed by Mack's place—more so about the residents residing. She wasn't aghast, just awed—there's a difference. Mostly it was fear that someone would find out, something would happen to one of the kids requiring medical attention, and was there lasting ill-effects of a minding device on a Subject's mind?
Good question.
Mack didn't care—so he didn't.
Mack's "favorites" were Bonnie and Hanna, the Carney twins. He liked Sara, Tosha, the boys, and the latest edition, Jena Lynn; but it was Bonnie and Hanna that he enjoyed the most. With Paul and his family virtually moving in, he enjoyed Paul's daughter, Portia. Paul enjoyed Sara and Tosha, selecting them as his "favorites."
Lyndsy, of course, enjoyed the boys and enjoyed her new relationship with her own son, Eric. It was a new way of life for them all; Mack's EMAD and Paul's Flash device changed the kids, rewiring their thoughts and actions so the minding devices could be put away—until new arrivals, of course. Of course!
Bonnie and Hanna readily adapted to the "new way of life"; they were eleven with being "twelve" inside two months. Their supple breasts were growing; their eyes of blue brightening all the more; their smiles, posture, and everything about them. Mack was very much enthralled with their presence and graciously thankful to the EMAD.
Sara was tall, long limbs, and so virtually lily white with blond hair that even the "bush" she had was basically impossible to see. Sara's twelfth birthday was months away; her breasts were smaller; she was a little shy but eager to please. Mack liked that. Often she could be found sucking on Paul's cock while getting doinked from behind by Mack (or one of the boys.)
Though Tosha had also been subdued by the EMAD, there was resistance. She complied but there was hesitation. The use of a belt and switch put her in her place—she was controllable more so by Force and Threat.
The boys, Charles "Chip" Arny and Bryan Eppney weren't particularly keen on humping one another OR giving each other head OR sucking on Mack and Paul. But, they were okay with humping the girls and somewhat enthused with screwing and doing other associative naughty things with Paul's wife, Lyndsy.
Jena Lynn was also a participant in the Mack household shenanigans; she went nude and participated in giving blowjobs, fingering herself standing up, laying down across someone's lap for a spanking; spreading her own cheeks to be licked out as well as fucked in one hole or the other. But for the most part those incidents were just "once in a while." Mack felt some strange relationship with the girl—a responsibility that was on a different level than that with the others.
She was, of course, humped on, filled to capacity with generous quantities of cum, lightly spanked, generously peed on, and "shared" with the other boys—but not quite as often as the others…
Equipped with an EMAD—no one was safe. There were Subjects, Targets, and Possibles, everywhere. No one was safe. And though Mack Borelin was content with the family he had at his home, more was always a possible. It was a never-ending cycle—a taxing to perplexing cycle; but one that Mack Boreline was willing to submit himself to. He couldn't explain it—there was no explanation to it, really. He was consumed to the point whereas he wondered "who was controlling who?" Meaning, was he controlling the EMAD or was the EMAD controlling him?
At the redneck church, the haven of illicit activity he encountered Kim Whitmore. He liked Kim, she was different—a modern woman, Chinese, in her early thirties, with two kids. Hubby was a deacon at the church and ran a marriage counseling class at the church and local college. Kim was a writer/historian and also taught social studies at the church and local college.
The woman was friendly and always chatty. She wanted to get Mack involved in the church, in the capacity of "teaching" (something); involved in a Singles group, utilize his skills as a carpenter to help refurbish some cabins up in a nook of the mountains where the church could retreat to for a week or so—for singles, for couples, for marrieds, and of course for children.
Mack was keen on the children part.
And Mack was keen on Kim, too. She waylaid him in the parking lot, getting his attention as he was leaving from a business meeting he was getting involved in anyways. She wore jeans, which she normally didn't—she looked HOT in those jeans. Usually her attire was a dress or skirt of some sort—knee length with no "V" neck plunging or otherwise.
She was one of the most prettiest Chinese girls he had ever seen.
Her hubby was not Chinese but a plain ole white boy American.
The kids took on a great deal of their Mother's heritage but were as American as apple pie, baseball, and moose turds. The kids were in the backseat of the modern American 4-door sedan. The day was midday, warm, and Mack was bored out of his skull from the meeting.
Parked under the shade of some trees along the far west edge of the parking lot, Kim waved to get Mack's attention. He acknowledged and instead of walking across the blazing pavement, he drove over, parked at an angle and then greeted the friendly woman with a generous hug. An idea formed in him immediately. You know the one…
"So I was thinking you could take over Ham's class once he leaves, and then there's blab la bla bla blab," she went on and on and on and Mack acknowledged the kids in the backseat—Brittany and Bryan. Brittany was twelve years young—her brother was ten years. Brittany had the more Chinese eyes while Bryan had more "American" eyes but a Chinese face just the same.
Both kids were well-mannered; polite, well-dressed, and more than once did Mack desire them. The Mother, too, was at the top of the Desire list—along with just about every girl of every age and every woman of suitable young adult age.
Making himself comfortable leaning against his car, he tried very hard to make it seem as if he was paying attention to the continuous babble of Kim. But he was doing something else on the sly.
Brittany fidgeted in the backseat, her pesky brother fidgeted more. It was hot, their Mother had shut off the a/c and instead opened the doors for "natural air" claiming "conditioned air" sustained was not good for you. Whatever the hell that meant.
Bryan made a pest of himself, talking to himself and making "raspberry" sounds; he also for some reason kept inching over to his sister's side of the seat (encroaching on her space.) A fight was inevitable. Then,
Brittany blinked her eyes "WTF?" outside and there was Mack with his hands on her Mom's ass! WTF! And her Mom didn't seem to be upset by it! They were, in fact, hugging one another and was she (Brittany's Mom) rubbing her leg up and down on Mack's leg!?
OMG!
As Brittany watched (in some building horror) her Mom began fondling the man's crotch—specifically his penis. There was no doubt. Then, THEN, Brittany's Mom fished out the man's cock! She handled it, stroked it, massaged it sort of and then—THEN—stooped over and began sucking it!
No way!
Way.
OMG!
A blowjob in the middle of the day in broad daylight in a church parking lot—it didn't get any better. Well, it could get better. After a few minutes of righteous sucking (and Kim Whitmore knew how to give) Mack stood her up, hugged her (no tongue) and manipulated her mind more so having her undo her blouse and free those nainais (Chinese word for breasts.) He fondled them (once they were freed) then seemingly (to her bewildered children) she undone her pants and tugged them down along with her panties.
Bryan's jaw dropped.
Bryan's heart stopped as beside him his sister undone her own blouse then her pants pushing them down along with her own panties. Outside (sort of) and Bryan's Mom was laying on top of the guy in the backseat of his car. There was his Mom—nude! Her legs were spread and he (Bryan) could see her ass and the guy's cock.
Blinking the sweat out of his eyes and he could see the guy's penis going into his Mom. It was then he realized the action to his own penis!
Kim Whitmore gave him the best fuck feeling! The feel of her ass, the feel of her tits grinding against his chest, the feel of her cunt snugly engulfing his manly cock—it was the best feeling ever! The woman knew how to fuck and Mack was glad of it. She was a little dynamo in the sack—or backseat. Mack's cock, though, having had significant "action" of late took a little more doing (screwing) to get off.
For visual aid to help his cause along, he had Brittany take her clothes off, crawl over her bewildered brother and sit on the edge of the seat facing him. Then, the girl laid back with her legs opened and began fingering herself.
That did the trick, almost instantly and did Mack's prick begin exploding loads of luscious man spunk DEEP into Kim's cunt.He powerfully fucked the woman on top of him, gripped her ass tightly, and pumped tenaciously until the feeling of fucking subsided—a whole minute later.
Pushing Kim off, he called for Brittany (hark-hark he called) and the naked pre-teen came to stand at Mack's opened legs. Her young mind was his to control—she was "aware" but then again not aware enough. For a minute, he had the girl stand—stark naked, allowing him to gaze upon her and allowing his cock to settle.
Bryan still sat in his family's car—still mystified and totally wowed.
The young boy's "wow" went bombastically ballistic as he watched in awesome awe his naked sister go down on the guy's cock! She did! She sucked on the cummy cock, sucked the hairy cummy balls, sucked-sucked-sucked. Then she sucked some more before climbing on top of the nearly nude, sweaty man; she settled her pussy right onto his sucked clean cock and wiggled herself—her sex until the man began working himself into her.
'Come here,' a voice said to Bryan.
Bryan blinked his eyes and felt suddenly ill—a huge wave of warmth kissed his young body all over and then—THEN he felt like something was pulling him—pushing him out of the car and to come stand up behind his naked sister.
It was then that he realized that he was naked. (naked with a raging boner!)
'Have you put your pee-pee into your sister?'
Young Bryan heard the question and though it was supposed to be a secret, he blurted out loud "Yes!"
'Have you put your pee-pee in her mouth?'
"Yes!"
'In her ass?'
"Yes!"
And in her pussy, too. He licked her pussy, fingered it, humped on the outside of it and slipped it in—but only a couple of times and though he was ten, she made him put a condom on his invader before they had sex—just in case.
Mack smiled and gingerly eased his dick into the girl's smooth, virtually hairless cunt. Penetration was possible but it took a little time. The air was hot, they were in public, and the air was very hot. Once he was sufficiently in Brittany's cunt halfway and the pumping began, he got the naked Bryan to get into her ass and do likewise.
It was awkward—way clumsy, but a humping was done and that was all there was to it. Mack in no way could get all the way into Brittany's sex; as much humping the girls at his remote home were getting from the boys—Mack wasn't getting much of his manly manhood into them, either. (luckily they had two other holes that sufficed!)
After a time and it was getting almost too hot to think, Mack released a suitable amount of man jiz into Brittany's sex. Bryan still had a nice hard-on and so he was directed to hump his Mom. Seemed the thing to do. It was awkward in that doing, too; Kim on her back behind the seat on the floorboard; one leg cocked out the passenger side door, the other hooked on the headrest of the front seat—young son just a-plowing away in the pussy that bore him.
It was clumsy, it was awkward; it was hot, sticky, and becoming just a bit putrid—but it was the grandest thing! Bryan humped like it was his last hump, finally unleashing a mighty torrent of young boy cum minutes later. The boy's whole body shuddered with his arms locked and his hips shimmering in an odd dancing manner as his cock within his Mom's cunt flourished in a natural rhythm of sincere pleasure.
The boy was pretty much useless thereafter; he was turned to his side, back against the back of the front seats so as his sister could clean off his cock AND lick clean her Mom's cummy cunt.
Mack took a breather; his cock was way sore. A little mind manipulation for the three and then he would be about done. It was taxing enough to deal with one person, let alone multiples. Young Bryan had done good—humped his Mom, sat on her chest and humped her adequate breasts, humped her mouth; then, got sucked off by his sister.
Brittany maintained a confused state of being—aware and not aware, complicated by thoughts that were not hers—but then again, were. 'You like sucking your brother's cock' and 'you want to suck your Dad's cock' along with 'you love licking out your Mom's cunt.'
It was a tiring and trying thing to manipulate the Whitmore family, but it was a done deal. Kim and the kids would "seduce" hubby/Daddy, John; submit to Mack, and be naughty-naughty-naughty together on their own. Mack was proud of his accomplishment (he had a feeling about John—another possible self-righteous member worthy of issuance of a Pervert's card.)It enthused Mack, though, and with his hands locked tightly on Jena's hips, he brought the girl up and down, increasing the flow of his love—and juices.
The air inside the cramped quarters began to stifle and become unbearable. Mack opened the sliding door, and after Paul got his rocks off, Mack brought Sara, the first one, out of the van. He led her to a grassy area to a lone small oak and planted her there. Her hands were tied behind her to the tree—then he watered her and spent ten minutes dinking with her mind—essentially wiping her memory.
Downtown in the area behind the bus station, Tosha found herself—or listless passengers roaming the alley. She was found naked, covered in pee and drying cum. Down the street behind the newspaper building, garbage collectors found Chip and Bryan—naked together, super glued together in a compromising position.
The twins were not found together—and not even in the same town! Bonnie was found behind the diner in a desert city; her twin was found one hundred miles away in a park. Mack had a hard time parting with the twins, he loved on them, watched Paul love on them; both he and Paul loved on the girl at the same time and by morning's dawn, she was out.
Jena Lynn was another toughie to let go. Mack humped on her but mostly held her. She was special; Bonnie and Hanna had been special, too. So had Tosha and Sara. Even the boys! He had a passion for each of the captives; but by noon, even little Jena was returned to society—even to the church where she had been absconded from.
Mack's mood thereafter was a little sour; Paul (and family) gave him a wide berth and let him be. 'You can always get her again, if you want,' Paul had supplied. 'Or simply get some others.'
Get some others.
Replacements.
"You got the look, you got the look! Yeah, yeah! You got the look!" Samantha McGurdy sang backup to her friend, Carly; Tina Frock danced about with the portable piano slung across her lithe preteen body while Freddie Kress, the only boy, banged away on the drums. "The Shady Tree Garage Door Gang" had arrived.
Well, they were in practice. It was Wednesday, and on the upcoming Saturday, they had a school event gig that wouldn't pay them money but would give them exposure. That was better than paid advertising; word of mouth spoke more than printed flyers. So they had to practice—practice—practice if they wanted to sound good and be noticed.
They were "noticed" alright...
Carly Shay, months from being thirteen, had lovely long straight blond hair with purple and green streaks. The girl had a "fresh" face, inquisitive, a few karate lessons under her belt, sucked at anything involving a ball but fared better running track. But singing, flirting, grooving was more her thing.
Samantha McGurdy had creamy dark skin, a kinky 'fro, and about the sweetest smile ever! Raven dark eyes, a blossoming chest, and three months shy of being thirteen. The girl had a natural gift for music; she needed only to hear a note, a melody, a tune one time and she had it.
Tina Frock worked the bass guitar, she could also play other instruments but she got her groove with the bass. The girl was nearly lily white—which made her a stand out contrast with Samantha's dark skin. Tina was a shy girl with her only hobby being music. She sang back-up and wrote many of the group's music.
Freddie Kress was the other black member of the Shady Tree Garage Door Gang; he banged the drums and was pretty good at it; but also could play keyboard and flute.
The Shady Tree Garage Door Gang—four pre-teens who grooved to their own thing; they tried not to be too noisy in Samantha's parents' garage and the neighbors were tolerable. But they needed lots of practice—practice—practice. When not practicing in the garage, they were at their school utilizing the auditorium or the open sound stage by the soccer field.
Just after Freddie hooked up the sound mike and took his seat making a sound check, Carly bent over making last minute adjustments to her own microphone. "Ready Freddie's" eyes were locked solid on the girl's ass. Carly didn't "bend" at the knees like a proper girl (or anyone) should to save her back, she locked her legs and bent straight over. Freddie looked like he was in some agony. And he was.
Carly wore funky jeans with patches all over them but not because she was a tomboy and got rough with her clothing—it was the "in-style" and Carly was proposing a hip motion in her young peoples nation. A layered top with denim jacket also adorned with patches. The girl was cute, her long straight blond hair had a few clips in it but otherwise had no style but that still made her outstanding.
'You'd like to see her naked, wouldn't you?'
Freddie automatically without hesitation nodded and confirmed so.
'Are you a virgin?'
Unfortunately that would be a confirmed Yes.
'Would you like to FUCK her?' indicating the still bent over Carly.
That would be a fortunate whole heartedly confirmed Yes.
'Virgin?'
"No," she answered aloud.
Samantha had two older brothers, an older sister, and one younger brother. The sex was with the one younger brother and one of the older brothers. Consensual. She was only twelve—but almost thirteen; her "first time" was with older brother Ron, he was fifteen at the time and Samantha was barely eleven. All her life she and her sibs had run amok their house naked and it was no big deal. No anal but plenty of oral.
'Would you like sex with Freddie?'
She shrugged her answer indicating that she hadn't exactly considered Freddie for sex—he was just a friend.
'What about sex with one of your other bandmates?'
That was met with a 'no way' and a 'no fucking way.' Samantha McGurdy was a resound resolute straight girl. No hanky-panky with same sex. Period.
Tina Frock, however, was open to investigate the weird ways of same sex exploration. There was consideration of sex with Freddie. Two other boys in her social also intrigued her, but she wanted precautions and safety (condoms).
Carly was not a virgin. She had an old brother but there was no sex between them; she was months from being thirteen—her brother was eighteen and a month from being nineteen. Carly had "given it up" to a boyfriend who was more (or less) a friend. One time; they had gone skinny dipping in some woods and afterwards engaged in plain straight sex. No oral, no anal—just plain straight sex. Last month, too.
Carly was the most serious of the Garage Door gang; she was the organizer, she made the fliers for the group, talked to promoters and school staffers, and bargained with their parents for help in funding the group's equipment needs. She sat still, calm and quiet, "serious." Her pretty brown eyes stared straight ahead as gently into her mind came a voice.
'Stand up.'
Carly stood. There was no holding back, no fear, no trepidation.
'Undo your pants.'
No hesitation, Carly Shay unfastened her pants, peeled back the flaps, then (on continuation of input from the Voice) pushed the funky jeans down to her ankles.
"Whoa shit!" blurted Freddie Kress. Freddie was under the influence of a mind-altering device but still had the ability to speak his own mind; which was allowed.
Carly wore bright green bikini panties. Freddie's eyes were all attentive—and even more so when the girl tugged the bright undies down to her ankles, stooping over as she did so revealing her very nice partly tanned ass. Carly stood up and remained completely under the influence (of an electronical device.)
Samantha had short yellow knit shorts, kinda tight—a stark contract to her creamy dark skin. Basic white panties she wore and young Freddie Kress was ready to explode.
Tina Frock had powder blue undies.
All three girls stood with their pants and panties at their ankles. The girls were in the secluded basement of Mack Borelin's secluded home outside of town, miles away from the sound stage the girls had been at.
Freddie Kress had an option; 'join me' or 'oppose me.' Some choice. The right thing to do, of course, was to oppose the Voice and try to escape; try to help the girls, or something. But virgin Freddie was willing to "join" the Voice "as long as no one is hurt." Freddie had put in a condition. He wanted to fuck Carly (and Tina and Samantha) to be sure, but he didn't want to see them hurt or harmed or anything.
'What about—spanking?'
"How bad?"
The Voice smiled, "That will depend on you."
She "awoke" with a headache. Then her stomach was aching. Confusion reigned supreme and it took a few minutes to gain some semblance of her senses. Then she sat up and had to start all over again.
Her mouth was dry, sticky, and downright icky. A slight feeling of nausea began to surge and the pesky need to go to the bathroom began to pressure her, too.
But where was she?
A slight ringing in her ear confounded her, her butt(hole) itched, nothing concrete came to her about where she was—she was lucky just to remember who she was (Carly).
As the webs of cob became untangled, she realized to her shock (and horror) that she was naked. "What the fuck!?" she exclaimed aloud. The cobwebs still inundated her creating a blind spot (literally) blocking her peripheral vision allowing the young girl to only see directly ahead in a hazy cone shape kind of view. It was, therefore, dark everywhere else.
Trying to gather info was difficult—when moving her arms and legs, even her head, she got dizzier and more ill. She saw, though, a brick wall, a cement floor, and not much else.
Then Carly realized that she was on a bed, a different kind of bed than she was used to—it had a metal frame and one mattress. Beside her with arms and legs askew was Tina. She was also naked. Carly's breath was taken—even more so when in another like bed was Tina—naked, legs open, her "girl parts" exposed for anyone's viewing pleasure.
"Oh my God!" Carly exclaimed.Not only was Tina nakedly exposed, but so was Samantha. Carly tried to get a grip on the situation, but was too confused; she could scarcely move—scarcely think. Then—
Freddie Kress was before her. He was naked. His black cock was stiff and wavering right before her stunned eyes.
"Oh my God!" she blurted.
'Take it,' said a voice.
Carly whipped her head around, "What!?" then, "No fucking way!"
Way.
A force suddenly was upon the young girl, manipulating her mind and body, having her "take" Freddie's mamba, wrap her fingers about the adequate preteen schlong, and work it into a tizzy. Carly's mouth was mere inches from the wavering dong—
'suck it.'
Carly sat (nakedly) bobbing her head (but not for sucking measures) in total disbelief. Cocksucking her friend, though, was inevitable. The girl slung her head trying to resist, but in the end was unable, and down on Freddie's tool she went—much to Freddie's pleasure and delight.
Samantha and Tina took their turns, too; Samantha got a mouthful of Freddie's jiz. Afterwards, Freddie applied his tongue to the girls and with a sufficient hard-on sunk himself into each girl; he came off in Carly whom he licked out and humped first, and Tina who received his love last.
Then it was down to spanking.
It gave great pleasure to Mack to watch his new friend, Paul, hump his daughter, Portia. The girl was "aware" but unable to prevent her Dad from fucking her. Conditioning would be a long time in coming; she resisted the EMAD and even the threats from her Dad, but the power to resist the EMAD was more than she could cope. The threats were spankings and locked in a dark closet for hours on end.
"It's just sex," Paulie would explain, "simple sex."
Portia was resistant and knew that it was more than simple sex; the relationship (sexually) between her and her Daddy was wrong and she knew it. But she was brought into a new world of sexual deviancy and that was all there was to it.
No conditioning—pure acceptance.
And spanking, too, was a way of life.
Sex was one thing; getting a hummer, humping on flesh, peeing on flesh, watching flesh pee—all well and good. But spanking—spanking was a new high. Daddy Paul enjoyed spanking, usually his own daughter, Portia, but he also enjoyed laying hands on the Replacements; including the single boy Freddie and his own son, Eric.
Carly wriggled as Mack administered his spanking delight. The girl was sprawled out across his lap; she was told to "keep hands on the floor" or the administration of spanking will be harder and longer.
Carly was already in distress and had begun to pee. Several times the girl couldn't help but bring her hands to her blistered ass to protect it. That warranted her five additional spanks as hard as Mack could deliver.
Portia received same on a nearby bunk in the basement; her naked brother, ten-year-old Eric, stood by with his hands behind her caressing his own ass in anticipation of getting walloped himself for no good reason. He was a crier and any little thing often upset him. This was one of those "little things."
When Carly's ass was tomato red and the poor girl couldn't take any more, the spanking ceased. She was still in turmoil and could hardly contain herself or "get a grip." She trembled and had to be put into position for the completion of her torment—and that was on her hands and knees. Her Tormentor positioned himself behind her and after caressing her burning ass, kissing it, licking the crack and especially the hole—he began penetration to her puckering hole.
Paul had spanked Portia good enough—his hand was stinging. After caressing his daughter all over, he positioned her on her hands and knees, posing her before her trembling, whimpering brother. "Suck him," he told her as he got behind her, placing his cock into her sex. Portia reluctantly took in her brother's cock and sucked him while she herself was fucked and fucked righteously hard.
And speaking of fucked and fucked righteously hard…
*
Things Sunday School Never Taught Me
Hwy 134 swept around Quarrel Mountain some 24 miles before turning suddenly into State Route 30 and was often called (by the locals who traveled it) Round Mountain Way. Then, to add to the confusion, SR30 connected briefly with Desert Hwy 14 then split going to Mishap Mountain and Gingerdale.
And as for services? Gas, food, lodging, State Highway Patrol, towing, etc. was sparse. Turquoise Village that intersected 4-Korners Korral where SR 30 and 14 met with Desert Rd. 70 up from the South and Longways Hwy from the East was the only "services" available. The next services going North from the Village was fifty miles past the Split to Vusqual; to the East was the Air Force Base, sparse housing about, small stores to support but nothing major.
Sonja Arasmess swung her late-late model station wagon around the long sweeping corner, noting the water temperature climbing-climbing-climbing. All the windows in the car were down and even the rear window on the "hatch" was raised up for air flow.
The heat of the day was just about unbearable. Just about—and traipsing about the desert-side with six children just wasn't a good idea. Somehow she had missed the turn-off to Aliforn City where she was supposed to meet with some church leaders to take her brood on a camping excursion.
"We don't have much in the way of camping supplies or anything," she had told Harold Riven, one of the leaders for the young peoples' camping trips.
"That's ok," he told her calmly, "we'll provide everything that's needed."
Sonja was relieved, since becoming a Single Parent the extras of providing for her many children had been trying. She provided well enough for what they immediately needed—clothing, food, schooling—the essentials. Extras were hard to come by and if not for the solid relationship she had with her church it would be damned impossible.
Once around the bend of the rough looking hilly mountain there was a downgrade; Sonja wisely put the shift selector into neutral and held her foot lightly over the brake, allowing the car to "idle" and coast down the lone two-lane desert highway.
Where she was, she had no idea. The mile markers gave her little idea where she was as they were written in code for the highway workers and patrol and not for the general driving public. She "felt" like she was heading south, but she couldn't be sure. The crappy mini globe directional navigator attached to the cracked brown dashboard didn't help. The water temperature gauge continued to rise to the "H".
Not one car had she seen since making the fatal turn over an hour ago.
There were two "splits" on 14, the first one sent drivers on a roundabout traverse back to the 14—it was a big circle for no particular reason. There were many off-roads to the various depleted mines in the area, but mostly Junction 14 made a 40-mile round trip on itself.
The other split from the 14 went off to the desert sand and Old South Vusquall, the first town of the northern high desert area from back in the early 1800s. Only the locals knew the differences of the "splits".
Sonja wasn't a local.
At the bottom of the grade, she put the shifter back into Drive and a red light came on on the dashboard: CHECK ENGINE. That wasn't good.
The Horrid
"I feel like shit!" quipped X-man.
"That's good," scoffed Scum, "'cause you LOOK like shit!"
A great rousing cacophony of voices erupted, with X-man giving Scum "the finger."
The day was hot, which was not unusual for any day in Summer in the high desert of Vusquall Crossing.
"We's gonna do anythin' today or just shoot shit?"
"Could go up to Bent Pines," said Booger, "might be cooler up there."
"Gettin' low on beer," said Vile.
"Gettin' low on everything," spoke up Fuckwad.
"Gonna have to make a raid, looks like," Shit-for-Brains said, sitting up and stretching.
"Might as well go do something," said Scum, "gettin' tired lookin' at yer ass."
The Horrid gang slowly motivated themselves from under the shade of a lone great oak. Vusquall Patch was a long-abandoned Mom/Pop roadside eatery taken over by the Horrid motorcycle gang. The gang had made the roadside haven their home, their hangout.
The leader of the Horrid wasn't a big bruiser, but good enough to maintain his position. For five years, he had helmed the gang and had earned their respect. He was in his mid-forties, a little gray on the temples, a little swagger to his step, and had more kills under his belt than any other member in the group.
Shit-for-Brains, the lieutenant of the group, had the second-best kill ratio; he was a big fella with a little Mexican in his blood. He had narrow, squinty eyes and once, when a State Highway Patrolman told him he was going to be ticketed for not wearing a helmet, Shit-for-Brains said, quote "fuck you and your ticket, too" and SHOVED the patrolman over his own car and down a rough embankment.
Vile held the rank of Nasty Sergeant and though he had a low kill score, he earned his position as one who was a reliable back-up and a skillful man with a variety of weapons. He gave no backlip and followed orders only from Shit or Bastard, the leader. He listened to the former leader, Xavier Miballsrbigg, leader emeritus, when seeking his counsel.
Scum was the youngest Horrid and held the rank of Sergeant last Class. Not a lot of kills under his belt, but he saved the life of Bastard during a "set-up" from a rival northern gang.
Booger held no rank, he didn't want one, but was ordained as "Mechanic Supreme." Anything that went wrong with any of the Horrid bikes and Booger was the one who scrounged for parts and made the bike rideable.
Fuckwad was the group's Command Sergeant Major. It was Fuckwad's duty to keep the others in line, keep them supplied with their needs—weapons, food, drink, pussy, whatever. He had a few "kills" notched on his belt, but he didn't brag about them or make note of same.Cockbreath was in his mid-50s and was actually the Second in Command. He had maps, he knew hiding places, he knew contacts, he knew backroads, whorehouses, and where rival gangs roamed.
Xavier Miballsrbigg had started the Horrid gang as far back as the late 50s. At the height of popularity in the late 60s and early 70s, the gang had numbers in the 50s. The main group consisted of an even dozen with others scattered about the desert and neighboring cities.
The group mounted their metal thundering rides and headed off to make a "raid" on some unsuspecting place of one kind or another. The day was hot, and what lay ahead was a virtual unknown—but the Horrid was always ready for the unexpected.
Sonja Arasmess was not prepared for the unexpected, and her 40-ish-year-old heart virtually stopped when the red light on the dash of her late-model station wagon began to flash.
"If the Check Engine light comes on," said an associate/mechanic friend of hers from her church, "but," he cautioned, "if it starts flashing, you need to stop immediately."
The Check Engine light intimidated her—and frightened her. There were no signs along the road telling her where she was or where she was going. The road snaked through Bald Snake Mountain, and the number "14" was on the white mile markers, indicating that she was still (possibly) on the desert highway, but "where" exactly, she had no idea.
The sun scorched the desert and did doubly so on the cracked paved road. On the right was Bald Snake Mountain, stretching up some hundreds of feet, craggy, chipped, and formidable. To the other side stood up smaller hills, casting off more heat like from an oven.
Wisps of smoke began to billow out from under the hood of the car, and it began to lurch and make an awful sound. This was not good. The Oil light came on, the transmission temp gauge bounced, the water temp gauge was all the way over, and the car finally died, coasting to a stop along the gravelly side designated as the emergency lane.
For a minute, Sonja sat still with rivers of sweat cascading down her neck and breasts. Her own thoughts of dread for a time drowned out the anxious voices of her children. The older ones were just as much frightened and concerned, with her oldest son, Jordan, wanting to get out and hoof it.
"You're not 'hoofing' it anywhere," spoke his Mom harshly.
"I GOTTA PEE!" announced ten-year-old Vivian.
"ME TOO!" chimed in eleven-year-old Mason.
Sonja closed her eyes, hoping that when she opened them, a state trooper would be pulling up to assist her or there would be a sign "just down the way" telling her that her destination was close.
But no; upon opening her eyes, the glare and heat of the day basted her, and she felt ill. The car's doors were opened, and the Arasmess children had bailed. It wasn't as hot (strangely) outside the car; it was just that the car offered protection from the blistering heat.
No trees, no bushes, no shrubs—just rocks. Boulders-boulders-boulders. Those who had a Pee emergency scrambled out of sight behind one of the closest boulders to do their business. Sonja sat still, realizing that she herself needed to go. She held it; her clothes were beginning to seriously dampen as her sweat accumulated more and more. The air in the car was stifling, almost taking her out.
"Mom?" asked her oldest child, Daphne.
"Mom?"
"Mom?"
"MOM?"
The panicky shriek of Daphne finally brought Sonja around, and after a moment, she finally moved out of the car. It had to be 115 degrees—at least. No water, no food. It was supposed to be a simple jaunt to take the kids to the staging area.
Looking over her bedraggled family,
"Where's Olan?"
Daphne blushed and nodded to a jutting boulder.
Calligh and Vivian slumped against a boulder that was in the shade, fanning themselves with their short, proper dresses according to their faith. Usually, Sonja would warn her children of such an act, as the act of fanning to cool themselves also revealed themselves...
And Sonja knew it must be hot 'cause boys Jordan and Mason weren't fighting. It was too hot to fight. It was too hot to do anything, and it was only 2 o'clock in the blessed afternoon! She was supposed to have met with the deacon by eleven.
Being late wouldn't that make them wonder and possibly worry? Wouldn't the police, or state patrol be notified, and a search conducted? Didn't the state patrol have airplanes and helicopters?
Just as Olan came from around the boulder, zipping up, did Sonja hear a thunderous noise. Scanning the skies for a helicopter, Sonja prayed for help. She got a Busy Signal instead.
The "thunder" was not in the sky but on the road.
A small black mass of thundering destruction roared up the road, taking over both lanes.
"GET IN THE CAR!" yelled Sonja. The startled children were frozen for a moment, but the approaching thunder motivated them; young Vivian stumbled, of course, and had to be scooped up by Calliegh. Meanwhile, Sonja furiously fought to re-start the car that had cooled down some. The lights continued to flicker, but Sonja threw the gear selector into reverse and tromped on the gas pedal.
Not a lot of guff did the worn-out family car have, but it did move.
The encroaching thunder drew closer—closer—and closer.
Sonja whipped the wheel and turned the car, facing the opposite direction, yanking the gear select to Drive and once more tromping on the gas pedal.
The old car belched some hideous smoke and moved at a staggering ten miles per. The thundering doom came through the black smoke, sniggering and bellowing, bashing their dreadful machines into the car; a rider had a chain and broke out the rolled-up windows on the passenger side. Sonja yanked the gear selector to D1 in hopes of giving the transmission more power 'cause there was no power in the engine—then she whipped the wheel to one side, sending the biker with the chain sailing over the dirt berm into a boulder.
The hill that Sonja had cruised down in neutral minutes earlier slowed the car to five miles per; a huge, burly, dirty, disgusting biker jumped onto the hood of the car and, grabbing the windshield wiper, hung on while bashing the windshield with a chain.
Sonja tried to steer the car one way, but the mass of bikers had her surrounded, and the car was moving less than five miles per. The biker on the hood stood and "whipped it out"; his cock, and began pissing through the broken windshield.
"Git outta the car, bitch," seethed the biker, "or we'll drag you out."
Sonja Arasmess, Pentecostal mother of six, freaked out, screamed, and had to be dragged out of the car—all the while her six children watched in horror.Various Horrid members grappled with the Arasmess family, dragging them out and standing them up against the car to "watch" as Shit-for-Brains did his thing.
The first thing was dropping his heavily soiled pants. No undies. His skin was leathery tan and in need of a serious washing. His manly manhood stuck out some inches and up against the struggling Sonja it did go. The Horrid gang erupted into a chorus of maniacal laughter, watching as the flailing Sonja's eyes bulged at the presence—penetration of Shit's massive 8-incher.
Sergeant Last Class Scum held fifteen-year-old Daphne to him, close; his grubby, grimy hands went up and down her terrified body—twice she stomped on his feet, but the man wore heavy-duty leather boots, and the impact of the girl's stomp was barely noticeable.
Sonja grunted as she was reamed—and seared. Shit-for-Brains howled, gripped her ass hips, and plowed heavily (and hastily) bashing himself against the petrified woman with gusto.
Nasty Sergeant Vile eyed the boys, Olan and Mason—twelve and eleven respectively. With a quirky smile and narrowing eyes, he said, "Strip 'em."
Scum and Booger grappled with the boys, virtually ripping their clothes off. The boys struggled and tried to fight, but they were underpowered for the more powerful Horrids. Once naked, they were heavily swatted on the ass, with Olan being hefted up onto the car—his shredded clothes placed there so as not to scorch his blistered bum. Then, "Suck him."
Sonja's mind was already blitzed—and upon hearing the command "suck him," she went further into oblivion.
Bastard leaned in to whisper into her ear, "Suck him, or I'll cut 'em off!"
This didn't help. Sonja began to retch and very nearly hurl.
Fuckwad struck the woman's well-fucked ass with a biker chain.
Somehow, Sonja Arasmess partook of her twelve-year-old son's schlong. The boy was shocked—as was the rest of his watching family. For a time, the intense heat was of no consequence. The windshield bounced off the sun's heat tenfold, virtually baking the boy's backside; his hands got burnt as he steadied himself, legs open, cock being sucked...In the bright day of sunlight, the full viewing of Dolly and Erica was right there for the enjoyment of viewing. Keith's little eight-year-old penis was very, very erect.
"Do you know how to fuck?" Mack asked.
Keith turned red—redder than what Mother Nature was cooking him.
"Would you like to FUCK your sister?"
Keith's mind was about to explode—so much so that he really couldn't answer. But, yeah—yeah he did, he DID want to fuck his sister. He wasn't particularly sure of all exactly how to go about it, but he knew the general concept.
And Erica, too—yeah, he wanted to fuck her for sure.
But it was hot—sweltering hot.
Keith got up against his sister and once more began to rub his aching cock against her super-fine tweeny butt. On instruction from Mack, though,
"Put it between the cheeks."
Keith did so, and that was okay briefly.
Thing was—it was fucking hot!
The EMAD thingy was okay and had worked well in the beginning. But the oppressive heat made the mental connection a little trying. No matter, guile, forceful vocal commands, and balls kept the three kids in line, and upon seeing the nice—cool—refreshing water, they didn't worry about its depth or anything else. Gleefully and readily, they jumped into the water—from the lip of the blistering hot sand and rocky surface surrounding the amazing pond to the surface was some six feet or so. Mack stripped off his clothing, and no one seemed to notice...
"Bob-bob-bob, splash-splash-slash and a couple of nods up and down; no one's safe after they say grace--when the tin man blows into town." Sung to the tune of The Wizard of Jiz (er, Oz). Well, it was better than the relentless-mindless "Marco!" to wit answered the chorus "Polo!" The kids' cares floated away on the ripples formed in the secluded pond; the day's hours were wearing down, and more than once did Mack the girls to come "sit on his lap" and ride the magic donkey...
Erica was the only one who "claimed" to have touched the bottom of the pool. Once out, the girl was once more positioned on her hands and knees; the day was less warm—there still was no air movement, but it was less stifling than it had been. The nearest paved road was some twenty miles away.
Once more, and Keith was up against his sister's best friend, rubbing his young penis all over her ass. His sister, Dolly, lay on her back, naked, legs open, fingering herself methodically while unknowingly masturbating Mack. Keith didn't pay that route much attention and settled to making anal attempt entry. He firstly had to "probe" the girl's hole with his finger—then his tongue, applying a bit of spit before fully making hay.
Once he was in—there was no stopping him. Erica's hole was "tight" and virginal. The boy made dutiful entry, humping tenaciously for several minutes before experiencing something relatively close to an orgasm. At eight years young, though, the boy only had the briefest notion of what a true orgasm was about.
Keith would hump Erica's asshole two more times before Mack took his turn. The boy also "broke-in" his own sister but humped her pussy instead of her asshole—this after discovering the savory indulgence of cunnilingus. He had heard of "eating out at the Y" but didn't know particularly its exact reference.
Erica made a face and wasn't sure about the ordeal, either.
Dolly had moved from handling Mack's cock to sucking it.
Vusquall Desert didn't "cool off" until hours after sunset. Then it really cooled off until a couple hours after sunrise. Go figure. Anyways, despite his young age, Keith Molina had amazing stamina—in the hard cock department. After multiple penetrations to his sister and Erica, the boy amazingly managed to maintain a suitable boner. Mack liked—a lot!
Keith James Molina had long silky hair of dirt brown; brown eyes, and had more than his share of scars. Optimum word there—had. After a dunking in the mysterious remote pool, those scars were gone. So were the numerous knicks, bruises, scratches, and scrapes. All gone.
Whether the boy enjoyed humping-penetrating his sister or her best friend wasn't clear. Nor did it matter. Pussy, asshole, mouth—it was all good, and both girls gave the youngster "good feelings." Those "good feelings" ensured his drive; instilled upon him that like being hooked on some drug, sex was his main goal in life.
He was less thrilled with Mack fondling him, sucking him, and very much less enthused with being buggered himself. His sister and Erica watched as he was bum-robbed on his hands and knees, then on his back, then—THEN sitting on the man's lap at the small campfire. It was then and there the girls had to suck the boy's cock, lick-suck his balls, and one-more-time take his little boy dick to their pussy and/or asshole before laying down to sleep for the night.
Dinner had consisted of hotdogs—without the buns and lots of sodas. Usually, the kids weren't allowed to have multiple sodas or so late at night. But there was a reason, and shortly before midnight, it was Dolly who arose first for the Call of Nature's Need.
The young girl sat up, looking a little more than simply confused. Her hair was all mussed up, eyes still very sleepy, but the pressure of her bladder motivated her to sit up and get her bearings.
The EMAD had initially walloped the kids well enough, but for some inexplicable reason, it failed. The unit itself showed that it was working; it even revealed the fact that there was a "link" from the minding device to the kids' minds, but that was all.
But that was okay, Mack used simple force of severe discipline should the kids disobey OR run off. Fear was also a great motivator to keep someone in line without the use of restraints. Still, though—
Mack slept lightly, the kids got the use of most of the blankets he had brought along, so he had one army blanket to cover him, prompting him to keep close to the small campfire—but not too close so as to disrupt his visual check on Dolly, Erica, and Keith.
"Gotta pee?" he asked Dolly.
The young girl was still confused, brushed some loose strands of hair out of her face, farted, then nodded. Mack smiled and took her hands, standing her up—then moving her off to one side of their small camp.
"Spread your legs," he told the young girl.
Dolly stretched slightly, shook her head as if to try and clear it, had a face of severe confusion and extreme tiredness. But she spread open her stance, and soon commenced to peeing—the remarkable science of gravity took over, allowing the girl's bladder to become gladder. Three sodas, a bottle of water, and Dolly Jane Molina had a piss storm five minutes after midnight! She tooted, too. She didn't care and didn't particularly be aware that a naked man with a raging hard-on was holding her hands while she stood butt naked in some area of the desert peeing.
After returning Dolly to where she had been sleeping, tucking her in so to speak, it was her best friend, Erica's turn. The golden brown-haired girl was equally confused and easily manipulated—she came to stand inches from where her friend had peed. Dolly had beginnings of pubic hairs coming in on her young cunt—friend Erica maintained an absolute smooth hairless cunt. Mack fingered the cunt, rubbed/caressed the ass, and enjoyed immensely the act of seeing a girl pee (while standing up!)
Once back under her own covers, Keith shot his head up, announcing, "I gotta pee, too!"
Mack smiled and took him by the hands...Dolly was the first to receive his love tool; despite her brother having fucked her repeatedly, the pussy was still tight—snug-snug-snug. That was okay with Mack, he glided his hot rocket against the girl's pocket then made respectful penetration.
Dolly gripped the hot sand beneath her, gasped aloud, bulged her pretty eyes and couldn't believe the audacity of the naked vile man. She arched her back and wriggled; Mack caressed her ass, slapped/spanked her ass, and slid most of his manly manhood into her ass for a duty-free fuck fest.
The oppressive heat was oppressive. The air was heavy-laden, making even the simplest tasks, like breathing, difficult. Tied to wooden stakes impaled into the hard, hot ground, naked and spread-eagled, made breathing near impossible. Sonja "her ass in a mess" Arasmess struggled to breathe, think, and live.
Fifteen-year-old Daphne tried, tried, tried to "keep it together". As a budding artist, she had learned somewhat to remember details—she hoped and prayed that when it was over, she would be able to give authorities exact descriptions of the horrible biker gang. But as the hot day(s) wore on and the outlandish sexual abuse continued to perpetuate, Daphne's mind began to unravel. The more she was a captive of the Horrid, the more she became compliant. Mostly, at first, it was to save her family—like when her thirteen-year-old sister, Calliegh, had to put her mouth around the tailpipe of one of the Horrid motorcycles—if Daphne didn't comply with the Horrid wishes, then the biker sitting on the motorcycle would turn on the motor.
Calliegh, too, was assaulted while her mouth was around the exhaust port of the bike; already her young teen naked body was seared by the sun; she got the belt from one of the bikers, then was roughly sodomized by as many as five others before she passed out. When she awoke from a wash of several bikers urinating on her, she was once more placed to suck on the leader's bike.
So Daphne sucked off the leader of the Horrid; then sucked on two more men before giving lip service to her brothers, Jordon, Olan, and Mason. All three boys were cummers, but at the time of being sucked on by their sister, they had already engaged sexually with their sisters AND Mother. Olan and Mason had sodomized one another after admitting loudly that they did so at home, too.
Daphne barely managed to get Olan "off". Jordon and Mason were cummed out—so they all were spanked with motorcycle chains until Daphne passed out. Young Olan rushed one of the bikers and was backhanded so hard he lost consciousness in midair as he was flung backwards, slamming up against a boulder.
Mason and Jordon charged the disgustingly naked, hairy biker called "Scum", and it was quite hilarious (for Scum's cohorts) to watch two naked young boys try and take the six-foot-six man down. Mason did manage to grab Scum's cock and balls and give as mighty a squeeze as he could. Jordon got one of the wooden stakes used to secure his Mom and stabbed it into Scum's backside.
The laughter was over with Shit-for-Brains and Fuckwad jumping in to save their stalwart companion. Shit secured Mason, flinging the naked boy over the hot seat of a motorcycle and whipping him with a greasy bike chain; Fuckwad managed to pin Jordon against a boulder and promptly sodomize the fourteen-year-old righteously.
The breath of life was slowly ebbing away from Sonja as she watched the horrible torment unto her children. "DAMN YOU!" she exclaimed in an unquavering voice. "DAMN YOU TO HELL!"
It was highly uncharacteristic of the religious woman to curse so; her wrists and ankles were rubbed raw and bleeding as she wrestled against the tight rope bindings. The biker gang paused; then,
"Lady, that's where we're from!"
Laughter all around erupted from the gang as Xavier Miballsrbigg, Leader Emeritus, made his comment. The torment to the Arasmess family was really—only beginning.
Olan Arasmess twitched as he lay slumped against the boulder, then slowly slumped even more.
"Hey," said Cockbreath, squatting down, "I think this little fucker's dead."
Vile, Nasty Sergeant, grabbed up a hold of the boy's thick, dirty hair, slamming the head back into the rock. He squinted at the boy and stared, stared, stared.
"He ain't breathin'," said Vile, "fucker must be dead."
Second-in-Command Cockbreath shook his head, "Damn shame, I didn't get the chance to fuck him!"
"Well, shit," chortled Vile, "you'll just have to hump one of the others twice!"
The "others" referenced were just about done in themselves; they lay twitching on the hot sand with Olan gasping for breath.
"You fucking bitches wanna live thru this," said Bastard, leader of the Horrid, "and you don't wanna be like yer brothers," he waved his hand slowly to the dead and dying boys, "then you best behave and do what the fuck is told you to do."
Daphne retched and then hurled.
Calliegh whimpered, and Vivian curled up into a tight fetal position.
"OH, GOD!" screamed out into the bleak night Calliegh. A biker was in her asshole—all the way in her asshole. Another grungy scum-sucking dirt bag was in her pussy—all the way into her thirteen-year-old pussy. Laying on her side in the still very warm dirt, the girl was hammered doubly so. The desert air was cooling, there was a half-moon hanging listlessly just two hands up from the horizon. The poor girl had no idea where she was, there were some old, old, old buildings to one side, the remains of some other buildings on the other. A fence that supposedly served at one time as a corral; there were some trees, but in the dark, she wasn't sure what kind they were.
Vivian was on her hands and knees with a biker plowing her sweet young ass from behind her—a bike chain fashioned around her neck like a dog collar.
Two other bikers double-teamed Daphne, while another biker beat Mason's ass while he fucked his unconscious Mother. The campfire flickered, creating odd shapes on the surrounding boulders; the cries of the Arasmess family, the nighttime creatures, the burping-farting-laughing of the grunting, grungy Horrid allowed for twelve-year-old Olan to "slip away."
He wasn't missed until hours later when night segued into day and Bastard noted the supposed "dead boy" gone.
"Git yer fucking sorry asses up!" he bitched, kicking naked bikers at his disposal. "One of them's got away, go git him!" he barked loudly (and angrily.)
"An' don't fuckin' comes back until you got 'im!" added Xavier.
Several bikers pulled their clothes on and began their search.
Thing was, though, Olan hadn't "slipped away" after all...
He didn't know why what was happening was happening and felt badly that his new best pal, Paul, wasn't along to enjoy it. It wasn't intended, the capture and seduction of Dolly, Erica, and Keith. It hadn't been planned. He did send a message to his pal that he was Ok and still on a mission seeking out the disturbance in the Force. Paul was worried and concerned but was assured that all was ok.
After one more round with Dolly, her brother, and Erica, Mack ditched them at a rest stop on the other side of an air force base, then took a desert dirt road north from that base further out into the rugged desert hills. The vintage WWII jeep handled the "trail" easily, taking him up to the five-hundred-foot hill known to the locals as Suvack-Crystal Mountain, part of an ancient volcano.
Fuck if it wasn't hot! Thankfully there was plenty of water, and not too far off, there was the dump site for Cubeck City, then the golf course. Cubeck City was a small-small town and not much in the way of a "city". It was good for retired people and those who liked a little warmth to their cold souls. The golf course was ok, there were two public swimming pools, and all the homes had some sort of a pool in the backyard.
Desert Hwy 14 was just beyond, a dingy, equally ancient trailer park, a larger "city" more suited for travelers to the south. A whole lot of nothing but searing hot, rugged boulders, canyons, depressions, a roving biker gang, some mines, small mining towns, and all points north to the mountain communities, state border towns, casinos, all places much, much cooler.
But where he was currently was nowhere near being cool.
His thought processes, though, kept him bound up. There was a disturbance in the Force. He couldn't explain it, but something—somewhere, was amiss. Definitely.
It was too hot to wait and figure it out—whatever was wrong wasn't going to come to him; he was going to have to get motivated and go find it himself. As he "motivated" the jeep down the steep decline of the ancient volcano to the flat desertscape, he knew that he shouldn't go it alone. After refreshing himself with a brew and another brew in Cubec City, he made another call home.
"Bring the van."
He didn't know why, but he "just had a feeling." Go with the Force, it's the best feeling there is.
"I think we should start heading back," Bradley said, coming around the great boulder. She finished zipping up and buttoning up—catching the wary eye of her young friend, Josh. Other friend, Melody, nodded in agreement.
"Why does the desert gotta be so hot!"
Bradley wasn't even going to attempt answering that one. Sometimes her friend personified the "blond" stereotype. But then again, too, Melody often made jokes at her own expense and/or made references no one else got. It confused Bradley (and everyone else). She let it go, mopped her brow and neck, then collected her daypack.
"You think Old Benny was pulling our leg?"
Bradley adjusted the daypack and somewhat regretted the long trek back to the ranch, a good two hours' walk away. Although they had hiked some six hundred feet up to the rocky ridge—it wasn't any cooler at that elevation—in fact, it was hotter!
"I dunno," Bradley replied to Josh, "maybe."
"A hidden pool would be great to find right about now," Melody commented.She fanned herself with her shirt soaked with sweat and poured water from her canteen.
"You'd better hold on to some of that water," Bradley cautioned, "we've got a long way back to go."
Melody nodded but felt refreshed by the water drenching her anyway.
"We should have taken our horses," Melody somewhat grumbled.
"Too hot, this climb would not have been good for them."
"It's not good for us!" commented Josh.
The trio turned, with sixteen-year-old Bradley Maceti leading the way back down the twisting path to the hot desert floor; fifteen-year-old friend Melody Christon followed, with thirteen-year-old Josh Bieutumph taking up the rear. His young eyes (and cock) focused solely on Melody's tight ass.
The small group of friends who worked at a nearby dude ranch wound their way down, having missed the pool they sought by a few minutes' walk north.
The trek down, of course, was much faster than the trek up. Old Benny, the resident Indian of the ranch, spewed forth great stories of Indian lore, including the one about a mysterious hidden pool that had miraculous healing powers.
A cold shower was going to feel great. Some lemonade, something from the kitchen, then maybe a walk away from the horseshit with "Bo" Rivers, the resident cowboy. Bo was barely 20, while Bradley was sixteen (and a half) years young. He kind of liked her, or so she thought (and hoped); they did dance together, and as far as she knew, he wasn't hanging with any other girls.
Melody had thoughts on a cold shower, too; then a snack in the dining room and then hanging with some of the others who worked at the ranch, as well as some of the visitors she had gotten to know.
Josh wanted to go for a swim—after having a bite at the dining hall, too. Next time, he was taking his horse—fuck walking!
The trio made the last turn before the thirty-minute walk to the ranch.
It was the last thing any of them remembered clearly.
Rude awakenings
Secured securely to the old rickety fence post (that wasn't so rickety that she couldn't break it and be free), Melody Christon was in fits. The air was hot—damn hot; she was tied up (to the rickety fence post); and after so long a time—she had to pee.
Which was, of course, the kidnapper's desire.
"Piss your pants (for me)," the man hoarsely whispered.
"Go fuck yourself!" Melody exclaimed. She was frightened and well scared and concerned for her welfare, but had enough fight in her to resist the sorry sonofabitch who wanted some sort of cheap thrill.
"Suit yourself," seethed the man who pressed his body against her.
Melody fought off the confusion in her head; closed her eyes tightly and hoped that when she opened them, she would be at the ranch.
No such luck.
Her head hurt, it was hella hot, she was hungry, and tied up to an old rickety fence "somewhere" in the desert ridge that ran most the length of the desert. It was hard to breathe—harder still due to the circumstances of being kidnapped, tied up, and some creep of a man wanting her to pee herself.
Before her were Bradley and Josh.
Bradley was on her hands and knees, Josh was off to one side. There seemed to be another man, too. Melody's mind was cooked, it was so hot, there was no air to breathe or cool her. Suddenly,
Bradley let out a loud yelp—she let out the loud yelp 'cause the man who wanted Melody to pee smacked her ass with a belt. Melody's eyes bulged; she struggled even more so to breathe and comprehend, exclaiming,
"WHAT THE FUCK!?"
Another smack followed by another, and the belt-wielding man came up to Melody, saying, "Piss your pants, sweetie, or she gets more and then some."
"You sick fucking bastard!" exclaimed Melody.
The man smiled, "Thank you for noticing!" He smacked the belt in the air, making it snap. "Now, it's up to you," the man continued, pressing himself more and more against the teen, including his hand to her crotch, "it's up to you if your friend gets more attention."
Melody's neck tightened—she hadn't pissed her pants since she was a kid.
The belt cracked again and smacked Bradley's ass (again), prompting Melody to do what she hadn't done since she was five. And once the flow began to flee, there was literally no stopping it. The relief felt terrific, but the embarrassment was something else to deal with.
Melody twisted and was aghast after pissing her pants; the horrible man undid her pants, peeling back the flap—then, to add to her horror, he began fingering her.
'Calm yourself.'
Melody shook her head as something vile she had mistakenly eaten. The air was incredibly hot, she was tired, stinky, but then—then she began to feel better. Her mind went blank and—and she was "calm."
Mack sighed and continued fingering the girl out.
Young Josh Bieutumph stared in utter awe—with a boner staring, too.
Paulie waited, sweated profusely, and marveled highly at the abilities of the minding device.
Down came Melody's pants.
Down came Mack's pants.
The summer sun was cooking them (all), so the time spent was to be a lengthy endeavor. Melody was calm, Bradley was freaking out with horror. Josh had a boner that wouldn't quit, Paulie was ready to fuck boulders.
While Mack continued to play with Melody, Paulie and Josh took their attention to Bradley. Josh was unsecured and, after being told by Mack, "take off your clothes," did so. The young teen then came up to Bradley, who had come to be on her knees. The naked Paul stood before her, masturbating blatantly, smiling all the while. Bradley was horrified and not smiling.
"Suck him," Mack said, after he had lowered Melody's panties and fed the girl more water.
Bradley resisted, but with the threat of being spanked some more and then one (or both of the others) treated the same until she did—she did.
"Is this your first blowjob giving?" Mack asked as he waited for Melody's bladder to refill.
Bradley was pissed but sucked on the second man's gangly, somewhat misshapen cock. She managed to shake her head, indicating "No." Loose strands of her brown hair were pasted to her face; the girl was sixteen and had a decent body for her age—a little taller than most in her peer group, but she was average other than that. And a nice tight butt, too!
Josh got the task of undoing Bradley's pants (and taking them down.)
Mack asked Melody if she were a virgin.
Answer: No.
Mack was pleased, sort of.
"In the ass?" Mack continued.
That was reported as a solid NO.
She didn't give head, either.
Melody's "first time" came when she was nigh but twelve years young! Experimental with a neighbor boy of the same age. One time only. Her second experience was with a high school boy when she was in junior high. One time with him, too. The third time was with one of the guests at the dude ranch she worked at. He was seventeen; suave, a caballero, very dashing, and a good fuck.
When Melody's bladder was finally full, she was once more talked into releasing the pressure therein. It thrilled Mack and disgusted Bradley. Josh was a little awed, and after he had gotten Bradley's pants (and panties) down, he got to get his nakedness up against the teen and "put it in her."
The thing was, though, it was up to his discretion "where" to put it in her.
Meanwhile, Paulie was filling the teenager's mouth with his gangly, odd-shaped schlong, as well as with a bountiful amount of man jiz. Bradley made faces, but engulfed all of the love tool and its squirting cream.
Josh poked Bradley's asshole and realized that it WAS her asshole. Although the boy had heard of "sodomy" and all its associative nomenclatures. But poke the hole he did before settling on dragging the head of his prick against the girl's cunt. Then he somewhat clumsily, if not awkwardly, made insertion.
Once in, though, the natural instinct of fucking took over, and all the way into her sex he went. Natural instinct continued with the pumping action. Josh's hands locked onto the girl's hips, and the harshness of the desert, being kidnapped, forced into submission mattered not. The sun baked his bare skin, but the humping was all that mattered.
A long, steady stream of pee began to spew from Melody's cunt. The flow showered the man's cock who leaned against her; her shirt and bra had been undone, with her western girlie shirt taken down to her bound hands. The girl remained "calm" and pissed up quite a storm.
Paul had cum and then some in Brad's mouth. Afterwards, he took his cock and humped the teenager's face. Josh had fucked two-three minutes before unleashing his own torrent of love cream. It was the most fantastic thing ever! He had, of course, jerked off ever since finding out how fucking fantastic it was to do so. But actually sticking his cock into a girl's cunt and cumming off therein—wow!
a terrible thing happened to a family (it was Horrid)
A little further away...
Jordon Arasmess humped with all his might; his backside had been blistered by biker chain and the searing hot summer sun for failure to complete his task twice, and he hadn't much umph left in him. But if he didn't cum this time—
"One of yer fuckin' sisters will get it!"
The breath of the Horrid biker breathed right into Jordon's ear and into his brain, creating an image the fourteen-year-old Arasmess didn't want to see. His sisters, Daphne, Calliegh, and Vivian, had already suffered greatly at the hands of the despicable bikers, and to have them stricken by biker chain, fan belts, and basted by the sun as he had just wouldn't do.
So he fucked his Mom—fucked his Mom—fucked his Mom, striving to cum. Under duress, he had had to admit his sexual improprieties—screwing his sister Daphne, humping the ass of his other sisters. A girl in his social; another girl a little younger—
"How young?" asked Shit-for-Brains.
"Francine Betterman," Jordon replied.
"That's not what I asked!" yelled Shit, and he struck the boy with the broken fan belt across the lad's legs.Jordon arched his back and cried, then cried out, "Ten, she was fucking ten, you fucking freak!"
Whether or not his Mom heard or his surrounding siblings heard the admission was not clear. Jordon temporarily lost his ability to keep fucking his Mom and was stunned to horrified that he had admitted his secret.
"An', uh, jest how freaking old were you?" asked a grizzled, hard-calloused Fuckwad.
"It was last year," cried the boy, straining as he remained arched, naked, arms stretched out trembling as he lay on his Mom, naked, "couple days after my birthday." (making him fourteen at the time.) Atta boy!
Jordon Arasmess finally managed to cum (in his Mom's cunt). Afterwards, he had to scoot up to straddle her chest, lay his cock between her big momma tits and hump there. Momma Arasmess was unaware. She babbled incoherently, tossed her head side to side and lay stretched out on the grungy ground at the biker's hangout.
Every time one of the scruffy bikers needed to pee, he came staggering over to piss onto Sonja Arasmess' face. Horrid biker "Booger" did just that as Jordon lightly humped the space between his Mom's tits. After he finished peeing, he stood stroking his cock, staring at the handsome teen, then he smiled (farted) and straddled the woman's head, pulling the skin of his dick back.
"Suck it," he commanded.
Jordon had sucked his brothers, licked out his sisters' cunts, licked the butt hole of his sisters, and sucked the leader of the biker gang—but it wasn't a preferred thing to do, and the man's cock was not overly "clean."
"Suck it, bitch—or take it in the ass!" he seethed and chortled.
That was even less appealing. Some choice! The mouth—or the ass.
With the shaking of his head and tight-lipped closed mouth, the choice was made, and Jordon had to "turn around." How many Horrid bikers had fucked his ass already he couldn't remember—the whole event of being in with the bikers was hard enough. His face was pushed down onto his Mom's cunt—it was funky and yucky with his fresh spilled cum mixed with the previous fuckings by his other brothers and of course the Horrid.
Jordon's ass was fondled, squeezed hard by the fucker who was going to fuck it. The day was just about done—and so was Jordon. He had no fight in him, and what fight he had had earlier had been beaten out of him. His balls went into his Mom's mouth, and Booger began sliding his cock into the boy's hole.
Horrid biker Xavier came to nestle himself between the woman's legs—her legs spread out wide with ankles tied to iron railroad spikes spiked into the hard-packed desert ground. He was mostly naked, grungy, grimy, and equipped with a huge hard cock. The sixty-something-year-old Used to Be Leader (of the Horrid) slammed his cock into the woman and pumped hard for a minute or so—then pulled out and slammed himself into Jordon's mouth (after all.) But Jordon hadn't been asked if he wanted to suck or take it in the ass.
Jordon thrashed about as the leader emeritus filled his mouth, not allowing him to back away, and the other biker plowing hard in his ass. There was retching and gagging, and the pain in his hole was reaching limits.
Suddenly,
Booger went into convulsions and did his own thrashing.
Xavier Miballsrbigg stared at his underling with bulging eyes. His tongue darted in and out of his mouth as if he were a dog. The fleeting rays of the summer sun made for shadows in the lone biker gang's hideout—somewhat shielding the exact cause mannerisms of the two grungy bikers.
Shit-for-Brains and Vile smoked a joint and swigged on some hard liquor; Fuckwad and another biker sat nakedly swaying as their minds were fucked up with something more harsh than marijuana and booze.
Only Bastard, current leader of the Horrid, noticed something was wrong. He stared and stared, then watched as Booger fell to the ground with his hands to his throat, gasping for air—blood trickling through his fingers.
"What the fuck?" Bastard asked a rhetorical question. An arrow ripped through the air, grazing his head (but piercing his ear). He stood up, stunned, and watched as Xavier also fell to the ground, sputtering blood out of his mouth, gasping for air.
Too much booze and happy smoke prevented the current leader from fully grasping what was going on. Jordon Arasmess didn't know, either, but saw what looked like an arrow through the neck of the old previous leader.
"Hey!" sputtered Bastard as he narrowed his eyes and saw an arrow in Booger's throat. "What the fu--"
Another air ripped the sullen air and pierced his throat right at the gullet. Another arrow struck him in the chest, propelling him backwards and pinning him to the one tree in the biker's encampment.
Jordon jumped up to his feet—which was unfortunate timing as he got in the way of another arrow destined to finish off the Horrid leader. The arrow ripped through the young teen's body cleanly but left the boy with an even more traumatic trauma than it already had!
From their vantage point, Ben Redmoon and Tonga let fly their arrows. Through the years, they had taken out various members of the Horrid gang—this was the first time that they had ever had such success. It was unfortunate, though, that they hadn't been able to prevent such destruction to the Arasmess family. One of the boys had managed to escape (earlier); but he hadn't really, but the Horrid thought he had and scrounged about the desert seeking him out.
Most of the Horrid took off on their bikes; others scurried about on foot. "He can't have gotten off far!" bitched the former leader, Xavier. It was devilishly hot, the rocks and desert surroundings made trekking anywhere formidable to say the least.Then the other girl whacked the horse off until he orgasmed, shooting a massive load of horse cum all over the other girl's willing cunt.
The girls would press the horse's dick to one another, trying to get the head into the crevice of the friend. Not much luck there, but there was a lot of fun in trying!
Mack thought Bradley would be a good "addition" to his group, too. And of course, Melody would be more than welcomed.
But, back to that "disturbance" in the Force. Something strange held his attention—he didn't know what, but it was a distraction. One more round with Bradley and Melody—and Josh, then their young minds were affected by the EMAD and they were put to sleep. Mack and Paul hit a bar and contemplated the mysteries of life over pretzels.
"Why don't we ever see baby pigeons?"
"What's the difference between 'partly sunny' and 'partly cloudy'?"
"When you are bored at breakfast, you read the cereal box. When you are bored on an elevator, you have the option of letting one rip or reading the elevator-inspection certificate, which in most lifts is posted inside the elevator and includes not only emergency procedures but specified weight and passenger capacities."
"In most civilized societies where elevators are in high usage, it is a crime or a civil violation to overload an elevator."
Really? Just how exactly are these rules enforced? Are there elevator police conducting spot "weight traps?" Are the local constabularies corralling hordes of unsuspecting citizens at the end of their lift journey and putting them on cattle scales? Is Interpol using those electric eyes on security elevators doing head counts?
"Furthermore, who is legally responsible for the overloaded lift? The last person to enter the elevator? The other people for allowing the last person? And if you are on an elevator going up (or down as the case may be), are you responsible for knowing the weight of your fellow passengers?"
"A guy goes to a sex shop to buy a blow-up doll. He tells the guy behind the counter, 'I want a doll with long blond hair and a big cunt.' When he gets home and blows it up, it's got a bald head and a 10-inch cock. Immediately, he returns to the shop and says, 'You fucking asshole, this doll is bald and has a 10-inch cock!' The guy behind the counter says, 'You idiot, it's inside out!'"
Whatever had "disturbed" Mack wasn't known. By the time he and Paul stumbled out of the desert bar, the "feeling" had lapsed and gone entirely. The two men made for the nearest hotel and crashed there until noon the following day. After a shower, lunch, and some aspirin, they headed for home (with their "extras" in tow).
If Mack had turned "left" on the desert highway, he would have eventually found the source and cause of his "disturbance." All around a remote hideout lay the Horrid biker gang—arrows piercing their throats and impaled into their chests multiple times.
Bastard, the current leader of the Horrid, had five arrows in his chest, one in his throat, and one that took off his left ear. He actually remained alive long enough to watch the rest of his gang perish.
Shit-for-Brains, the lieutenant for the Horrid, took an arrow in the eye and two in the chest before collapsing, grasping for breath.
Vile, Nasty Sergeant for the gang, took three arrows to the throat.
Sergeant Last Class, Scum, took a single arrow in the mouth—after a wayward arrow pierced his groin, making him yell out in anguish.
Booger, no rank but rank enough, took a single arrow in the throat, one in the eye, and an arrow through the chest, pinning him to the old shed that served as their hideout home.
Fuckwad, the Command Sergeant Major, received a flurry of arrows as he saw what was happening and tried to make a run for it on foot—and naked. A swarm of arrows pricked his bare backside, his ass, legs, and back.
Two other unnamed biker maggots met their fate, falling off the edge of the ridge to topple a hundred feet down, to lay in a crumbled (dead) heap.
The former leader, Xavier Miballsrbigg, coughed and sputtered as arrows guided their way into his neck, ripping through his scrawny, beaten body, and one right into his head.
Second-in-Command, Cockbreath, had stood in defiance of the assault and brought to bear a shotgun. He managed a couple of shots off, striking Sonja and Calliegh. The two Indians, Ben Redmoon and Tonga, stood up from where they had been lauding their assault and peppered the half-naked biker with the remaining arrows they had.
Cockbreath dropped his shotgun, fell back against the lone building, and made some sort of blood-filled guttural sound before slumping to the ground, finished as a Horrid biker.
"I think we got 'em," Ben Redmoon said.
Tonga patted his crossbow, saying, "Done and done."
Ben Redmoon sighed, looking over the carnage. There were no survivors, save one of the Arasmess family, Daphne Jane Arasmess. The two Indians eased down to the slaughter, securing the lone survivor and then assessing the situation, coming to the conclusion that the Horrid would probably not be using their bikes. Tonga smiled, as the sale of the biker gang's bikes would go a long way in helping his people.They showered together in a regular shower cubicle—all four somewhat to mostly willingly participating in the group therapy session. They knew—including Freddie, that they were not themselves. There was apparently nothing that they could do about it, though. They knew that they had had their minds waylaid by quite possibly a minding device of some kind.
They were, in essence, aware of their situation but were unable not to participate (or fight back). There was nothing to do but to participate and go with the flow regardless of how it made them feel. The embarrassment of being naked and being naked with their friends was a big issue and a difficult one to overcome.
Of course, engaging in sexual improprieties was equally difficult.
For the Shady Tree Garage Door Gang, though, it was only the beginning. Firstly, Freddie went on to be sexually inappropriate with newcomers Bradley and Melody. Newcomer Josh Bieutumph went on to do likewise with the Garage Door players.
The boys were mostly willing—the girls? not so much. The girls, though, were submissive and accepted their fate; the exceptions were Carly and Bradley whereas the minding device did not one hundred percent control them. They needed a little "disciplinarian" action (spanking) to bring them in line. Carly immediately fell into accepting her fate; Bradley was a holdout and despite her spanking.
Still disturbed by the "disturbance", Mack brooded. When the daily report mentioned that an entire family had recently disappeared with absolutely no sign of where they had gone—Mack wondered if the disturbance he had felt and the missing family were related.
Not a lot of time was spent with the "replacements"; he still pined for the previous inhabitants but found some pleasures with the new; the Garage Door gang were just about the right age group Mack enjoyed. He enjoyed, too, the younger set and buddy Paulie didn't have a particular preference one way or the other.
The more and more the replacements were affected by the near constant assault by the EMAD, the more they were in compliance and accepting not their fate but their new way of life. That allowed for the lessening of the EMAD assault and allowing them to "be themselves."
Of the newbies, Mack took to Carly right off. Paul seemed to like Tina and Melody. Mack liked Melody, too—typical blonde teenager with sizable breasts, a great ass, and pleasing personality. Bradley still had to be curtailed—her mind was more resistant to the electronic prowess of the minding device so much so that eventually she had to be "trained" with an electronic dog collar. She couldn't be trusted and if she ventured from the confines of the basement she was shocked. If she got out of line in any way she was shocked.
It wasn't the suitable alternative but it would do to ensure her safety as well as the safety and security of the others. Mack liked her—for her tenacity, for her resistance. She was pretty but not overly so—sort of a Plain Jane kind of girl but she had a great body. Mack enjoyed his time (sex) with her just because she was not so willing. He "put it to her" just to show her who WAS in charge, who WAS the boss. The spanking and other forms of deviltry was to ensure that she knew her place.
"Submission is better—far better than not," Mack told her plainly. "Resistance is futile." It was "comply" or suffer.
The girl, however, refused to be broken. And that was ok, it kept Mack on his guard and that was a good thing. Although he enjoyed "putting it to" Carly, Samantha, Melody, and the others—his time with Bradley was special.
Paulie found much pleasure with Tina and Samantha, but had a thing about humping his own daughter, Portia. It was a given, a natural thing and at least once a day he got something from the twelve-year-old—a blowjob, spanking, peeing on her, cumming off onto her face, simple fucking, or "up the ass."
There, too, was his ten-year-old son whom Paul took pleasure in having screw Portia (his sister) and then the rest of the replacements. A time or two and the boy also was fondled seriously by his Mom, Lindsy. Fondled and sucked and then prompted to fuck her. Lindsy seriously got off on getting boned by her own son—she couldn't wait until he was older (teenager.)
Josh Bieutumph was fairly easily "turned." Mostly he liked fucking, pure and simple. He didn't particularly care for "being" fucked, sucking dick, being spanked, pissed on, or licking buttholes regardless if they were a girl's hole or other.
Freddie Kress also liked fucking and like Josh, easily adopted the new way of life. And like Josh, didn't particularly care for fondling another guy's junk, sucking junk, or being plunged. Mack, on the other hand, enjoyed watching those two particular boys engage in just such immoralities.
And mostly it wouldn't be so bad for the aforementioned boys if they engaged in those despicable deeds alone—alone and out of sight of the girls. But usually the girls were present when Mack had a notion to put the boys through their paces with one another.
The Adventure of Olan starts now
The air was more than hot—it was damn freaking hot! Nothing stirred; there were no sounds, there was nothing. Blinking his eyes then squeezing them tight, young Olan Arasmess, apparent lone survivor of his family, clenched the hot desert sand he lay on.
He was alive. Sort of. Every fiber of his being was on fire. His head hurt, he could hardly breathe, the horror of the Horrid reigned supreme in his mind; the horror of what had happened to his family also occupied his mind.
His watch was broken at 2:22 but he thought it was just hours after sunrise. But he wasn't sure—he wasn't sure about anything including if he was actually alive. Moving more than his thoughts and fingers was about all he could do—but the sun baking his naked body motivated him to seek shelter and think things out.
Easier said than done. Every fiber of his being…
In his mind he saw his family being abused—it would be a long-long time spent in therapy. Turning his head he saw a spider of some sort, his mind was too fucked up to recognize the tarantula. The desert scavenger didn't bother the naked youth—merely paused then scurried quickly to seek shelter.
Shelter. Olan knew he had to find shelter; already he felt the sting of being cooked. It took a great deal of effort and energy to push himself up. That was about it for a few minutes, then he managed a little more and a little more and soon was standing.
He was alone—there was nothing but rocks, boulders, sand, bushes, and scurrying lizards. Olan thought that a good idea—the sand was already very warm and not kind to his bare feet. Not far away was some large boulders that lifted up a ridge. Olan made for that hoping to scramble up to the highest part of the rocks to see if there might be a road somewhere.
The ridge was hot. Too hot to do any "scrambling" so finding a nook the naked pre-teen, lone survivor of the Horrid incident, sought shelter and waited for night.
What a long day—broken by bouts of sleep. He was hungry, his body hurt all over, his mind was in uproar, and he couldn't think straight—ahead. All there was was to survive. To live. He knew that he needed water to do that and there didn't seem to be any water anywhere near. He would have to move from his shelter eventually.
When night came the boy was on the move. His body was seriously in peril, the sharp edges of the rocks he made his way over were equally not kind as was the searing hot sand. At the top of the ridge it was a little cooler but when it got dark in the desert—it got dark!
There was nothing, though, that young Olan could see. No lights traveling this way or that. For a moment it seemed as though he might lose it and break down. His head felt awful with horrendous images of his family being abused. What exactly happened to them he couldn't recall and wondered why he was left.
Suddenly, a stiff breeze swept up from the hot desert sand five hundred feet below. A strange odor filled Olan's nostrils—then a stranger sight filled his eyes before him; a swirl of mixed colors like a mini whirlwind that after only a minute or so formed to form a person.
An old Indian stood before him, no headdress but he had many beads and feathers to adorn him. Other details about his "dress" were unknown to Olan—it was too dark to make those particulars out.
"You are lost," spoke the old Indian.
Olan was too parched to answer—not too mention stunned.
"Follow me."
There didn't seem to be much choice so Olan did.
It hadn't been noticed before but there was a small narrow foot path at the top of the ridge and after an hour of trekking they came to a stop.
"You are here," said the Indian.
"Where?"
"Here."
Olan looked around and saw only rocks, boulders, and then something sparkling. Then he got a whiff of something he wasn't sure of. Kneeling down he saw a pool of water! It was a bit of a drop to the pool but Olan didn't care and plunged in.
There was instant shock and his entire body felt like when his arm fell asleep. The tingling sensation was all over and all over within a couple of minutes. Then it felt good.
When Olan crawled out of the pool the old Indian was gone. Naturally.
The young boy didn't realize at first but his body ails had been healed.
Although he had slept during the day it hadn't been a good sleep, just an exhausted one. After the refreshing dunk in the mysterious healing pool the naked youth laid out under the odd-shaped pine tree and fell to sleep—only to be awakened by a screeching/squawking vulture.
"I'm not dead!" bitched Olan sitting up rubbing his eyes. The ugly desert scavenger fluttered off and Olan was alone—again.A dunk in the pool was just the thing, and that was when he noted his scrapes, dings, and even hunger mysteriously healed.
He didn't check to see how deep the pool was; he lounged and swam about, got out and barrel-dived back in over and over until he got tired and had to lay down under the lone pine tree again. When evening-type time came again, he climbed up the tree to see if he could get a better vantage point.
Not much, and there was nothing to see, either. No lights anywhere.
A little disheartened, the boy settled under the tree, emptying his thoughts.
"You must not leave here," said a voice.
Olan whirled about, finding the old Indian had returned.
"What?" he said.
"This is a safe place, you must not leave here."
"But I want to go home."
"Now is not a good time."
Olan didn't know what to say; he wanted to go home, but the old Indian was suggesting that he didn't.
"My family--"
"You are your family, now."
Olan didn't understand. The old Indian waved his hand over the rocky sand, and a small fire came to be. That was good 'cause young Olan began to feel the nip of the desert night air.
"Nom-a-tay-hey-hey, ay-ya-ha-ha-, eh-yeh-yeh-ya-ha-ha--" the old Indian began to chant—and chant—and chant some more. When Olan awoke hours later, he was gone, and a new day had begun.
"Stay here," the old Indian had said. Olan shook his head; he had to go home. He couldn't stay. There was nothing to do, he had to find his family.
Before striking off, though, Olan noted some clothing: shoes, a long-sleeved shirt, another shirt, an undershirt, and a pair of pants. Wow! He blinked his eyes and looked quickly around, scrambled up some boulders, but didn't see anyone around.
The shoes fit. So did the shirts and pants. Wow!
After dressing, he looked around again, then made for the biggest boulder to get his bearings. A breeze swept up from the desert, rustling the boughs of the pine—then there was a voice, it seemed as if from far away, but Olan could make it out: "do not go into the desert."
Stay here. Stay put. Don't go wandering.
For a few minutes, Olan hung at the base of the tree, but the drive to go home overwhelmed the wise words of the mysterious Indian. So, with no water carrier, no food, no sense of direction, no idea where a road was, no head protection from the dazzling sun—twelve-year-old Olan left the sanctuary of the healing pool.
An hour later, and he wished he had heeded the old man's words as the desert sun sought even harder to bake him. The trail along the top of the ridge was difficult to follow—the rocks were hot, and the sun's heat blistered off the sides of the ridge, severely cooking him.
Finding another small niche to protect himself from the day, he curled up and fretted. The old Indian was probably right. Olan decided that when the sun went down, he would go back to the pond.
Exhausted to the extreme, the youngster went right off to sleep—only to be awakened by some sort of sound. It was hours later, and what the sound was didn't immediately register. Olan couldn't believe that it was dark already. He was hungry, thirsty, and more than a little burnt and sore. He knew that he should have worn the long-sleeved shirt along his trek, but had chosen the short-sleeved one instead.
Clambering up the rocks that were still mighty hot, the boy looked all around—'what had made that sound?' and, 'what WAS that sound?' He strained his ears and finally heard from behind him the sound of a vehicle!
Quickly, he scuttled over the rocks, falling and banging his body all over again, coming down the rocks to a sticker-filled hill, seeing a pair of jostling lights of some vehicle of one kind or another not far away.
Olan began hollering "HEY! HEY! OVER HERE! OVER HERE!"
The vehicle seemed to be lumbering, grinding gears, and not sounding very well. But it was moving. Olan scrambled, tripping over rocks, deadwood, tumbleweeds, all coming to a small desert road. The vehicle came to a stop with its lights blaring; the dust settled, and a creaky door opened.
"Well, well, well," said a grumbling voice full of piss and vigor, and whiskey, "what the fuck we got 'ere?"
Olan blinked his eyes and felt a slight twinge of fear—again.
The driver came to the front of the lumbering pickup; he was tall, grungy, grimy, and wore dingy jeans, boots (motorcycle type), and a sleeveless denim jacket bearing patches. A large patch also known as "colors" or brand was on the back of the jacket. If young Olan had seen that patch first, he would have run and run hard.
"Get your ass in the truck!" shouted the man.
Olan was compelled—fear has a way of doing that. The desert was unkind and motivated the youth to once more traipse into the realm of danger. He said nothing as he got into the truck, the man slid into the driver's side, yanked on the column shifter, and gouged the accelerator, motivating the old worn-out truck to move.
The man said nothing. Olan said nothing. The truck lurched and grumbled, sputtered, and didn't sound well at all. The desert road was narrow, bumpy, rocky, and unkind to passengers traveling in worn-out pickups. At length, they topped a great hill. The truck was about to give out, and the driver brought it to a stop, shutting off the motor. The lights remained on, stabbing out into the bleak night.
Cockjaw got out and stood away from the open door—Olan could hear him peeing. Afterwards, the Horrid survivor made his way around the still grumbling truck. Opening the door, he barked, "Get out!"
Olan didn't know what to think—if he could have thought, he would have bashed the door open onto the man and scrambled out the still open driver's door. But he didn't, he eased out of the truck and stood in trembling fear.
"You gotta pee?" he asked.
Olan didn't know—he was too scared to realize if he did or not.
"I don't want you pissin' in my truck," bitched the Horrid.
With trembling fingers, young Olan Arasmess unzipped and hauled out his pre-teen schlong. Gravity took over in mere seconds, and more than a hearty piss began to spring forth. It felt good. Real good. A long pent-up piss, and the release was fantastic!
Thereafter, Olan customarily returned his pecker inside the pants that weren't his but fit well just the same (including underwear!)
"Get in," sparked Cockjaw.
Olan planned on it, but felt something was not good.
"Ut-uh," said the Horrid member, "turn around, lay into it, on the seat."
Olan felt a knot forming in his gut; the bench seat was well-worn, green, and cluttered with papers, rags, and motorcycle parts. As he moved to lay down on the seat,
"Take 'em down," sneered Cockjaw.
"Oh shit," blurted Olan. Seldom did he ever curse, his Mom busted his ass with a belt more than once because of his foul mouth. He clenched all over and pushed down the pants and underwear.
"Thattaboy!"
Olan lay partially on the seat, his knees against the sill, his clothes at his ankles.
"Spread 'em!" Cockjaw barked.
Olan spread his own cheeks and waited.
He didn't have to wait long, the last surviving member of the Horrid Motorcycle gang of Vusqual North area positioned himself against the naked boy, smoothing his hand over the lad's bared ass. Olan trembled and squirmed; Cockjaw smacked the boy's thigh and ass—then repeated the smacking, finding intense pleasure in doing so.
Olan thought he would come out of his mind as the man behind him wasn't gentle about penetrating him. The last remaining member of the Horrid drove his manly cock fully into the boy's asshole, driving in hard and "all the way." Then he began to pump and wasn't kind about it, either. All Olan could do was hang on.
Cockjaw humped and humped and "tore it up!" After cumming, he pulled out and smacked his gangly cock against the boy's ass; then reached underneath to toy with the boy's toy.
Olan's asshole was on fire, and he was oblivious to all else. It took a long while before he could get a hold of himself—and get a hold of a piston. The nifty item belonged to the motor of a two-stroker. Gripping the motor part, Olan whirled around, kicked, and brought the head of the piston to Cockjaw's head. Olan then managed to roll onto his backside and with both feet kick his attacker's chest.
Cockjaw stumbled back, gasped for breath, and shook off the attack.
"You little fucker!" he yelled and charged the boy who clumsily was trying to pull up his pants. Cockjaw wrestled with the boy, grabbing Olan's ankles and wrenching them as hard as he could, slamming them to the dashboard before pushing the legs back with knees to the boy's chest. He tried once more to rape the boy, but before he could, he stumbled backward again, gasping for breath.
Olan set up, clutching the piston.
Cockjaw stumbled backwards, colliding with a boulder, his hands clutching his throat. The man sputtered with blood spurting through his fingers. Great fear filled the young boy. Getting his clothes up was only part of his plan; getting away was the next.
After getting out of the truck (passenger side), he stood for a moment, curiously staring as the Horrid member slumped to the ground, sputtering with what looked like an arrow in his neck.
The man reached out to grab Olan—but he was eight feet away.
Something behind Olan made a noise—the truck officially dying. A stiff breeze came, bringing a foul stench; the Horrid member continued to gasp. Olan stepped up to the man—and kicked him with all his might to his exposed man parts.
The piston he still clutched went with equal might upside the man's head. Then he was off with great gusto.
His adventure was still not over, though. | null | Book 8, Chapter Thirty One | Authors/Bootscooter/AugMoone Bk8 Chptr 31.txt |
112,595 | Bootscooter | August Moone Book 9 Chapter 21 And the Saga Continues More Shorties | You know, the world can be amazing (when you're slightly strange). Warning, when I say "Bite me" I consider that foreplay. Calling "Shotgun" while sitting in the paddy wagon is a great way to lighten the mood (after being arrested). Fuck mornings, fuck Monday-Tuesday-Wednesday-Thursday-Friday mornings, fuck anything "in the morning" that doesn't involve sleeping, sex, or bacon. I fell out of my wheelchair recently and my life flashed before my eyes, and all I saw were skanks and vodka.
Another girl Walter knew, Nancy Givesashitt, he most definitely wanted to see naked. She was a white girl, very pretty, popular, had an amazing voice, and a great personality. She also acknowledged Walter's existence on Earth. That was a plus (and he heard her fart at a pizza party!).
So, while at the girl's house hanging loose as an invited friend, and several other girls there also, the opportunity arose whereas the "unseen" Oscar paved the way for Walter to pave his cock—into Nancy's twat! The girl was a virgin—all around! Nice, nice titties—soft and supple, just right for pawing. Her poon pie was neatly trimmed, and she was only just beginning to find and discover the pleasures of fingering herself. She wasn't naïve, however, she well enough knew what a "blowjob" was and even what "cornholing" was. Seeing boys naked? Yeah, little boys mostly that she took care of, but also boys her age and a little older—boys masturbating and peeing in the woods while at Summer Camp.
Standing naked in her bedroom, and Walter was enamored. So was Oscar! The girl was a true beauty; she was in print, too! A magazine had pictures of her hocking swimwear, skin lotion, hair care products. She was amazingly beautiful, and Walter was amazingly smitten by her. So was Oscar!
On her knees, she serviced Walter's dong—then Oscar. The amazingly beautiful fifteen-year-old not only knew what a Blowjob was—she knew how to give it, too. And although she had never done so before—she had amazing talent and "gave head" like an expert.
The BJ was the most fantastic thing ever! Ever! Then Walter C stuffed his hard mamba into Nancy's virgin cunt, and it was the most fantastic thing—ever! His eyes rolled, his toes curled, and he was only part way in! Shoving his fuck stick in, busting the virgin girl's cherry, and Walter C shuddered all over. Oscar caressed and then spanked the boy's butt, squeezed the cheeks, then sat back on his heels to watch the fuck action take place.
Using the girl's own panties, she was cleaned up. And while Walter stood by in a sexual funky frenzy, Oscar took his turn. The girl's cunny had just been busted, so the fuck of her was not "sloppy seconds." Some care was taken in delving into the girl's cunny; cupping her ass, the man gently entered her, finding orgasm just seconds away. A final push, and spunk matter was spurting. There was no stopping it, and so he didn't.
Thrusting over and over, and the girl received her own orgasm. Her nipples hardened, and the juices of her pussy soaked her bed. Oscar fucked her slow—until such time as he had no choice but to submit to the wiles of sexual progress. The girl bucked beneath him; her beautiful face screwed up, indicating confusion.
Her asshole was equally virginal, but the power of the EMAD was taxed, so breeching that hole would have to wait until another time. A bit o' rest, fondling the girl, cleaning her up, some spanking, lifting her legs and prodding the last remaining virgin territory, gliding against her fresh fucked slit, squirting spunk up along her stomach clear to those bodacious teenage ta-tas—all cumulated to being over sensed and over sexed.
This led to the defiling of Nancy's 6-year-old sister. She was downstairs in the kitchen. The EMAD had successfully mind-zapped the other girls there plus Nancy's Mom. The little girl should have been left alone, by rights, but Oscar was a pervert, so there's that. And Walter? Did he care if Trisha was merely six years young? No. He did kinda, but, he did kinda/sorta want to see her undressed. What would follow thereafter was unknown. But already jazzed by sex with Nancy and just about anything goes. Oscar smiled—he had gotten the boy to have intimate sexual relations with Theo—so what was one more perversion?
With the mind-altering device taxed to its limit, Oscar had to play it slowly. How far—just how far would Walter go? In the mouth? Sure. In the little girl's pussy? Hmmm—iffy. Up the ass? Probably not. Oscar was cool with that. He lowered the little tyke's knee-length britches to begin with.
Bright yellow panties greeted the two onlookers. Oscar stole a moment to ogle and admire. Then he gently lowered the pretty panties and marveled at the smooth six-year-old pussy. Fuck Walter! Oscar was having first dibs! All he did, though, was lay the tyke down, remove her pants and panties, open her legs, and have at it—licking her pussy to his delight until such time as when he had to hammer his schlong. Then he laid said schlong against the youngster's pussy and humped. No entry, no penetration—just humped until squirting a massive wad of spunk.
And then there was Bridgett the Midget. "I once knew a gal named Bridgett. She was not very tall—she was in fact a Midget. She could drink a pint and think herself a giant. All the while she rode my widget!"
I DID once know a girl named Bridgett; she was short like me, a midget. She was sweet and sassy—my kind of lassie! And upon my widget she DID fidget! There's nothing like sex with a Little Person. The gals, the guys, we're awesome! Like furious rabbits, dogs, emus, goats—we fuck like crazy as if it's our last time fucking. Go out with a bang! Hardcore humping; lots of screaming, banshees flee in fear as we get going and holler out "I'm cumming!"
Another "Bridgett" there was, coming nicely into Theo (and Oscar's) path. She was sixteen, 110 cm (a little over 43 inches) and of average weight for that height. Long-long silky flaming red hair. And for a Little Person, she was quite pretty and not so gangly as some of us folk of that nature seem to be. She had an elongated face but was still quite charming and not unpleasant to look at—or gaze upon whilst she wore a one-piece bathing suit. She was an excellent swimmer and, despite shortened limbs, did well athletically speaking in the realm of gymnastics.
And that was where Walter and Oscar saw her—in the high school gymnasium. Walter was smitten—and intrigued. Oscar had been with a Little Person before—and she was wild in the sack! And on the counter, bathroom floor, dining table, front porch, back porch, swimming pool, ski lift…
Walter (and invisible sidekick, Oscar) first encountered Bridgett at a high school basketball game. It was early evening, and Walter had had enough of studying and being the persona of a "good boy" he could stand. He needed a break, and a high school basketball game was just the thing. Theo was hanging with his family.
Although the cheerleaders were the main focus of Walter's attention, he also found Bridgett the Midget something to watch, too. She was 110 percent enthusiastic about her basketball team. She was amazing to watch—despite shortened limbs, shortened stature, she had dynamite bodacious teenage titties. They bounced, jiggled, wiggled, and fascinated Walter—and Oscar—as she jumped up and down in her seat, screaming at the team, encouraging them to come back from a 15-point deficit. Her antics were salacious, but did little to help her team. Still, though, the sophomore proved her worth and got the entire area around her cheering and rooting for the lackluster team unable to sink the basketball.
After the game—and the score was reminiscent of how old people fuck (slow and sloppy)—Oscar enthused his young prodigy to greet/meet Bridgett. There was chaos after the game—lots of people goofing about, farting, drinking, drinking stuff they shouldn't be drinking, smoking, smoking stuff they shouldn't be smoking, and fucking. Most of the stuff the student body "shouldn't" be doing was doing under the indoor bleachers. Walter was embarrassed as he saw the naughty business going on—in his mind he saw Bridgett naked, and it blew his mind. There were many-many-many fine young damsels who were far-far better in the looks department than Bridgett, but Walter was smitten by her, so...
After clumsily working his way through his introduction, he offered to walk her to the on-campus concession stand "I'll buy," he said in a grown-up manner. Bridgett accepted; she was still hyped by the game, a little sweaty, and a conquest Walter just had to conquer.And conquer he did—after a while of hemming and hawing, jawing, eating treats, yapping about the game, dissing teachers, friends, family, etc. Then they casually made their way to the not-so-lit tennis courts and to the back parking lot.
There were dangers about doing the freaky out in the open, on school grounds—dogs, sprinklers, passersby, sneaky spies, and the like. None of that mattered, or very little crossed their minds, as they found a suitable place between the elms to shed their clothes and admire one another in the half-moonlight. The setting was serene, if not sublime. The air was warm but not unpleasant. Walter had no idea what it was like to fuck a Little Person, Bridgett being the only one on campus. He knew of her, had seen her, heard her, and was aware of her. There were no stray thoughts of ever seeing her naked, let alone shoving his bone into her.
And though Walter was the guy, and the guy usually—USUALLY takes the helm in these matters (such as fucking, spankings, oral, anal, what have you), once shed of his clothes, he found the tables turned, and Bridgett in control. No matter, whatever.
It was a little awkward; Walter unsure of how to proceed. Bridgett, however, was in command—especially when she grabbed hold of his dangling nuggets. She smiled all the while as she fondled his balls; then lovingly she wrapped her fingers about his elongated mamba and pleased the boy like no other hand—even his own—had done. The girl was talented! Expertly she thumbed the piss slit, strengthening his schlong even more. Then—THEN she was going down on him, sucking him like no mouth had ever done!
She could suck the chrome off a '56 Chevy's bumper!
Walter didn't know quite what to think about Bridgett. Naked, she was—a little strange looking. Not unpleasant to look at, but she was way different than other girls. But she had a dynamite personality, she could suck dick like no other girl could suck dick, and she had a "snappin' pussy!"
On his back, Bridgett the Midget moved onto the bewildered boy. She was in full command, and it was alright with Walter. It was odd, strange, weird, and at first a little uncomfortable. Then Bridgett the Midget sunk her cunt down onto his cock, and all worries, concerns, misgivings, and everything else disappeared in a sweet release. As the girl fully took command of the interlude, every unfounded fear he had melted into peace. The serenity swelled within him, and for a time he was awash in a sea of ecstasy.
And back to Theo—also "awash in a sea of ecstasy." But not with a Little Person (although she WAS little). To show the amazing powers of the EMAD, Oscar had left lingering remnants of his desires in the Elbathtub family, specifically Kassie and Trianna. There hadn't been sufficient time to mess with the minds of the other two girls, Elissa and Ebony. But their time was coming—
But first!
Messing around
When the "timing was right"—parents out of the house and the other unaffected siblings—Theo and his infected—er, affected siblings "messed around." Dancing naked was one thing they enjoyed—dancing the boogaloo, the jig, the jive, the "mess around" and all the top 1960's pop/rock mostly black entertainer songs. It was a blast. To run amok naked in the two-story brownstone upscale house, to dance naked everywhere—especially in their parents' room, then to fuck in virtually every room possible—especially in their parents' room.
In their parents' room, there was the most messing around going on. While a particular black soul singer most popular in the '60s & '70s belted out a tune called "do the mess around", Theo doggie-styled his little sister, Kassie, while Trianna lay underneath watching "up close and personal." She played with Theo's dangling, swishing balls, licked her sister's cunt, fingered herself, and was none the wiser that her mind had been electronically assaulted.
Theo drilled his ten-year-old sister's cunt—and asshole. One hole after another, pumping furiously for several intense pumps, then spanking the girl's ass before drilling the other hole. Finally, he came, and strands of his spunk were like a spider's web and dripped down onto Trianna's face. She suckled her brother's sweaty, musty balls as well as licked her sister's slicked-up, cum-laden pussy.
With his dick still hard, thirteen-year-old Trianna took a squat and settled herself down onto her brother as he lay out on the thick carpeted floor. Theo moaned, his eyelids fluttered, and he groaned as his cock was fully intensed. Trianna giggled and commandingly took over the sexcapades, clenching her hot pussy while her sister lay off to one side—steam rising from her lithe young body. She lay giggling, blushing, and watching in measured mesmerment as her brother and sister were sexually engaged.
Mostly it was her brother in seemingly agony as Trianna was in commanding command. She worked her sex up to the point where Theo's schlong nearly popped free, then she slid back down, clenching her cunt muscles, sinking herself all the way down his member and doing so s-lo-w-l-y. At length, though, the girl was intensely enthused, as was her horny brother, and began moving her hips up and down faster and faster.
Gripping Trianna's thrashing hips, Theo tried to retake command of the situation. Didn't work. There was only the 120 percent enthusiasm of orgasm thriving through him with little else for little else. All there was was to fuck—to fuck and cum. Mostly to cum. Theo was brought right to the brink of orgasm, but so far that day he had cum—four times! He was spent. His cock tingled like never before! Earlier that day, before dawn, before his parents stirred, he and Kassie were hard at it—in the back yard—fucking!
Then, in the basement with Trianna. Fucking!
Then, in the kitchen on the family breakfast table—fucking! Both his sisters naked! He licked their cunnies then stuffed them for a few minutes of intense fucking. The next session was in the parental bedroom—fucking! He couldn't get enough. He began spanking his sister's ass and finding intrigue watching her teenage titties jiggle and bounce. He was captivated and temporarily allowed his orgasm to wane.
Trianna slammed her hot cunt down onto her brother's bone, regaining his attention. Theo regained command of the fuck session, too. In a sudden burst of energy, he moved to switch places and resume his position as "on top". Bringing Trianna's legs up with her ankles on his shoulders, he began to power-fuck his sister, giving her shoulder rug (carpet) burns.
Then there was trouble—
As Theo and Trianna reinvigorated themselves in the hall bathroom Theo used mostly—the sound of the front door could be heard. It was Kassie who heard the door as she was sitting on the toilet having a good pee. There was no time to flee to their rooms and be "innocent". Kassie began to freak, Theo grabbed her and flung her into the shower. The shower was fairly large, having a vinyl curtain rather than a glass door.
"Our clothes!" whimpered Trianna.
The kids' clothes lay scattered on the floor of their parents' bedroom where the naughty incestuous festivities had begun. Theo's mind raced as he thought of a plan. There was none. There was no excuse he could come up with to explain to "whoever" had come home unexpectedly unannounced as to why his clothes and his sisters' clothes were in the bedroom.
It was not, however, Parental Unit One or Two but seventeen-year-old sibling Elissa AND moved-out-of-the-house, Ebony. The girls' voices could be heard giggling—and calling out for various household members, especially parent units One and Two.
No answer.
So, crouching at the bathroom door, the naked siblings huddled, listening.
Elissa and Ebony came up the stairs, finding no one on the lower level. They chatted, giggled, and walked right past the closed hall bathroom. Theo let out his breath, but his naked, wet sisters kept their breaths in. How much of the electronic wizardry had there been to affect Elissa's mind wasn't for sure known, none had been done unto the twenty-one-year-old, Ebony.
After a couple of long minutes, Theo opened the door.
With no sign of the intruding sisters, he sneaked out. His cock was still mighty hard, steaming, and still reeling from the intense fucking he had had that day, with pending intent on more.
Then he smelled it. An odor. A familiar odor. Marijuana!
Theo was aware—very aware—that his two older sisters smoked a blunt "now and then." Mostly it was Elissa who he was aware of, but assumed Ebony did so as well. She was very-very smart, Ebony, was; a Princeton girl. She was supposed to follow her father the lawyer, but instead had opted to run an "outdoor" business with her boyfriend. She had burned out on schooling and lost interest in the higher pursuit of status.
The source of the Happy Smoke wafted from Elissa's bedroom. Before Ebony moved out, the two had shared that room. Theo crept lightly (and nakedly) down the hall to the suspected bedroom. The scent of the pot was strong, and he was virtually getting "high" just from the fumes.
Upon hearing the girls giggling, he paused at the door and contemplated.
He could just "open the door" and bust them; he could hold the information for a later time (blackmail); or enjoy the serene moment, taking in the information for himself as insight.
Then he heard footsteps approaching and barely had time to race back to the bathroom. Trianna and Kassie nearly got bowled over as Theo dashed in—and luckily there was a bunched-up towel on the floor to prevent Theo's slamming the bathroom door, giving them away. The girls dashed into the shower with Theo behind them.
After a minute and no intrusion, Theo slipped out and back to the door.
Some wicked acid-like rock was screaming out of Elissa's bedroom. The door was wide open.Theo waited another minute before easing out and seeing that their parents' bedroom door was open. Hmmm. Had he closed it when dashing out of it earlier? Hmmm.
Then he heard voices. Ebony and Elissa were in their parents' bedroom, kind of a standard no-no in the Elbathtub household—when parents not home, STAY OUT OF THE BEDROOM. So much for that rule. Theo darted back into the bathroom just as the sounds of the girls got close.
Barely had he time to close the shower curtain when Ebony came into the hall bathroom. She could have very well used her parents' bathroom, but for some reason she came to the hall bathroom—the one she had used most her life anyways. Copping a squat on the pot, she firstly farted, then the sound of a long hard piss could be heard.
She was as high as fuck—so she stated to her sister, Elissa, who had followed her in. "I'm as high as fuck!"
Elissa giggled, then moved to the sink to brush her hair and "pop a zit." Ewewe. She also farted. They were also naked.
Oh!
Finally, with "business" concluded, the two miscreant sisters departed. Checking, Theo saw them re-enter their bedroom. The door shut, giving the other siblings the chance to escape the bathroom, grab their clothes, make for their own bedrooms, dress, then escape elsewhere, leaving Ebony and Elissa none the wiser.
Later on, "Better tell Mom you've been swimming."
Elissa looked to her brother with a bewildered stare. "Why?" she said.
Whispering so as only she could hear, "Cause your eyes are stoned!"
The eyes were the gateway to the soul—someone said that. (It's in the Bible, me thinks, Psalms; me Mum had to read it (the Bible) to me 'cause every time I went to touch the Good Book—it burst into flames. Probably an omen of some kind.)
Elissa made way to the bathroom and was horrified to see that her eyes told the tale—she was stoned. Or had been. And her Mother being a doctor? No way to explain but a heavily chlorinated swimming pool. Oscar had fond memories of "getting stoned" with his three cousins, Mary Ellen, Kathy Anne, and Debbie Lynn. Debbie was the oldest, Mary the youngest. And at one time, when Oscar was the ripe old age of ten, he had a hellacious sexual experience with all three girls, plus one!
Of course, smoking dope and heavy drinking were involved. Of course!
The "plus one" was a family friend of the cousins. Oscar lived a block away and through the hot scorching summers often got invited to the cousins' house to swim in their pool. Usually this was done when the girls' parents, his aunt/uncle, were not home, as there was a feud between his parents and them. Anyways, often times they swam naked, skinny dipped.
Then the girls got a little braver and offered their young cousin, then ten years young, to smoke a joint with them. Oscar was hip and enjoyed the blunt as much as he enjoyed swimming naked! He was not naïve and well aware of his naked cousins, but not quite into the sexual attraction. Oscar was just entering the realm of "self-pleasuring." He humped his bed, pillow, hand, bed, and had beginning thoughts of humping girls. Seeing his cousins naked helped out a lot. A lot!
One day, Oscar found "Jessica" also included in the no-parent-at-home festivities. She was in the girls' shared bedroom upon Oscar's arrival. The stench of marijuana was heavy in the room. Oscar took the offering and then it was suggested that he "get naked" right then and there.
Jessica, a year or so younger than he, lay somewhat stoned herself on Mary Ellen's bed. There was a twin size bed and then a bunk bed, Mary Ellen and Kathy Anne had the bunk bed with Kathy Anne having the upper bunk. It was suggested to Jessica, too, to "get naked." The little girl wore bright red knit-like shorts and a thin pinkish tank top. She had lovely blond super curly hair—and no titties! Oh well. Oscar stripped off his clothes and stood with a partial boner.
The boy was then encouraged to "get on top" of Jessica.
After smoking half a joint, he did so. Grinding his cock against Jessica's cunt enthused him like no flat surface ever did! The concept of "fucking," though, wasn't with him. He grinded and grinded until little Jessica whispered "he's not in."
He's not in?
He's not in!
Oscar lay practically on Jessica, not quite in the norm for "fucking." Cousin Mary Ellen, giggling and blushing, helped "guide" her young cousin into the fine art that was inserting his mediocre prong into Jessica's not quite virgin pussy. She rubbed his ass and gingerly raised his hips, then with her fingers about his pencil-like dick, eased it into the awaiting slit.
Oscar eased in and was immediately taken by the extreme pleasure that suddenly swarmed over him. 'Holy fucking ape shit, Batman!' The pumping came naturally, and as he did so, cousins One-Two-Three equally got naked.
The orgasm shimmer. The explosion of cumming was something akin to a rollercoaster ride—exhilarating! And then some. A lot some. Like an earthquake, though, it was temporary. Like an illicit drug, it was wanted more so many times over. It began young Oscar's pursuit of sex in all its glorious ways. All of them.
While he shuddered his first in-the-pussy orgasm, Mary Ellen smacked his ass. She was "high as fuck" and spanked her young cousin's arse until he cried out. Not so much in anguish, but the sting of the smackings was getting to be a bit much. Cousins Kathy Anne and Debbie Lynn were taking shots of their dad's "special" whiskey. Why it was "special" wasn't known to Oscar, but he later learned in life that it was illegal moonshine.
Anyways, Oscar creamed into Jessica's tight as fuck snatch box. How many dicks had been in there he didn't know—not that it mattered. He fucked until he was well contented, then he fucked a little more, squirting his young boy cum up the girl's belly and chest. When he lay off to one side up against the wall, his cum shooter shot off another strand of spunk splattering onto Mary Ellen's titties.
Mary Ellen giggled, and as a slightly disgruntled Jessica wiped Oscar's spunk off (using his underwear to do so), she was encouraged to suck Mary Ellen's titties, licking off the cum splatter. She did, and Oscar got to rub his cock against Jessica's ass.
Kathy Anne passed out.
Debbie Lynn followed.
Mary Ellen got the munchies and, with Jessica in tow, went to the kitchen, leaving Oscar behind. Oscar lay askew on the bed, fondling his steaming schlong, eyeing his passed out naked cousins. No "unseen" culprit was about with (or without) an electronic device. Oscar acted on his own. He wasn't prone to be "evil"; he had broken some school windows, bashed some mailboxes, pissed into gas tanks, helped himself to a bottle of soda from the open side of the delivery truck—that one with cousin Kathy Anne. But as pure evil? No, he wasn't in bashing puppy dogs, shaving cats, or hurting anyone—people or animals. Firecrackers in a mailbox? Sure. Potato stuffed into the tailpipe of a car? Yep.
But evil? Not so much.
Deviant was a totally different avenue.
Not knowing when Mary Ellen, or Jessica, would return—or caring, Oscar quickly slid onto the passed out Kathy Anne, sliding his cock into her cunt. Whether or not she was a virgin he didn't know. Didn't care. He pumped quickly, straining his ears to hear telltale footfalls. Sweat dripped off of him as he pumped vigorously.
The cum off came in under three minutes. The sensation was more incredible than doing Jessica! He shuddered like before, but then his toes curled up, too! There was a strange tingling sensation that swept through his body, instilling upon his mind that there was nothing better than fucking. Chocolate cake, hot pudding, a girl in her panties, hearing a girl fart, seeing a girl get bare assed spanked—none of that shit. Fucking. Fucking and cumming—that was all that mattered.
After the cum blast, and hearing Mary Ellen and Jessica giggling, Oscar quickly pulled away. Then, seeing his mess smeared on his cousin's cunt, he grabbed his already soiled cum-stained underwear and swiped her clean—just in time. As he breathlessly resettled himself, Mary Ellen appeared, bringing a small dish of ice cream.
Somehow, Elissa managed to avoid direct eye-to-eye contact with her Mother. Later that night, Elissa found Theo in the kitchen snacking. Other than fucking, Theo liked to snack.
"I didn't get a chance to tell you," the not-so-stoned-now girl said, "but thanks." She was a little leery, apprehensive; but relieved that her brother didn't take charge of the potentially devastating situation and rat her out. As siblings, they often found ways to get the other in some sort of trouble. But ratting out a sib for an offense like smoking pot—very bad for relationship. Having siblings meant having a backup, a cover, a ride, and an excuse if need be.
Theo shrugged it off, smiled, and polished off his snack.
A few days later, and apparently Elissa was still bothered by almost getting busted—and her brother knew what "stoned" eyes looked like. So, after finding him in the kitchen a little after midnight (again), "Do you smoke?" she asked. And it was not in reference to Camels, Slims, or Newports.
Theo grinned, blushed, and chowed on some frosty cereal.
Elissa grabbed a bowl but didn't fill it with anything. She sat down at the table and seemed "lost in thought." Chewing her lip, she asked, "You and Cockroach?"
Theo shrugged, "Sometimes." And smoke his pole, too!
Elissa nodded she understood that—it was a given.
"You and Michelle?""Theo asked, Michelle being Elissa's best friend.
"Sometimes," she giggled.
"Good shit?"
"Most times."
"Me, too," Theo said, not so enthused. He knew little about weed, bongs, and all the names of the wacky stuff.
"Do you got any?" Elissa asked, seemingly hopefully.
"Nah, smoked it already!"
"And you didn't share!" Elissa nearly shrieked, as she'd been left out.
"You weren't here!" Theo smiled.
He had a hell of a smile, Elissa had to admit.
When he stood up, taking his bowl to the dishwasher, it was so noted that he had a hell of a hard-on, too! The boy was clad in his pajamas, a striped blue set—no undies. His penis was erect and poking out like a banana, and very prominent, Elissa could see.
"Damn, Theo!" Elissa exclaimed, "Who are you thinking about?"
Naturally, Theo was embarrassed. He shielded his pronounced prong, but it was a little late. Elissa kept interest and was not embarrassed.
"You want to smoke some shit?"
Do Catholic Priests like little boys? Do bears in the woods like soft furry rabbits? Do Jews like money? Elissa fetched some "shit," telling her brother it was Purple Haze. She also had a baggie of Maui and Purple Kush. Theo was impressed. Not too mention astounded. Was his sister a Pusher or simple User? A Dealer? A Transporter? Whatever. In the backyard, they lit up and toked.
Laying on their backs, giggling at the stars, Elissa reached over, resting her hand haphazardly-like on her brother's still erect erection.
Theo froze. This was new.
"God damn," his sister blurted, "how big is it?"
Theo couldn't answer, he was stymied.
The girl began feeling her brother's prong, squeezing it as she went up and down the lengthy prong, finding the base and then the tip before assessing that indeed—her brother had a long dong! Slowly, the happy smoked-filled girl slipped her hand under her brother's pajamas, finding his hard cock at the ready.
Theo tensed—all thoughts dispersed in an unequal pattern. The stars above him faded, erupting into a galaxy-wide spread of blinking lights that slowly disappeared, revealing a pair of jiggling orbs.
His sister's titties!
Elissa was sitting on him!
Theo grinned, suppressed a fart, then realized that she was naked and squashing his beef stick. Awesome! And from squashing to wriggling. Then she moved her cunt up and down the length of the dong before gliding it expertly into her sex. Theo's mind was blown. He shuddered. His ass clenched, his balls cinched, and a squirt of unprotected cum blasted hotly into his sister's twat.
The fuck was on.
'would you have sex with your brother if you could?' and he was (of course) willing.
Ebony was stunned inside and out at the intrusive question. The reply was a resounding NO. She smoked dope, cheated on an exam—once; had sex with her boyfriend's best friend—once; took money from her Mom's purse—more than once; got a tattoo on her butt cheek (and planning one on her poon, too!) But she was not into sibling fucking!
Well, not until…
'you want to see your brother naked.'
And,
'you want to play with his cock (and balls.)'
Along with,
'you want to suck & fuck your brother.'
Ebony took the implanted commands, deciphered them, digested them, then followed up on them, bringing Oscar Toadinmypants' family intrusion to its full climax. Well, not fully—there was a bit more. Just a bit.
Like,
Before Ebony enacted on her implanted thoughts of engaging incestuously with her brother, there was Clair—the mother. Now, Clair was indeed a fine woman. Her skin was a smooth light chocolate brown, soft complexion, incredible eyes, fantastic smile, and a general appeal that was sexual. She was one fine specimen of a woman.
And although Oscar had desires for young stuff, he did set aside those yearnings for the occasional hottie such as Clair. And strangely, as it turns out, she was more susceptible to accepting electronically implanted naughty notions than Ebony! With Ebony, about a week and weekend to fully implement the notions of naughtiness; with Clair, three days.
Whether or not the fine woman had harbored sexual tendencies regarding her only son was not known, but Oscar determined that she had. There, too, were inklings of same unnatural wants regarding Theo's best friend, Walter. Oh! The woman had potential! She was a professional woman, a doctor! She sang in her church's choir, was a pillar of the community, well respected, a mother, a wife, in the "high income" bracket, and had fantasies of getting double dicked by her son and his chum!
Awesome!
Of course, timing was everything. Certain people in the house had to be out—and others in. For their first encounter, Oscar decided that it should be Mother and Son only. That took another two days; the three girls still in the house went to a girlfriend's house to spend the night, while lawyer daddy went out of town on business. This left Mother and Son alone. (well, sort of alone...there's Oscar lurking in the dark)
After dinner, some chit-chat, Clair retired to her bedroom and private bath for a long, relaxing, needful soak in the tub. Theo made for his room, got naked, masturbated, but held off jerking off. Selecting his Mom's panties from his collection, he laid the silk beige garment on his bed and positioned himself on it. Then, spanking himself, he humped the panty, thinking of putting it to his Mom.
Theo had no compunction about the illicit deed. On his own, yeah—if he could have sex with his very own mum, he would. If she were willing, he was very willing. Oscar had very little in the way of weaving his electronic web in Theo. Oscar left Theo to continue his lust and traipsed to the bathroom where Clair was very muchly relaxed. She was very easy to mind manipulate at that point. Oscar had no prob continuing to insert programming regarding her interludes with her son.
On her bed, and after Oscar had had first dibs making love to her, Clair lay in wonderlust, receiving more electronic input. The woman's poon was deliciously snug despite repeated birthings and occasional boinkings from hubby. She was readily accepting of dick and often did so infacto fantasize about getting dicked by her son! Oscar's schlong satisfyingly satisfied her. Clair's cunt very well indeed satisfied him! He tried to go at it slowly, but after a few pumps, he was "all in."
Clair was definitely a fine creature. Long, tall, proportioned "just right." And that pussy! Oscar ached—and thought of how much Ebony's cunt was possibly going to be. A second boinking was required; this time, he did go at the doings slowly so as to take in the woman's body as a whole. Every curve of her he felt; sweat rivered off their naked bodies and Oscar felt his mind baking.
Sometime later, and in wandered Theo—on his own!
Oscar lay still, not sure if he was "visible" or other.
"Sorry, Mom," Theo said apologetically, "I didn't know you were there."
Hmmm, it's her bedroom, where the fuck else was she supposed to be?
"It's alright, son," she said in her sweet mommy voice, "I'm just resting."
...and sweating, reeling, cumming.
Theo lingered at the partially opened door. He was naked. His mommy was naked. The unseen Oscar was naked. I'm naked while writing this. You read it—you can't unread it. Picture if you will—a four-foot Little Person, in a motorized wheelchair, butt bare-assed naked. Picture it. Picture it—I got a thick black beard, too. Stubby arms, stubby legs, stubby "stubby." Picture it—
Theo slowly backed away—
"You don't have to leave, Theo," Clair said. The words trembled on her lips. The room was dark, save for the light from the bathroom. That light cast a dim shadow on the bedroom. The air conditioner blowing its cooling breeze through the vents made the only sound—save for Oscar's heart pounding near out of his chest.
With slow intent, did Theo traipse into the room—his fully erect cock leading the way. And it was like slow motion in progress, watching as Theo mounted his Mother. Clair gently placed her hands on her son's body, caressing him gently as he eased his teenaged cock into her womanly cunt. One of them moaned. The process of progress progressed slowly; their illicit lovemaking steamed the very air about them. Moans came from the two of them—as well as from Oscar himself!
Theo slowly lay on his Mother, moving just his hips. Clair wrapped her arms, and then her legs, about her naked naughty son, and the proverbial fuck was on! Slowly. There seemed to be no hurry, and the two engaged sexually for several minutes before the proverbial lust consumed them, leading to the only thing that mattered—cumming.
It was a blissful unionship, cumulating with a shared eruption that was orgasmic! Clair announced (loudly) that "I'M CUMMING!" Theo made a similar statement. The two became one as their arms and legs became akimbo; they rolled on the bed, tossed this way and that, and entered into that special realm that only dogs (male dogs mainly) seem to enjoy.
And immediately after shared orgasm, they were doing it again.
This time with more passion.
They were kissing and pawing one another and humping whilst on their sides. Then Clair was on top, taking command, bringing her son to a new level of ecstasy. They did more—much more than "simple fucking." They meshed and rolled, thrashing about madly until cumming into a fantastic explosion that zapped their energies totally.
Did a little something for Oscar, too.
*
The spree
In the misty moonlight, evil lurked lurkingly. At a popular megamart parking lot, a young girl caught the attention of Bullet Ramshod. (remember Bullet? Previous chapter) The Target wore non-jean type pants, kind of loose, turquoise in color, and a paisley shirt that was kind of a size larger than she was and that hid the fact whether or not she had any titties. She did have long, curly light brown hair, glasses, and was about eleven years young—or so.A light misty rain had descended upon the lot, and regardless of the inclement weather, the parking lot was full. Bullet, and his trusty sidekick, Zane, sat in his big American truck, watching with full intent. Zane's attention wandered, though; he had thoughts of other vehicles, other people, the rain, the moon...
Bullet's attention was solely on the Target.
The Target was not alone; there were several others - kids and adults, teens - all milling about a large family SUV, armed with packages and scrambling to be first to get in and out of the misty rain. The SUV was parked some spaces from the annoying parking lot light standard; it was early evening, but the misty rain had brought foreboding clouds, making the area kind of dark and gloomy.
When the parental units were on the other side of the large non-economy vehicle, Bullet made his move. His fingers danced expertly on his Device, directing the Target to move in a maze-like configuration around the various vehicles - especially the big ones. When she arrived at his own, he opened the secondary passenger door behind the primary driver's door. The light that usually came on when any door of the vehicle opened had been disabled - for just such purposes.
The Target was escorted in quickly and laid down on the floorboard.
In the side mirror as Bullet negotiated his way out of the mega lot, he saw frantic members of the Target's family racing around the vehicles where he had just been. The space he had left had been quickly occupied. He thought of the megastore's security cameras, but the lot space was fairly far away, in the garden department, and the weather played a role, also. Having the Target maneuver around the vehicles and then duck down, seemingly "disappearing" among the larger vehicles, helped as well.
At the stop light, Bullet reached back to pat the girl's butt, give it a squeeze, then moseyed on to a more secure locale. Sidekick Zane was none the wiser of being not quite himself. Bullet had expertly "fixed" the boy's mind, so that what he was doing was perfectly A-OK. Perfectly. And Bullet was far from "done" with the boy, his sister, mother, and the best friend, Wayne.
At the secret/hidden locale by the river and the abandoned warehouses, Bullet and Zane moved into the extra cab space behind the main seats. A curtain was drawn for security purposes, the side windows were heavily tinted, adding extra security. A bit of light to illuminate the situation, and it was "down to business". The eleven-year-old (who turns out was actually ten) was stood up and firstly looked over. The girl's name was Amelia. Her favorite color was purple; her eyeglass frames were "purple"; her watch, earrings, a necklace, socks, and yes, even her panties. The watch worried Bullet - there was a blinking light indicating that it was equipped with a tracking device.
Exiting the truck, he took the watch and gave it a mighty throw into the river.
Returning to the truck, he moved to another location, just to be safe.
Back to the purple panties. The girl's top was removed, and Bullet eyed her just-beginning breasts. The bra was removed, and Bullet fondled those "just-beginning" breasts. Zane got naked and had a hard-on. He was making out to be a fine-fine sidekick. The loose-fitting, turquoise-like non-jean type pants were lowered, and there those purple panties greeted the two onlookers.
Nice, snug-fitting, form-fitting, perfectly fitting. Zane hammered his schlong while Bullet undressed himself, having a mound full of sordid ideas in store for the unsuspecting, mindless girl. After lowering her panties and helping her step out of them and her pants, she was laid out on the bench seat and further looked upon.
Smoothing his hands up and down the young girl's legs, Bullet got extremely hard. His desires mounted, and though he thought of having Zane "break" the girl, Bullet dismissed him, taking first dibs himself. Firstly, he went down on her. The girl was a virgin; she wasn't into fingering herself - or anyone else! She farted, burped, and heard her daddy rip one "every now and then." No boys her age had she seen naked (but had heard them fart). Little boys she HAD seen naked (but she gave little thought to their little dangling things.)
Gliding his cock against her very virgin pussy, Bullet thought he was going to explode. He wasn't even IN the girl, and he was already experiencing sensational feelings sensationally! Somehow, he managed to keep himself from busting into the girl and, for the moment, sate himself by simple grinding. The feeling was immeasurably fantastic.
While grinding, he focused his attention not on the pretty girl's face but on Zane's hard throbbing cock. His mind pulled up the images of days past, whereas Zane and his butt buddy Wayne sodomized one another. The boys, too, slobbered on the other's dick, mutually masturbated one another, and then spanked one another to the point where they couldn't stand it.
Then he was in.
Amelia's eyes widened, and her pretty face took on a new look. Bullet's schlong eased in, passed the opening, found the hymen resisting his intent, then busted through that and on into the love canal. Amelia's mouth opened as Bullet made near full entry. His cock was too big for her, and at the moment, he didn't want to hurt her. He moved gently in and out, moving his hands to her very small breasts, squeezing them and fully filling the girl's cunny.
The point where stepping up the pumping action came; Bullet drove his dong fully into Amelia's cunt suddenly, neverminding her age or if he was hurting her - all that mattered was the fuck and cum. He knew he was amoral, big deal. It was a way of life; he wasn't a murderer, wasn't a thief, not a thug. He liked to fuck. There was a philosophy he enjoyed; when you find something you care about - well, that's all that matters. Nothing else matters. Conscience? Never heard of it. When he went to sleep at night - pussy was all he saw in his dreams. That was all there was - pussy! He thought of all the narly ways to attain it - and with the handy-dandy Electronic Mind Altering Device, acquiring his dreams was made all the easier.
There was no escaping it; sometimes the only place to go was inside - not to escape but to be soothed by the outrageousness of his actions. Fucking was all there was; it mattered little to naught how old the pussy was. Young girls were the prettiest, so they were the unfortunate target and subject of his unquenchable lust.
Take the desire away, and he was nothing.
It wasn't much of a philosophy, but it was what he had. Was it a creed to live by? Perhaps. Deflowering a girl, like Amelia, was a "one-time thing." No one could do that! If he fucked a girl for her first time, then that was it - it was special and a one-time, once-in-a-lifetime occurrence. No one else could bust her cherry.
He gave Amelia a final thrust and felt his liquid love creaming inside her. The sensation was more than he could imagine. He felt jets one after another surging through his dick. Every inch was masterfully inside the girl, and it was da bomb!
Using her own panties, he cleaned off his dick and balls. There wasn't a lot of busted cherry juice, but there was enough to be cleaned off. Then he swiped the girl's cunny before tapping Zane to take his turn. Bullet grabbed a soda from the ice chest and swatted his sidekick's ass as he fucked.But boinking his own Mom? Absolutely fabulous!
Watching. Participation was one thing, but not the "only" thing. Watching was cool—especially watching those engaging in sex acts that weren't supposed to be taking place among family members. There was some kind of odd thrill Bullet got from watching the likes of Zane put it to his Mother—and sister. The woman was not overly opposed, but she was not amoral. She knew the very concept was wrong, illegal, illicit.
Spanking? No, not so much into that shtick. Taking it up the ass. Being pissed on? No. None of that shit. Plain ole fuck me. Of course, with enough Happy Smoke in her, "taking it up the ass" and being pissed on no longer an issue.
Watching Zane fuck his Mother—it was way better than the boy humping his sister. The girl was cute, way cute. She was smart, inquisitive, a typical kid—and pretty. She was especially pretty when naked, legs spread, and a dick slamming into her crevice. Whether that dick was her brother's, the boy from the gas station, or his own wasn't the issue.
Bullet did enjoy time with Arlene. Sinking his cock into was a thrill ride! He enjoyed humping Elaine, sure, but the girl's mother had a more suitable pussy. When sinking his pud into a cunt, he didn't overly wish to destroy the pussy—of a young girl. Ploughing his way up ye olde cornhole of a young girl was also deemed (although essential) unnecessary for harm. He could breech a young girl, cum on her sweet face, work his way into her virgin cunny—but not be a monster about it and be rough. With a woman like Arlene, the pussy was usually well broken-in and all was well within.
But Bullet was a perv and liked the young stuff. Sodomizing Zane and his whacky friend, Wayne was a double thrill. Watching the boys go through their paces of being homos was an added bonus. Neither boy on their own would submit to such heinous acts—not on their own.
It was that mind thing, forcing folk to engage with one another in heinous acts atrociously. Unsupervised, people act atrociously—like with the world wide web; a person can "sign on" and go to a chat site and act up the fool; cuss, make crude remarks, be crude, be an animal and all the better. No one knows who you are—except God, so good luck when that comes down.
There was the subtle way of enacting force of will and the hard core manner. Either way by electronic means or other. Bullet preferred the electronic manner; not that it was more subtle but that it was easier. Having Zane and Wayne engage sexually was a mind blower—both had been previously slamming gay guys they knew. Bullet put it to them to put it to each other and change thusly their perspective. Next door, the Lambhurt family was also engage in subtle narly engagements.
Bullet got interested when one late evening he saw Greg and Marcia hanging out together in the backyard. Then they slipped into the garden shed. They were not biological brother and sister, Marcia's mom had been widowed over a year; Greg's dad had been divorced. Marcia had two brothers, younger. Greg had two sisters, also younger.
With a sigh, Marcia was overheard to say "So, I guess we better get at it, huh?"
Greg shrugged and seemed embarrassed as well as proverbially deep in thought. The garden shed was cluttered with plants, sacks of shit (manure), rakes, a lawn mower, typical stuff for a garden shed. It was a little musty and a lot rank. Regardless, it was an "ok" setting for privacy.
"Dad said "whenever"." Greg said somewhat sheepishly.
Marcia nodded. She was an "ok" kind of girl, kind of plain, small dainty nose, SMALL dainty titties, small frame all around. She was fourteen—but could easily pass for twelve! Greg was a year older; he was taller, thick mop of jet black hair, a nice looking lad who teetered on the morality of what was being contemplated.
"Maybe we should wait?" he proposed.
"Dad said we should do it—soon." Marcia shrugged.
Greg nodded, twisted his lips thoughtfully, "Ok." He said a little whimsically and began peeling off his clothes. A more suitable locale could have been found Bullet thought—the garden shed? Really? There was even the great outdoors of the backyard, the treehouse, garage, the old mattress in the alley…
When Greg peeled off his plain blue t-shirt—he got the eye approval of his sister. She tried not to show her smile—which was not hard to "hide" due to the lack of proper lighting. There was a bare bulb providing "some" light.
Marcia slowly pulled off her off-pink top. No bra. Greg eyed the girl with a Devil's grin. 'Not bad.'
Off came their shoes then down (and off) came their pants.
Greg was naked right off—no undies. Commando!
Marcia had on light blue boy shorts.
Greg watched her as she slowly slid the undies down, stepped out of them, then stood up. Was it their first time being naked together? Bullet hated to intervene as they seemed to be acting on their own.
Seen each other naked? Yep.
Sex? No.
In the beginning, when they had become a "family", Greg and Marcia were modest but not so much their siblings—but not outlandish about it. Darting to and from their bathroom or racing nakedly up and down the hall on a lark.
Did Greg have thoughts of the narly kind regarding Marcia?
Yeah. He was a normal boy.
He had two sisters, Jennifer and Cyndi. Anything there?
No.
Any desires to do anything with them?
No, actually. Greg was a moral person—well, he was.
On Marcia's side, there was a little naughtiness going on before the family blend. Brother Charles was an avid masturbator and sometimes—sometimes in the bathroom (before the family blend) he rubbed his hard pud against Marcia's ass. And Marcia let him! And Marcia sometimes tugged her panties down and let him rub his bare cock against her bare ass! She also let him have a gander at her naked cunt, watch her pee in the toilet and one time just before the family blended together she stood in the shower and peed standing up—and brother Charles was with her showering with her!
Nothing, though, with little brother, Tommy.
But there was potential!
Marcia was moralistically sound, too; like Greg. But, upon further digging, Bullet discovered that the 8th grader WAS semi willing to be "all the way" naughty with brother Charles. Not up the ass and no skull fucking with subsequent jiz squirting on her face, either. And with the new brother in the family she was also equally semi willing to be naughty with him. She just feared getting pregnant or some lame ass disease. She also didn't want a "rep" at school. A new school she and her brothers had to go to and she wasn't overly thrilled. Two boys at the new junior high were seeking her favor and she was considering doing something of the naughty kind with them. That venture was for her to have something of a reputation but not as a slut.
Complicated.
Greg thought of Marcia as "ok." She looked ok, didn't smell, but wasn't overly "pretty." She passed easily for twelve and in that—Greg was interested. There were unnatural thoughts regarding his sisters, Jennifer mostly and mainly. There were girls his sister knew that also tempted Greg. There were girls who were a bit younger, sisters of the girls his sister knew. Greg had potential!
Thinking deeply, "Uh, Dad said I had to—uh, you know, lick." Greg was embarrassed at broaching the approach. Marcia pursed her lips, nodded, then put herself up on a low bench. She lay down and Greg moved up to her—the light streaming in from the grimy window and the low light from the bare bulb casted an generous glow onto the nude girl. Greg's cock was hard. Slowly, methodically, he stroked his bone before proceeding.
Marcia opened her legs and was apprehensive from the onset. Greg gently lifted her legs pushing them back. He eyed the girl's cunny; it was lightly covered with fine blond pubes. Precum coated his piss slit and a grin as big as the outdoors filled his face. Slowly he went down on his new sister's cunt—he did have thoughts of doing same to Jennifer.
And Cyndi?
Cyndi was six—he had no thoughts of doing anything sexual with Cyndi.
Well! We'll see about that!
Greg licked Marcia's cunt—all over. He wasn't a cunt licking expert but did a fair job just the same. Marcia clenched herself (all over), grippe the edge of the bench, and was seemingly "getting off" just from her brother's tongue action. And although Marcia was supposed to suck Greg's brotherly dong, Greg let that go and inserted himself into his sister's cunt.
Whether or not she was a "virgin" wasn't clear; it was kinda dark in the shed so minute details like that were uncertain. The boy slid most the way in, pulled out and humped the entrance of the pussy itself before sliding back in and from Bullet's vantage point—the boy went all the way in! A little pumping action and some three minutes later and the deed was done—amidst a lot of fanfare. Marcia made a lot of noise; not loud but undulating noises as streams of her own juices flowed from her snatch.
Greg's announcement of "I'M CUMMING!" shook the rafters. He shuddered, farted, and creamed his sister's cunt (inside and out) then pulled out to squirt a massive finale wad onto her. Then he restuffed himself back into her for a furious one and a half minute fuck finish. Then he was done and done in. Laying on his sweating heaving sister he suckled her young teenage titties, cupped her ass then somehow had the strength to pick her up and carry her about in some sort of dizzy dance. Marcia was "pumping" him as he did so.
A pile of canvas was their bed. Clumsily they fell together in a heap; arms and legs akimbo. Marcia wound up on top. It was a perfect view (for Bullet).Marcia began to hump, grinding her cunny against her brother's sex. Greg gripped his sister's ass tightly, prying her cheeks open and giving the unseen onlooker the eyeful he greatly enjoyed.
Another round of fucking ensued. Marcia seemed to be in full command. She raised herself up, then guided Greg's prong into her. With slow, deliberate motions, she moved UP and DOWN—UP and DOWN—UP and then DOWN. Slowly. Slowly. S-l-o-w-l-y. It was intense, in a slow lovemaking manner. Marcia would move her hips/sex all the way to almost where Greg's cock would pop out—then she knew and slid herself back down. It was agonizing all around.
Finally, they succumbed to a most delicious shared orgasm. They collapsed, no—they melted into one being. Steam rose from their bodies. Neither body moved for several minutes. Greg had to push his naked sister off of him; he sat up and took another couple of minutes to gather himself, then he helped Marcia up. Grabbing their clothes, they left the shed and made for the house to shower.
Slipping out of the shed, and Bullet (still unseen) was stunned to see Mike slipping out of the same shed! Had he been there all the time? Hmmm. Did Mike have an EMAD, also? Were the kids affected by the EMAD or acting on their own as Bullet thought? Hmmm.
It's a family thing
On another visit, Bullet was even awed at the family next door.
In the family room, Mike was hearing it from Cyndi and Tommy. Apparently, Miss Kitty Carrie-All was "missing" and Cyndi was accusing Tommy of taking her and hiding her—an act Tommy strongly denied 'cause, "I wouldn't touch her dollie!" 'cause it's a girl thing. The house had been searched to no avail.
Then, young Tommy accused Cyndi of taking his toy kazoo out of revenge. An act Cyndi adamantly denied. The two children, Cyndi age six and Tommy age seven, got into a yelling contest, to which Mike had had enough. Carol was present, also. Bullet wanted to catch up with Greg and Marcia but found the happening in the family room a little more entertaining. And it did get entertaining when young Cyndi was laid across Mike's lap and smacked on the ass.
Cyndi wore a typical shortie kid's dress, and the first smack was dull and with the dress shielding the tyke's bum. Barely. Cyndi wriggled but was held firm by her dad, while young Tommy stood by sheepishly antsy and shielding his own butt. His mom sat behind him, holding him still.
Cyndi got another smack, and then her shortie dress was moved up, and she received another smack. Tommy got more wiggly, to where his mom had to hold him in earnest. Mike landed another smack, and Cyndi got more wiggly. Then the panties, yellow, were tugged down, revealing a mostly very white ass slightly turning red.
Mike smoothed his hand about the youngster's cheek, then cast an eye to Tommy. "Come here," he told the boy. Carol ushered the boy by a tap to his butt, and he came to stand where Mike directed him. Had he seen his sister's bare butt before wasn't clear—but he ogled in awe just the same.
Mike whispered something—something that struck his step-son with shock if not panic. Mike whispered again, leaning in to whisper directly into the lad's ear.
Tommy blinked his eyes and thought thoughtfully before nodding and stretching out his hand to touch his sister's bare butt. That was followed by poking his finger to his sister's butt hole. The boy exhibited angst. His mouth hung open, and he began to be wiggly while standing in place.
Then, for shock value on Bullet's part—young Tommy leaned forward and KISSED the cheeks of his new little sister. Each cheek. Then—THEN, while the girl herself pulled her own cheeks open, the little boy kissed/licked his new little sister's butthole! He did!
That was followed by Mike taking the boy by the elbow and quickly placing him in front of his new little sister. Then, THEN she partook of the hard dinky virtually poking her in the face. Bullet was floored. What was going on here!? Little Cyndi took Tommy's dick and sucked-sucked-sucked like a lollipop! She did! She suckled his bare nuggets, too! And all the while, Carol, the boy's mother, sat casual-like behind him, caressing his pert little butt!
Then, disbelievingly, Mike pushed his pants and underwear down and began to blatantly masturbate! Bullet didn't know what the fuck was going on, but something was not right. Or maybe it was. Anyways, Cyndi sucked and sucked and then sucked some more until such time as Mike brought Tommy back around to her bare butt (that was still slightly reddened). The boy's cock was guided to the girl's cunt. A little schooling, and the boy was IN the girl, and pumping soon ensued.
Bullet assumed that for sure an EMAD was being used. Was it Mike—or someone else? Hmmm hmmm hmmmmmmmm
Little Tommy humped a good hump, he wasn't an expert, and his little puddling popped out "now and then". His dad, though, helped put it back in—sometimes it was into Cyndi's cunt—sometimes it was into her cornhole. Mike patted his son's ass—and continually stroked his daddy dick.
Using a hand-dandy moist cloth that Carol produced, Tommy's dick and Cyndi's pussy and asshole were cleaned. Then Cyndi slid off of her daddy's lap, and Tommy took her place. A little swat to his ass and with a little cooing encouragement, Cyndi kissed Tommy's butt.
Further encouragement, and she kissed his butthole, too!
After the spanking—and kissing, there was the hugging. And Carol undressed herself. Not a bad dame! Nice supple titties, a firm fanny, good form all around. She wasn't too tall, a nice round face, could sing like an angel, and fuck/suck like a devil! On her knees, the sweet singing damsel went, taking Mike's throbbing hard dong and working it before applying her mouth to it. Tommy and Cyndi stood by flanking—giggling and watching in some awe.
Suddenly, in walks Greg and Marcia. Their eyes bulged; Mike smiled and nodded for the two clothed ones to come in. Semi reluctantly, they did, walking shoulder to shoulder. They watched in some odd trepidation as their mother sucked on their father's cock.
"Greg, Marcia," Mike said, "why don't you go ahead and take off YOUR clothes." Mike was a congenial man; polite, well-groomed, well-educated, a nice man. He was tall, dark-haired, a dazzling smile, and had a seven and a half inch cock. After a couple of minutes of earnest sucking, and Carol pulled back, smacking her lips. She brought Cyndi around to be "in position" and cooed to the girl, who had a curious look etched upon her face. She did, though, at length, put her mouth to the huge daddy dick and suckle on the head.
Greg and Marcia were adamantly stunned.
"Whoa!" said Greg.
Marcia was unable to produce words but was greatly astonished.
Both stripped out of their clothes, and Greg's prong was steadfastly—hard.
Carol eyed Greg's schlong and went right to it. She firstly took hold of the average teenage meat stick, worked it, teased it (with her thumb to the piss slit making small circles) then clutched the fuzzy nuggets before putting her mouth to it and "going down."
Mike made a head nod to Marcia, who pursed her lips and looked a little angry. But she moved around her mother and brother and came to her knees at her daddy's side. Cyndi had pulled away and was considering whether or not she liked the taste of daddy dick. Mike cooed to his bio daughter, waggled his cock, and made small circles on the girl's back with his hand. Marcia nodded; she had thin lips, a pimple here, a zit there, long hair near to her butt, smallish titties, but butt bare ass naked and all of her was just fine. She leaned down and began sucking on her daddy's cock.
Greg was reeling while his mother sucked him; he rocked on his feet and pumped into her mouth. He made sounds unintelligible, fucked her face, and blasted a hot load into her mouth in just under two minutes. Then, while he calmed down some—Cyndi was "instructed" to suck him. Mike said something like "Cyndi, why don't you please your brother."
Cyndi paused a second or two, then almost happily took to the task assigned to her. Greg was reeling; one hand on his butt, the other on the back of his bio mom's head. Marcia was awestruck and possibly dumbfounded—but she sucked and sucked and sucked. When she pulled back, sitting up, she got a face blast of blast. She didn't like it much and made a face as jets of daddy cum splashed onto her face. Plucking up Cyndi's handy-to-reach panties, he wiped his jiz off her sweet face, then pulled her up onto his lap. A hug came, then a kiss. Mike's hands cupped his daughter's ass, and though his cock had just orgasmed, it was still mightily hard. Expertly, he began guiding it into her twat. The girl wriggled and was only half-heartedly into the incestuous deed.
She had no choice and soon was sitting down fully pierced by her dad's amazing cock. Meanwhile, Carol "assumed" the position (on all fours) and had her cunny pierced by her son—all the while sucking on Tommy's cock! Bullet held fast—he wasn't sure of his circumstances. Something was amiss, and it was best he stay "hidden."
A great gusher of love spunk ended Mike and Marcia's union—evidence by the amount of cum slathering Mike's tremendous cock. Marcia, too, seemed to have experienced something of an orgasm. She clung to her daddy, the two melded as one, and Mike's cock finally slipped out—squirting more up the girl's bare back.
Greg fucked his mother—and then some. His steaming schlong spanked the woman's ass before he collapsed onto the floor, heaving. Gobs of his cream oozed out of Carol's cunt and asshole. Good boy!
Strangely, Miss Kitty was found on Cyndi's bed, and Tommy's kazoo was found on his bed. Strange. Mike took a couple of stabs to Cyndi's poon, but he was a man of limited character and morals, and those kept him from piercing the girl. Greg and Tommy, however, did.Tommy fucked his little sister, followed by Greg, who balked a little at the beginning, but Bullet saw—finally, Mike twisting the dial of his watch on his wrist. The watch was oversized, similar to a diver's watch. Bullet surmised, then, that it was none other than an Electronic Mind Altering Device!
Bullet was beside himself with his own angst; he so wanted to join in. Greg was doing a fine job at stuffing his prick into Cyndi. He was gentle about his progress; he pulled out to hump the girl's cunt, then re-entered her for a finale, squirting gobs of spunk in and out all over the child's poon.
There are nicknames and then there are nicknames—some are cute, some are curt, some are WTF!? Some names are descriptive; like, Rock—'cause the guy is built like one. Or Fiddles, 'cause that's what he does, fiddle around or plays one. Slaves used nicknames to fool their Masters. Other names are forms of affection or derogatory in nature. Other names are associated with the owner's profession; like, "Bones" for a member of the physician family; Sparky for an electrician, Geek for a computer nerd, Sarge for a member of the military family, Fatso for a person of "weighty" issues, Shorty for a person who is height challenged.
Bullet—his given name by fact, encountered a young lad who was unaware of his nickname referred to something most girls found disgusting. Jiz. It was actually his initials of his three names, James Ignito Zamboneme. He was part Mexican-American; a happy kid of eleven, seriously into soccer, liked to adventure, and was just starting to "notice" girls.
James "Jiz" Zamboneme was "adventuring" across a meadow to some nearby hills and forest, searching for a "lost mine." He was in the company of his best friend, Mario "Oreo" Guninazaleas and two girls also friends—Julianne Barnwithhay and Kathy "Kayleen" Zonkmibrest. The boys were eleven years young, the girls a year younger.
Normally, usually, children of any age, just didn't "go off" adventuring. Normally, usually, things didn't turn out well for those who did. But this was the country, not the city. Most "bad things" happened in the city. Sure, bad elements were just about everywhere, but in the countryside it was deemed "safe enough." So, Jiz, Oreo, Jeebie, and Kayzee ventured off across a huge, well-overgrown meadow to seek fame, fortune, adventure at some hidden, abandoned train depot called Whistle Stop.
James "Jiz" Ignito Zamboneme was the serious one of the group; short-haired, easy to get along with, but he was serious about it. Both parents were Mexican-Americans with his grandparents being directly from Mexican land and living with their children, Jiz's parents. He spoke the language of both lands, played a harmonica, and was keenly interested in plants, bugs, and stuff like that.
Mario "Oreo" Guninazaleas was a happy-go-lucky kid, wore glasses, an avid reader, liked to build birdhouses, and eat as many Oreo cookies as possible. A likeable kid, he volunteered to help out others wherever he saw a need. He also famously "volunteered" others to help out, also.
Julianne "Jeebie" Barnwithhay was a nice-looking girl who had beautiful features; long brown hair to mid-back, supple, beginning titties, a very pretty face, a curious girl who was casual in all styles of dress.
Kayleen "Kayzee" Zonkmibrest was pretty in her own right; shy but curious, mostly flat-chested, nice-nice butt, very bright white teeth, beautiful green eyes, a sweet kid who liked to draw and paint butterflies. She also wrote poems and short stories—all about butterflies.
So off across the meadow they went, Mario stopping to check plants, weeds, and crawly bugs that neither Julianne nor Kathy were into. Kathy was only interested in butterflies—and there were plenty to keep her interested. James wanted to move along, get out of the meadow—and heat, and find the abandoned train station.
At the end of the meadow, choked with weeds, wild mint, catnip, stinkweed, heather, was an old wooden fence. The fence encircled the entire meadow, where at the opposite end were some horses, goats, and cows. There the meadow was more lush with edible grass and a couple of natural springs running through it. James ushered his friends through the fence, crossed a small creek, and entered into the woods.
To the right were rustic, rocky hills, some were more rustic than others. To the left, a long stretch of meadows and farmland.
Once inside the woods, the gang took a break. Though James wanted to get to the train depot, he had to admit he was tired, too. The gang threw their backpacks down and collapsed, enjoying the shelter of the woods from the intense Summer sun. Bottles of water all around. A little more rest, and the group was on their way again. It wasn't quite noon, and James wanted to get to the site before noon so there would be time enough to scout around and then hustle back home before supper time.
Then it was back on trail, with Jiz anxious and his followers—not so much.
There was an old abandoned car, a railroad flat car, an abandoned mine that was boarded up, parts of a building, parts of a freight car, and then the biggest find was the fully intact construct of a caboose. It was sitting on some old, very rusted rails, partly buried in overgrown grass and weeds.
With no fear, the kids clambered onto the rear-end of the train to give it a good going over. "Ewewe," said Kayleen, "it stinks!" The old caboose did indeed "stink"; it was musty and dank, but the group looked over the old cookware, a huge brass (now green) bell, the old stove, boots, and assorted whiskey bottles. Not as exciting as first thought. After exiting the caboose, the kids meandered along the remains of a railroad track, coming at last to the remains of an old-old abandoned small train station/depot. An old sign with faded, chipped lettering read out: WHISTLE STOP. The building was well weathered and leaning to one side; there was a fence where horses once were corralled—the lupines and wildflowers had practically concealed the old wooden lodge poles.
The whole area was dank, musty, and spooky. Not too mention "warm" and abuzz with noisy summer bugs—one of which hit Julianne on the side of the face, making her scream and run wildly about as if the bug had gone down her back. The boys giggled 'girls.'
After the commotion, there was more exploring; but the day was getting on, past noon. The day was also warming up—a lot. The air was heavy and sticky, sullen with no air movement and little sound. Some trees there were, rocky rustic hills, lots of weeds, shrubs—
"Why are those rocks red like that?" asked Kayleen (she preferred "Kayleen" over the shorter version "Kathy"; was ok with the nicknames "Kat" and "Kayzee".)
"The rocks have iron minerals in them," Mario answered, "the amount of iron exposed to the air is what causes the rocks to turn red like that." He was a beginning scientist.
"Like rust," added Jiz, "on shovels and old cars."
The abandoned building wasn't too much of a treasure trove; there were old lanterns, miner equipment, sacks of cement—that had turned into cement, and other assorted miscellaneous crap normally associated with an "old abandoned" train station. There were remains of railroad tracks, some buried in the ground and the rest obscured by overgrowth.
The girls were getting overheated; the boys, too. Jiz wanted to go on "just a little more"; the others—not so much. With a sigh, "You stay here, I'm just gonna climb that hill and look around, then we'll head back."
The girls and Mario were cool with that—er, hot, er…
James "Jiz" Ignito Zamboneme scampered off—he hated to admit it (so he didn't) but he was hot and wore out too. The air was sticky, muggy, and downright unpleasant. It was hard to breathe, but the youngster climbed up the rusty, rocky hill (which was all of about a hundred feet or so). At the top, he surveyed the area around; it was quite a sight to see and much more to behold. Juniper pines dotted the landscape, bristlecone pines and limber pines, too. When there was a chanced breeze, the air was overly scented with the scent of pine. Fragrant wildflowers and wild weed—mint and catnip, also were present. Jiz noted how the breeze wafting through the pines and scrub oaks, live oaks, and other deciduous trees were not unlike the sounds of the ocean he had been to.
There were bluebells and owl's clover on the rusty hill; the intensity of the colors were—intense. So was the heat. It was getting to be a bit much, so it was time to abandon the adventure and make for home.
Then he saw it.
It was big. It was HUGE. It glinted in the summer sun and was none other than an old steam locomotive. Jiz nearly "jizzed" his beige hiking shorts; he also nearly fell as he scrambled back down the hot hill to tell his friends.
"Hey!" he shouted breathlessly, "come look what I found!" and he darted down the tracks with his friends half-heartedly following.
Big Blue was a 4-8-4 configuration; there was a huge-huge 60-foot long boiler, a separate coal car, 54-inch diameter drive wheels that all cumulated to an impressive speed of 65-miles per! In her day, she thundered across the Plains, pulling huge freight cars behind her weighing several thousands of pounds. An impressive machine commanding great respect.
That was then—this is now. In the late 1930's and through the War years and into the 1950s, she had been the biggest thing around—besides Aunt Betsy and the fat bearded lady at the carnival. Other steam locomotives of that era were painted the typical black. Not 4087; she was painted blue. Most of that blue was gone now; she leaned a little to port, the coal car that run before the boiler was gone; there was the huge water tank car behind, and that was tilted also.The tracks the behemoth locomotive sat on were practically buried in the soft dirt—which was the ultimate demise of Big Blue—after some torrential rains had soaked the area and Big Blue came thundering along—the tracks supporting her didn't. Too huge to move by any means, the impressive machine was left.
Jiz was jazzed. Only at the park museum had he seen relatives of Big Blue, but they were dwarfed by Blue's magnitude. Even the others were impressed and uttered "Wow" and "Whoa" and "Nice." Jiz climbed about the mammoth machine—finding the metal a bit hot to the touch.
"OW!" he said loudly, "Shit, piss, fuck!" he added.
The girls blushed, as Jiz didn't often cuss—but when he did, those were the words he used. He did manage to sit on the engineer's chair and fool with all the valves and levers. Most wouldn't budge, but he tried anyway. Mario tried the cord that operated Blue's horn. Nothing. Of course.
"I don't want to be a bitch," said Julianne, "but it's freaking hot!"
Jiz had to agree to that. But now that he knew where Big Blue was, he was going to make repeated visits. It was like receiving the bestest Christmas present ever, or being rewarded for a good deed, appreciated for something he had done for someone else (without being asked to do so.) Jiz was overly elated at the find. Big Blue. It wasn't "blue" anymore, lots of rust, but it was still sound and Jiz bet that with some water, oil, coal, the old girl could be up and running the rails again.
In the meantime—it was scorching hot. Time to go.
The kids said goodbye to Big Blue and struck off for home. No one was looking forward to the long trek—it was in the middle of the day for this excursion and "hot enough to make the Devil sigh." Most of the trek was in the shade of the trees, but then there was a long open stretch where the sun was all over them. No other way around it—the direct route was through the meadow in the open.
Coming to a road that was as old as the train tracks Big Blue sat on (and squashed), the kids followed the old meadow fence. The weeds and wild grass were about as tall as them! The road was apparently forgotten; huge ruts gouged in the old dirt road were now choked with weeds. And bugs. When James dragged his foot into the rut, he disturbed a great many sated bugs who flew up and then descended upon them all—especially Julianne who hated/despised bugs. She shrieked and then ran.
Jiz and the others followed, brushing off the angered, disturbed bugs. A bug of "some kind" was inside the collar of Julianne's shirt—the girl was having a fit as she ran. Through the lodge pole fence and into the meadow beyond, pulling off her shirt as she did so. Flinging the shirt about, she dislodged the bug, but there were others to take its place, landing on her now bare neck and back, sending the girl into a frenzy.
Jiz and the others had barely made their way to the distraught girl where she had been standing when she bolted off again. Most of the disturbed bugs had abated, so Jiz, Kayleen, and Mario were able to take a brief breather. Then they were off chasing after the girl who was practically out of sight.
Then,
"Wait up!" Jiz said (mostly to his exhausted companions.)
The trio halted; the air was very heavy laden, sticky and muggy. Some bugs associated with a heavy meadow could be heard. Nothing else.
"Where'd she go?" Mario asked.
"Julianne!" called out Kayleen.
No Julianne.
"Julianne!" called out Mario.
No Julianne.
"Hey, Julianne, where are you?" called out Jiz.
No response.
Alright, let's not panic; let's all scream in a perfectly rational manner.
Slowly the gang made their way through the thick, heavy-laden meadow, with each step zapping their energy. The air was getting heavier, too. Then, the thick, dense wild weeds gave way to waist-high wild grass.
"I smell water!" said Mario.
There was water. A small lake—right out in the open! The closest trees were a hundred yards away. There was a sign with faded, chipped lettering leaning on a pile of old discarded tires—Durcilla's Pond.
"Wasn't there a girl named Durcilla," Mario said, remembering some history of the area, "and she drowned in a pond?"
Jiz didn't answer but quickly began shucking his clothing; Julianne was in the pond (clad merely in her panties.) No biggie. Mario and Kayleen followed suit—with Kayleen being a little modest and unsure. But the oppressive heat and the rewarding water encouraged her, and she quickly stripped down to her underpants then rushed boldly into the very refreshing water.
Splash! Splash! Splash! The foursome enjoyed the pond, with the boys daringly tredging out to the middle where it was deep—very deep—damn deep. Mario tried to go to the bottom but was unable. Jiz made the effort but was also unable. The girls stayed closer to the bank and were not that adventurous. There wasn't really a "bank," and the pond practically dropped off from the get-go—and was deep. The girls were pretty good swimmers and managed to keep from drowning. But after a while, their dogpaddling efforts got them tired, and they scrambled back onto the ground.
Mario was stunned when he surfaced to see Julianne and Kayleen laying out—clad only in their panties. Panties that were now TIGHTLY snug against their young preteen bodies.
BOING!
SPROING! Was for Jiz as he resurfaced and sighted in on the girls.
"Oh shit!" he breathed, only for Mario to hear.
The boys sputtered water and were also tiring of dog paddling. They made their way to the girls, who had pulled their ball caps down over their eyes to shield them from the blistering rays of the sun. The boys emerged with prominent erections poking out their underwear.
James "Jiz" sat on the one side of Julianne, as he liked her a lot. Mario "Oreo" parked his carcass on Kayleen "Kayzee"'s side. When they laid down—their puds stuck up like a flag pole.
A light breeze came up, giving the underwear-clad crew a little bit of reprieve from the blistering day.
Then someone farted.
The group giggled.
Then, from a distance, thunder was heard.
Julianne sat up, "Was that thunder?" she asked.
"Either that, or Mario's grandpa's in the bathroom again!"
Inside joke. The kids giggled, and it was one more time in the pond.
A little more splashing, but the concerns of the heard thunder alarmed the kids. The skies above them were clear with no clouds nowhere. In the distance, however, there was a great sudden multitude of ominous clouds forming up, and perhaps it was time to boogie.
The gang slipped on their clothes; Kayleen a little put off about having to wear wet underwear.
"Take 'em off," suggested Jiz with a shrug of indifference.
Kayleen paused and glanced at Julianne, who was contemplating the same thing. Mario, too. Jiz didn't contemplate but turned his back to the others and calmly lowered his wet tidy whiteys; his very-very tan body was already mostly dry, so it was no problem slipping on his walking shorts. Most people, adults, while tredging through dense brush, weeds, and anywhere outdoors where bugs were prevalent, usually were sensible enough to wear long pants and even long-sleeved shirts.
Jiz, Oreo, Jeebie, and Kayzee were not into that; short sleeves, no sleeves, short pants, walking shorts. They did have over-the-ankle socks and hiking shoes, though; ball caps, too.
Mario turned his back to the others and was temporarily naked.
Julianne and Kayleen did likewise. Kayleen was embarrassed to go about "without undies" on, but found it to be a unique experience, too. For the boys, going "commando" was a way of life—especially for Mario who preferred a "no undie" day any day!
The air became more sullen; the stickiness level increased, and there was moisture in the air.
"I smell rain," Julianne said.
Just then, lightning flashed in their horizon.
"Oh, shit!" quipped Jiz. He seldom cursed, but when he did, it was for some reason. Thunder cracked and temporarily halted the kids' progress. The storm was gathering in intensity with foreboding clouds darkening. The group was some miles from their home boundary.
"I think we're gonna get wet—again," stated Mario.
Jiz nodded, saying "And we probably shouldn't be out in it." Lightning has a way of changing your perspective on life. He looked serious and, as the proposed leader, looked for a better place to be than "out in the open."
"Let's go there," he said, pointing to the woods.
The "woods" weren't really woods, they were a mixture of live oak and other scrawny assorted trees spaced far apart with lots of shrubs and waist-high weeds, some giant boulders, an old rusting bulldozer, and more sunken-in-the-ground railroad tracks. The tracks led to another steam locomotive. It was a 2-4-0 configuration; 2 small regular wheels in front as guides, then 4 wheels (per side) as drivers, and none underneath the cab.
It was a smaller locomotive than Big Blue, the drivers were about 48-inches.
Part of the locomotive was painted red, and at one time it had been all red, but time and elements of the weathering kind had peeled away the red paint, reminding onlookers that at its beginning, it had been the typical black-painted train. The boiler, too, was small; there was a coal car behind it, a flat car, and a caboose.
When thunder exploded over their heads, the kids forgo checking out the cab and headed for the caboose.
It was just as musty as Big Blue's caboose but not as stinky.
Lightning made the girls shriek and the boys jolt.
"Anyone for coffee?" Jiz chortled as he shook an old red enameled coffee pot. There was no liquid inside, but something rattled. Jiz put the pot back on the old pot-bellied stove and continued to look around.Typical seating with layers of old dirt; the windows were grimy, whiskey bottles old (and new) lay strewn about, and Mario found a pair of old binoculars hanging on a hook. What a find! Old lanterns, leather sacks of "something", and a whole lot of mustiness.
"Maybe we can get a fire going?" queried Julianne.
Jiz was for that; it had suddenly gotten cold and the berating rain was making it worse. There were some old wooden pieces to fit the stove.
'Be careful with that,' the voice in his head said, 'one misstep and the whole thing (caboose) goes up!'
Old newspapers helped as a fire starter and just a couple pieces of wood got the musty atmosphere "cozy."
The rain came. In buckets. So loud that any form of conversation was drowned out.
"Must be a huge cloud over us!" managed to blurt out Jiz.
The others nodded at that assumption and huddled together on the floor by the stove. Strangely, eyes fell onto the green whiskey bottle on the floor. Jiz smiled, Mario was oblivious, the girls blushed. A long few minutes elapsed and then—
Thunder didn't crack, it exploded directly over their heads. The reverberations shook the caboose, sending the "crew" within into utter terror. The girls grabbed the boys, the boys clung to the girls. No one breathed. Kayleen's eyes were the widest they had ever been. Lightning could be seen flashing, fully illuminating the interior of the drab train car.
"Jesus!" exclaimed Jiz.
More thunder, and Julianne was shaking.
Kayleen was close to tears. "Make it go away!" she blurted in trembling lips. Mario clung to her all the tighter, whispering something that got lost in translation—he was frightened, too.
"It will pass," Jiz said, "they always do." He was frightened himself.
But the storm did pass—still left the kids a little shaken, frightened, and stirred. The rain went with the thunder and lightning, but the group was still traumatized, so they stayed put.
"Whew!" said Mario, "glad THAT's over!" He smiled and giggled, and the others seemed enlightened. Still, though, no one wanted to venture out just yet.
And there was still the bottle...
Voices
"Maybe it's okay to get going?" wonderingly asked Kayleen.
Jiz looked out the dingy window; he shrugged, saying "I guess so."
The storm had seemingly moved on, leaving in its wake extreme mugginess, dampness, and lingering fright. No one spoke. No one moved. The skies above were still somewhat dark, and lightning, though afar, brilliantly illuminated the area.
'Take off your clothes.'
Jiz stood back from the window; he had to get on the extreme musty well-worn canvas seat at a table by the window to see out. He stood still for a moment, then pulled off his deep blue t-shirt. No one spoke, no one moved. The air was so thick—you could cut it with a knife. Down came the short walking shorts. The boy had ditched his undies earlier, opting for the old commando style for the walk home.
Julianne then stood up and removed her top before sliding down her own walking shorts. She was also going "commando" as she didn't like walking in wet undies. Once more, and Kayleen's big brown eyes widened; Mario couldn't breathe. Jiz stood a little perplexed—no, a lot perplexed. A lot.
"What the fu—?" the rest of Jiz's concern was lost as a "voice" in his head not his own suggested that he "relax" and "go with the flow." That was hard to do when Julianne took hold of his nut sack. Delicately she cupped his barely hairy balls, massaged the tender nuggets, then drew her clasped fingers up his suddenly very-very hard cock.
"Oh shit!" blurted Mario.
Kayleen was unable to speak—or think. The young girl stared in utter amazement and awe as Julianne moved her fingers up and down Jiz's penis. UP and DOWN—UP and DOWN—UP and then DOWN. Then she went down to her knees...
Outside the ramshackled caboose and the huge meadow of waist-high grass wavered like waves of the sea. The air was less muggy, and the skies once more darkened. Inside the caboose, little to nothing of what was going on (or pending) mattered to James "Jiz", Mario "Oreo", Julianne "Jeebie" or Kayleen "Kayzee." On her knees, Julianne Barnwithhay slobbered on Jiz's boner with an enclosed mouth. It was her first time, and she wasn't quite sure if she liked it or not. At first, it WAS distasteful; then, as she continued sucking, it wasn't so bad.
'Never been sucked before?' the voice in his head asked.
Jiz shook his head. His cock was as hard as it had never been before.
And girls in their swimsuits were about as close to seeing a girl naked as he had come so far. He knew what "sex" was; the Missionary Position. Other forms of coupling? Not so much. He was even vague on "doggie-style" although he had seen dogs hooked up. Masturbation? He was just beginning to do so; in the shower and mostly sprawled out on his bed thinking of a couple of girls—Julianne and Kayleen, strangely, not one of them.
After much ado about "sucking," the girl stood up, backed up, and remained still for a moment (naked) while Jiz (naked) stared at her (nakedness)—specifically her bald pussy. For Julianne, wee little lads she had seen naked, no boy her age or older. There was curiosity, sure—that was natural and perfectly normal.
Thunder rolled across the sullen landscape, making the old caboose shudder some. Julianne moved to one of the long tables that let down, and the 2-inch thick canvas cushions served as a "bed." There were sparse furnishings in the caboose that also had a cupola—a place for the conductor to sit and see the train for what it was and note any problems like shifting weight, fires, hoboes.
It didn't make much difference, but Julianne (naked) turned the cushions over; they were just as musty and dirty but not as much as from the other side. Then the naked nearly eleven-year-old plopped herself on the not-so-clean cushion and laid herself out. Mario thought he would "bust a nut" as he got an eyeful seeing Julianne's raw naked nakedness. He was sitting perched on the floor with legs crossed (and cock hard) just feet from the naked girl. His mouth dropped, and the wow factor kicked in to high lofty heights.
A bald pussy. A girl's bald pussy. It was amazing. It was awe-inspiring.
Jiz stood with a raging boner, eyeing the delectable object being strongly schooled and encouraged to "do the honors" and "go down on her." Jiz had no idea what the Voice referred to. Encouragement schooled the boy in the fine art of "cunnilingus."
'Girls PEE from there!' Jiz exclaimed inside his head.
'Relax,' replied the Voice, 'she hasn't peed recently.'
True. But still—ewewewe!
But regardless of the "ewewewe" factor, naked James Jiz "went down" on naked Julianne, flicking his tongue all over. He kind of liked it. It was a new experience for him, and natural instincts being what they were, "he liked it."
Julianne wriggled as she was "licked."
Mario and Kayleen stared in utter wow; mouths agape, eyes just as wide.
Soon, though, and Jiz was jamming his penis into Julianne's smooth unfucked cunt. He made slow but deliberate moves of penetration. Julianne clenched as she was breached. Like Jiz, she had a vague idea of the concept of sex. Doggie style was elusive to her, but she DID know about Reverse Missionary!
Jiz's penis jammed its way forward, moving with some effort all the way in; there was a fair amount of blood coating his schlong as well as his balls. The pumping action began, and the fuck was on. Julianne grunted, groaned, and then began to moan. Her legs danced some sort of jig as she lay getting laid. It was sort of a twitch than anything else, but whatever.
Mario and Kayleen couldn't keep their eyes off of the scene before them. Jiz's ass, his balls, his cock disappearing—and the reappearing in and out of Julianne's cunt. It was an incredible sight, culminating to the apex whereas Jiz "jazzed". No one, not even the boys, knew what the milky cream was. Jiz had, of course, jerked off but not "off."
The experience he experienced fucking Julianne was a mind blower. The orgasm was like a drug—he wanted it more and more and more and more. And more. The cumming off was, unfortunately, short-lived and not as long-lasting as a good mind-altering drug. But the afterwards, the feeling was still swarming in his mind—like an illicit drug.
For Julianne—well, not so much. Her pussy was sore-sore-sore. The young girl didn't know quite what to think about "getting laid." Her first fuck was confusing. She wasn't ready for sex and knew little about it all around.
Jiz sat down a little perplexed. Cum still oozed out of his piss slit as well as out of Julianne's cunt. A handy musty rag was used to clean off her soiled poon, wetted down with some water from his canteen. Another rag was used to clean himself and then—
Kayleen stood up. On her pretty face, she was exhibiting great confusion.
Mario also stood.
Outside, the breeze that had been there suddenly picked up, making the caboose creak more than usual. A splattering of rain also came, and the storm that had abated was back.
The children were unawares.
Down came Mario's walking shorts; off came his shoes, underwear, shirt...
Kayleen cocked her head as she watched her friend stripping down.
"WTF!?" was permanently etched on her face.
Julianne sat up, and though she didn't exactly have the WTF face, she was stunned and curious as to what the fuck was going on just the same. Jiz was also confused but not as much. His eyes were on Kayleen's ass. Most of the girl's body was tan—all except her ass area. Julianne was much the same.
Slowly-slowly-slowly, and did Kayleen "Kayzee" Zonkmibrest strip off her own clothes—just shorts and t-shirt. A pretty girl, quite most times, reserved, bouncy blond hair in a style that changed weekly. She retained her baby cheeks and was getting "lumpy".
Like Julianne, Kayleen assessed the cock wavering before her.Then she "handled" it, stroked the average-length penis, squeezed her fingers about it, clutched it at the base, then leaned in and kissed it (the head).
Mario was about to explode.
So was Jiz.
And by the look on Julianne's face—she was too!
Kayleen's going UP and DOWN on Mario's schlong wasn't too much to her liking. She didn't like it one little bit. She retched and pulled away no matter how much the "Voice" in her head compelled her to continue. Oh well. Mario and Jiz fetched some canvas cushions, dusted them off, shook them, stirred up the dust, then laid them out on the floor. Then Kayleen laid herself out on the not-so-comfy cushions, knees up and legs apart. Julianne was embarrassed, Jiz and Mario were hard.
Positioning himself between the girl's legs, Mario "went down" on her with not so strong encouragement from his mind's host. The boy hadn't a clue as to what "go down on her" meant or referred to, but a little coaxing and he was a pro. Licking pussy was "alright" to Mario and not as gross as one would think. It mattered little that the girl "peed" from there. The boy happily giggled as he licked her pussy and then, still giggling, inserted his prong like Jiz had done to Julianne and fucked her.
After a brief interlude, the foursome sat in some bewilderment. All four were "sore" from their experience—their first experience. The boys' schlongs tingled; they had been a little disgusted at the "blood" on their dorks and nuggets, but the handy rags left over from old train crews (and some water) cleaned and freshened them up. The girls, too, were cleaned up and remained naked (for the boys' viewing).
Another round of fucking soon followed. No sucking, no licking, just fucking. But this time, it was Mario to Julianne and Jiz to Kayleen. It was quite an event. The girls were a little more into the deed but still concerned and unsure. The boys—none of that. They were into the deed and were happy about it. Mario eased his hardened prick into Julianne's snatch reeling almost instantly. And he could wipe that ridiculous grin off his face for nothing!
Jiz liked Kayleen, but he liked Julianne just a little bit more. And then there were Wanda, Erica, Lori, Michelle, and Yolanda. There, too, were some girl cousins. But Wanda, Erica, Lori, Michelle, and Yolanda held prominence in his mind. Definitely did he want to see them naked—and most definitely did he want to do to them what he was doing to Kayleen. Most definitely.
Achieving orgasm came quickly the second time around. The girls were no less sore from their involvement but were sort of getting used to it.
'How about a little ass play,' suggested the Voice.
No one knew what that meant. So, more schooling.
Ass Play 101 - pre-requisite for this course—must love ass.
Mario qualified—Julianne's ass was nice; round, perfectly shaped, and he once heard it fart! Seeing her ass naked was fantastic! Touching it, cupping the cheeks, smoothing his hand all over—was a dream come true. And speaking of cumming—
After cupping, smoothing his hand, squeezing the cheeks, Mario was about to blow his third load of spunk. His eyelids were fluttering and it was a struggle to think and/or breathe. At first the two were standing and Mario's schlong was pressed up against the naked girl. Julianne was getting a little more into the naughty business; she was giggling as much as he, blushing some, and a whole head shorter than him, too! Which made it kind of difficult for the fine strapping naked boy to molest the girl—but he managed.
Anyways, after the cupping and smoothing and so on the girl turned about and "bent over." Mario went to his knees and while Jiz and Kayleen watched in awestruck awe, Mario put his tongue to Julianne's dirt chute. Her asshole! He did!
With his eyes closed, Mario went sticking his tongue to Julianne's cornhole. Then, he licked. Just like licking the girls' pussies he licked Julianne's dirt hole. It was clean. The boy had no thoughts about the deed—he just did it. He also wanked his wanker whilst doing so which soon led to him standing and guiding his hard aching pud into the girl's virgin very virgin fresh licked asshole.
Jiz and Kayleen were stupefied.
Julianne seemed in anguish. Her "hole" was for pushing something out—not taking something in. She grunted and made a disparaging face. Mario pulled out, slapped her ass with his soiled dick, then plunged back in with some effort. Julianne's hands gripped tightly her knees. Jiz gripped tightly his dick. Kayleen gripped tightly her mind...
He didn't cum—but close counts. His body trembled, toes curled, and there was the "feeling" of a sensational orgasmic blast into Julianne's turd chute, but no cream—no evidence of a blast. Nevertheless, it was a good fuck—a good first butt fuck. Julianne did quite feel the same—all over. Now her asshole ached and was just as sore as her pussy!
On her back and Kayleen lay with her legs pulled back. Jiz admired her bald pussy that actually had a few tiny hairs coming in. The Up Close and Too Personal viewing of her pussy was beyond belief. And then there was her asshole right there, too! Awesome! He never imagined he would see a girl in such a way.
Grinning bigger than Mario, Jiz put his mouth and yea his tongue to Kayleen's pooper. He licked, lapped, and seemingly tried to force his dancing tongue into her crapper. It was a no-go but nothing like trying. After thoroughly licking the timid girl's cute chute the boy applied his prong. Bits of sperm already coated the piss slit area making it a little easier to penetrate the virgin highway.
Mario and Julianne were all attentive.
Outside the caboose the rain had come again with angrier dark black clouds.
No thunder, no lighting, but lots of rain.
Jiz's jizbone slid into Kayleen's crapper; both grunted at the experience but deed was a done deal leaving Kayleen's chute steaming. This after Jiz thoroughly sodomized the girl pumping vigorously after initially making full anal entry. He was as gentle as he could be but after a few "gentle" pumps IN and OUT the dog instinct to "just fuck and get it over with" kicked and he did just that.
Gobs of his cum oozed out of the girl's hole. She was crying some and found the event of having her asshole ravaged not to her liking. She liked less the next event.
None of the four could explain it—but Jiz was sure for some certainty that "we weren't alone." And long after with deep reflection he assumed that they had probably all been under the influence of an EMAD. He was sure that it was possible he and Julianne would "hook up." But not at that time, or age. Maybe later on, in junior high, high school for sure. Julianne may had submitted to giving him head—but not at that time. Up the ass? Definitely not.
And Kayleen was pretty much the same.
Mario? Hmmm a quirky dude, he had sexual fantasies but they were not as important as discovering bugs, rocks, or lost coins. The Whistle Stop children remained friends, but there were lingering concerns for their caboose experience. They continued to explore the meadow and Big Blue, the Whistle Stop depot, but stayed clear of Little Red.
After the butt doinking and Kayleen closing herself up like in a fetal position, Jiz watched as Julianne positioned herself on the writing desk nearby. He wasn't sure but on reflection there seemed to be a "shadowy" figure there. With the storm re-raging outside and the dim light inside the young boy's mind just wasn't sure. Anyway, Julianne began to grunt. She gripped the dusty table and it looked like she was once more being sodomized!
Then there were the telltale sounds of "slapping". No, not slapping—spanking! Julianne began to cry and her "movements" certainly were constrained to the motions of someone getting boinked from behind.
Next thing he knew and there was Kayleen on the table, legs up (but not pulled back) and SHE was seemingly getting fucked! Neither Jiz or Mario could move—they seemed frozen in place. With fear or something else—it couldn't be rightly determined.
Kayleen grunted and wept as the "shadowy" figure humped her—pussy and asshole. Several minutes were spent in each hole. There was more spanking sounds, grunting, weeping, and then finally it seemed to be over.
Seemed.
The girls huddled together by the pot-bellied stove; outside and the rain was in torrents with wind whipping the landscape. Thunder rolled in the distance with some flashes of lightning. Pressed onto the off-white dingy musty table and Mario the Oreo cookie eater grunted. But before he was "grunting" there was Jiz on his knees at his friend's very tan ass.
'Kiss it,' the Voice said in his mind.
Jiz couldn't breathe. The concept of "kiss" swam in a current of torrential upheaval. "Kiss it?" he queried to the unknown occupant in his head.
'Like with Kayleen, LICK his hole.'
Jiz would have preferred to simply have "kissed" the hole.
Licking was a whole new perspective—and gross.
But a power unknown to him compelled him and he "licked" his friend's poop chute. He licked with reverence and disdain. No thoughts of his were his own. 'You like licking his hole.' 'You like sucking his dick.' 'You like standing naked with him.'
Jiz didn't consider himself "gay" but from time to time he and Mario would "get naked" and engage immorally. They would take a shower together, pee on each other, suck dick and do rim jobs before entering into sodomy. Most times they engaged in sexual antics while exploring the outdoors—far-far away from possible prying eyes. And usually without the girls tagging along.
And speaking of the girls—no, nothing with them after the "caboose" incident. What happened in the caboose "remained" in the caboose.The only one who was "in the know" was Jiz.
After much ado about licking his friend's funky hole (the boy had recently ripped a couple of Silent But Deadlys, so the area therein was "funky"), Jiz stood and buggered his friend. A slow, steady progress made dutiful entry, and the dirty deep was done—deep! A two-minute butt fuck, and Jiz masterfully mastered the art that was sodomy. He streamed an ungodly amount of sperm, causing him to reel all over. His toes clenched as his bone inside his friend's ass stretched to the max. Though the orgasm was momentary, the after-effects were long-lasting.
After a few minutes' "rest," it was Jiz's turn—or Mario's turn, depending on how you look at it. Mario's hole was steaming, and he was in great disbelief that he had been so boned. But he accepted it (and future bonings), and after Jiz laid himself out on the table, he applied his own tongue to Jiz's hole. And since Jiz was laying on his back, holding his legs back, Mario partook of sucking on his friend's musty ball sac!
Then, it was "up the ass."
Jiz groaned, his back arched, and he made a lot of screwed-up faces.
Mario buried his bone, grinning and giggling all the way.
As stated, the boys went on to have sexual encounters with each other; the girls went on to have sexual encounters—with older boys. Much older boys—high school boys, and for Julianne, during a Halloween party where everyone was in costume, she got boned by The Headless Pumpkin (Horseman, but there was a flaming pumpkin in place of a "head").
Moose sighting; the next day
I was at Camden Stables Market (on Chalk Farm Road, Camden Town) when I chanced to meet an old friend who said, "What are you doing here!?" To which I replied, "Oh, you know, hunting elephants." He gave me the longest stare.
Spying 101-1A pre-requisite: being nosey
Prior to the storm, "Moose" Turdpie had slinked his way to a backwoods campground. The individual camps were far apart from one another and shielded by huge boulders, trees, and bushes. There were no "facilities," but there was a nearby creek supplying water to the faucets.
Moose knew, though the weather was warm and still, lifeless and sullen, it was soon to get stirred up, and being out in the open was probably not a good idea.
While snooping in the rough, he came upon Campground 5. Here, a man with his young daughter were experiencing the great outdoors—such as they were. It was hot out; hot and sticky. There was no tent, but an ice chest on the picnic table. No fishing poles, either, but the daddy figure was "fishing" just the same.
The girl was a cutie and about ten years young or so. Long, straight blond hair, a bit of body form—mostly her ass (of which Mario and Jiz would be proud to gaze upon), and then that face. Karen, the subject here, had an Angel's face. It was adorable, bright, kissed lightly by the sun, and was just perfect for resting one's cock on. Oh!
The girl's father, Patrick, stood just under six feet tall, slim build, and a non-angelic face. Patrick's face was more stern and not all that friendly appearing. Graying at the temples, he was hovering in his early 40s and seemed to be in some sort of "construction" career, as so noted on the placard on his truck parked nearby.
The two embraced and were "dancing" to the music in their minds.
It was a peaceful setting and a wondrous scene of a father and daughter spending some quality time together. Moose was about to move on, not spoiling the precious moment and wanting to avoid the oncoming storm, when suddenly Karen worked out of her father's tight off-blue jeans his cock! She did! Moose held fast in the tall grass surrounding Campground 5, watching as the pretty ten-year-old masterfully mastered the male member in her hand.
Still, while masterfully masturbating her father, the two clung to one another and "danced." How odd! Karen continued to manipulate her father's schlong; she was all giggles, blushing all the while. Patrick was enthused but cautious; he looked around nervously, then made way to the pick-up truck—with Karen continuing to fondle the cock in her hand all the way.
Once inside the truck, the engine was fired up, and the air conditioner turned on HIGH. Then the "playing" resumed. Using stealth and extreme sneakiness, Moose got to see the play. Firstly, little Karen went down on her daddy's cock. Unlike Julianne and Kayleen, Karen made no faces as she slobbered on the daddy dong. She slurped and bobbed, her pretty blond head up and down, servicing her daddy and sending him into extreme gratification.
More gratification came as Patrick laid down in the full-length bench seat, working his daughter onto him. A little fumbling, and the man worked his tight jeans and underwear down to his knees and then, after honking the horn on the steering wheel, to his ankles. Karen giggled the entire time. She even giggled when her dear daddy undid her short knee-length britches and pulled them off. There were pinkish panties to greet him, and there he did place his nose, wiggling it into her crotch—specifically her pussy.
Clutching her ass, he held her firmly as he noshed; then he engulfed the whole of her pussy area, essentially eating her out through her panties. Meanwhile, the girl continued to masturbate her daddy's dick, getting it to cum. The sperm blast splashed onto her face, but did nothing to settle or quash her daddy's sexual lust. Tugging at the crotch of her undies, he pulled them down some. His big, beefy hands tightly held the girl's young fanny. His cock pulsed and exploded more spunk. Karen rubbed the average-sized schlong on her face, seemingly neverminding the spunk flavor.
With the panties off, Daddy Pat wholeheartedly licked pussy. Squeezing the cheeks of his precious child, he pried them open and also greedily licked Karen's cornhole. Unlike the Whistle Stop children, he liked it, and Karen didn't mind.
Soon, and the girl was switched around; her panties were used to wipe the drying spunk off her face. Then the two kissed. Deeply and passionately. Patrick caressed his now naked daughter and moved her into prime position, whereas his throbbing, hard, ready-to-fire cock was grinding nicely against her "wet" cunt. Karen raised herself up "just so," reached down between their bodies, and guided that ready-to-fire cock into her sex—where it was no stranger and had been there a couple times before.
And so it was once again, too!
Patrick's eyes rolled as his daughter settled down onto his staff. He ahhed as he sunk himself into her sex. Karen blushed, and her angelic face was all aglow. Her young nipples were stiff, and the pumping action began. Both father and daughter pumped; this, of course, caused Patrick's cock to slip out. No matter, he spanked it against Karen's ass, poked her hole, then returned to her sex for a finishing proper fuck. Illicit though it was.
I cum, therefore, I am
Campground 8 was way-way back from the others but closer to the creek.
Rain was imminent, and some concern there was from the inhabitants therein.
Laid out on a picnic with her panties dangling off an ankle was a dark-haired girl with her yellow top pushed up to expose her barely eleven-year-old titties. Her jeans lay off on the table's bench seat. An old camping truck was parked off to one side with some fishing poles leaned against. The door was open, and someone was within.
Back to the table.
An old man in his late 60s was between the open, naked legs of the girl ON the table. He wore an old fisherman's hat cocked to one side; he wore a light blue shirt and sported a few "naval" tattoos on his arms. His pants and undies were at his ankles, and his aged cock was buried to the hilt into his granddaughter's sex.
The young girl, Trela, lay clutching the sides of the table whilst her grandfather, Noel, pumped her sex. She seemed disenfranchised about the ordeal and looked one way and then the other. At one point, she locked eyes with the spying spy in the brush, but it was unclear if she actually saw him (Moose) or not.
After Noel got his nut, he pulled out, and more nut juice spewed from his cock. Long, ropey strands of spunk there were from Trela's cunt to the old man's dick. He flopped his dick against the girl's cunt, glided the head up and down the entrance, then spanked the cum-soaked pussy before turning the girl over.
The first sounds of frightening thunder came; the air began muggy and very unpleasant. Noel paid it no mind and, on his knees, he put his face to the girl's bare bum; parting the cheeks, he licked her hole and stuffed it with his finger. Then stuffed it with his cock.
Trela grunted and had a face of displeasure.
At the open door of the camper stood a naked black boy also about eleven years young. Cum was dripping from his penis, and he was grinning like no one else could grin as he watched Noel fuck Trela. Suddenly appearing at the boy's side was a pretty naked five-year-old girl. Oh!
Noel put it to his granddaughter; spanked her hips/ass and drove every inch of his six-incher into her backdoor. He gave his all for three minutes before unleashing a hellacious torrent of spew. When he pulled out, he spewed even more, thoroughly coating the girl's hinny.
Winded, the old man stepped back and nearly stumbled. Pulling up his pants before he did stumble, he retrieved a handkerchief and mopped his brow. Then, just holding his pants up, he retreated into the camper. Trela stood up from the table, pulling her panties up. She then collected her pants and watched with a stoic face as her friend, Eric, exited the camper and fetched a soda from the ice chest by the table. Little naked Leah almost fell out of the camper but managed to catch herself. Eric handed her a soda and offered one to Trela, too.
Nothing was said. What the old man was doing inside the camper was anyone's guess. The first crack of thunder jolted the kids, sending Leah back into the camper.The second thunder crack followed by a brilliant explosion of lightning sent the other two. The door was shut, and that was that.
The pending oncoming onslaught of a storm sent the wandering Moose to a nearby train known to the old locals as Little Red. As the rains came, he was joined by Jiz, Mario, Kayleen, and Julianne.
Like other MCs (main characters), Moose Turdpie was equipped with an EMAD. It was loaded with features—most of which were unknown to the User as well as yet to be discovered. What had been discovered was well worth the investment—murder!
There were plenty of places to utilize the nifty gadget: the mall, park, plaza, sporting arena, school, church. Any place where large crowds gathered—although there was security seen and "unseen" with a high-tech mind-altering gizmo, those issues were irrelevant. Caution was still necessary, sure; but there was some security in the Device, and that made it all the better.
The thing with crowds, though, too many minds. Too many people and their minds got in the way of the Target. Moose's gizmo, like many others like it, operated on fine, minute shielded frequencies. Usually, on the onset, only ONE mind was subjected to the machine's wiles. Thereafter, other minds could be brought in.
Crowds, though, annoyed Moose. They made him nervous, and he preferred not to be among the masses. Small crowds were better, less than fifty or so optimal, with less than twenty preferred. Schools, theaters, amphitheaters, all had possible Subjects. Moose, however, found "churches" had the better clientele. The Targets therein were "prettier." Maybe not all that innocent per se, but very pretty, and that was what mattered to Moose Turdpie.
Finding a church that fulfilled his qualifications, Moose settled in. The first few visits were to "get acquainted" with the folk attending (as well as pick out his Subjects.) And there were quite a few "subjects." Teen girls, young girls, young-young girls, and even some young adults.
After a "few" visits, he got acquainted with a one Shane Dickworth. Shane was tall, well-groomed, soft-spoken, and pussy-whipped. He was a nice guy, had a few children, a strong Christian, worked for his wife's father at an agricultural warehouse. Moose found some sort of kismet with Shane and felt safe enough for one service visit to increase their friendship.
Prior visits, and Moose had only greeted the man and got to know him superficially. No "prying" into his mind or any of that. Moose was taking his time—it was an overload waiting to happen. Soooo many choices! The teen girls were really something, and he ached terribly for each one.
With Shane, in the enclosed glass-walled foyer where there were a meet/greet desk and counter with propaganda—er, literature, Moose lingered waiting for Shane to appear. The Church by the Woods was one where there were multiple services to serve multiple peoples. An early morning service, then a break, Sunday school for children, teens, and adults alike, then the just-before-noon service. A musical interlude was just before each service.
Shane appeared wearing a casual non-business suit. He gave Moose a smile and came to greet him. Moose held in his arms a precious little five-year-old who was wiggly. It was that wiggling that gave Shane insight that the little blond-haired girl with dazzling blue eyes had no panties on!
Lindsy had very-very blond hair; it was straight, covered her ears, and hung just above her shoulders. She was a true cutie. She wore good Church clothes with a short-short skirt. Shane's eyes were startled when he got a glimpse of the girl's lack of undies.
'Did you like what you saw?'
Shane was stunned somewhat. He had a mess of girls of his own, no boys. The oldest was thirteen years young, the youngest was Lindsy's age—five years. After regaining some composure, licking of lips, and thinking thoughtfully,
"Uh." he wasn't sure.
Naturally, having girls, he had seen them naked, in their undies, naked. He had given them baths, wiped them, cleaned them, dressed them.
Moose, standing way off from the main traffic flow, shuffled squirmy Lindsy once more, giving Shane a free shot. Peoples were not paying attention and filing into the main area of the church, but they were still a concern for Moose.
Shane's cold, steely eyes did more than a mere glance at Lindsy's goodie box—he stared!
'You like?'
The definitive answer here—YES! And a resounding YES! Seldom did he get to "stare" at a girl's goodie—his girls' goodie. And yes, he wanted to. But staring was frowned upon by modern-day society—especially for a Christian.
Moving to a corner by a tall potted fern and turning just so—so as no one else could have a glance at Lindsy's goodie, Moose angled the wiggling Lindsy whereas Shane sure enough got a good damn good looksee.
The man was in serious ache mode. A want that anchored him all over.
Moose held little Lindsy's legs open wide for Shane to have all the looksee he could stand.
'Would you like to touch?' That answer was obvious.
'Would you like to put your dick against her?'
There's blank stares and then there's "OMF what did you say?" blank stares.
Shane exhibited such a stare. It was a mix of confusion and "Oh, yeah?" paving the way to "Alright, yes, I would." The man began to sweat, although the glass structure was shaded and air-conditioned. All activity was to the off-set main doors, and just a trickling of people. Music from within the worship center could be heard firing up. Twenty minutes later, and the Announcements would be read, taking another twenty minutes, and then the sermon would be presented.
Two other girls were with Moose, twelve-year-old Brianna and eleven-year-old Christine. Brianna wore a long denim dress; long brown hair, beautiful blue eyes, a sweet-sweet smile, and smelled wondrously of oranges. Christina had a pretty powder blue dress on just to her knees and smelled of roses.
Moose slyly raised up Christine's dress, revealing no undies there, either.
Shane was about to collapse.
"Maybe we could continue this—in your office?"
Shane had an office at the church; he was an official doing private work for the church, a paid position. Shane nodded and almost blindedly made his way out of the enclosed foyer and to his office off to one side.
Moose and his girls followed.
The office was facing the "B" parking lot; the church was sandwiched between the parking spots along two sides of the building, then an "A" lot and two other lots for lots of parking for the usual crowd of 500 people per service. There were trees, a bit o' lawn, and privacy. The offices on the one side were for that, offices for the business of conducting church (official) business. There were other offices for conducting counseling sessions for young marrieds and intent to be married, disciplinary actions, private school issues, and so on.
In Shane's office (and the door shut and locked), Moose quickly removed Lindsy's shortie kiddie dress, and there she was—naked. The girl was placed on a waist-high counter and laid back, legs back, goodie box fully exposed for Shane's perusal.
The man was all eyes. Mouth open, eyes wide, cock hard.
Moose then increased Shane's hardness by once more raising Christine's dress. No panties were there. Shane was melting. The dress was lifted, completely removed, and she was naked. A nice-nice body there was to greet Shane; he gouged the heel of his hand to his manhood that was in dire agony.
Nodding to Brianna, Moose smiled and locked eyes with the young pre-teen girl. She slowly pulled up her denim dress and was also equally naked. Shane let out a moan.
Another head nod, and Brianna was on her knees before the befuddled Christian.
'Take your dick out.'
Shane blinked his eyes and stared in deep thought before unleashing his mighty pud. It was of normal size but thick and extremely hard. Brianna took her fingers to the man's hardness and began masturbating it. Such sacrilege! Shane watched her in utter awe. Then she kissed the head of his manhood, followed by engulfing the head, rolling her tongue about the super-sensitive man part, came nextly bringing the man to nearly cumming off right then and there.
Meanwhile, Moose had dropped his clothes, and pretty blond-haired Christine was servicing him all the while he fingered Lindsy's bald pussy. Shane didn't know how much more he could take—it was too much. Brianna, though, soothed him and took his cock mostly into her mouth, sucking him dry. His balls surged, and though a time or two he thought of pulling out and stopping the sacrilegious experience—but then the surge came, and there was no stopping that.
Although his wife would surely be looking for him, Shane fucked Brianna's mouth, creaming therein, washing away whatever pissed-offedness his wife would give him later. Brianna gagged and choked some but otherwise accepted the man goo with a smile. Shane fucked her face—partly on his own as he always wanted to do a girl that way, partly with Brianna's help, and—of course—partly influenced by Moose and his marvelous, wondrous mind-altering machine!
And though lo (and yea) Brianna was doing a fine job of sucking and very muchly pleasing his cock—Shane's eyes came to rest on Lindsy's young pussy Moose was ardently fingering. This caused Shane's cock to explode. There was so much cum that it trickled out the corners of Brianna's mouth. She giggled, blushed, and retched a little but seemed to enjoy the cock blast. Shane humped her sweet face; she was a cowgirl of sorts, enjoyed horses (not so much the cows) and wore adornments depicting cowgirls, horses, horseshoes, and the like.
Shane's attention was all on Lindsy; his cock thoroughly fucked Brianna's sweet-sweet face.A slight head-nod from Moose, and Shane ambled over, his eyes never leaving Lindsy's crotch. Being that the child was just about waist-high made it easy for tall Shane to lay his cock against her innocence and "have a go." The man's saucy dong glided all over jutting bits of cum as it did so. The man was a serious pervert.
Brianna and Christine were available to molest at leisure, but he chose to be devilish with the youngest girl in the room. And after much gliding about, he poked.
"If you could," whispered Moose into the man's mind, "would you FUCK this little girl?"
There was a brief pause, then a head nod indicating YES. There was the "go ahead," but Shane didn't fully proceed. He DID move to penetrate but didn't fully insert—the head of his cummy prick actively made the go-ahead, but not shaft penetration. Shane masturbated, and Moose went into Brianna from behind.
Morality? Never heard of it.
Thirteen-year-old Rachel was a pretty girl, like her father—Shane, she was going to be tall. Going to be? She was already several inches taller than most girls in her age group. Very slender, she preferred soccer to basketball, jazz over rock, pop, and country, and was just a little naughty with her daddy.
The other girls were "normal" in the respect that they were NOT naughty with their daddy. (But he was with them on the sly.) His unnatural desires kept him on edge—fear of getting caught or going too far.
With Moose Turdpie entwined in his life, though, Shane was more free to roam about the dysfunctionality of family destruction. With daughter Rachel, there was little in the way of "naughtiness." She was playing with his dick, masturbating him. They took showers together, they smoked a joint together, he fingered her pussy and played with her breasts. And as a finale, she would occasionally KISS the head of his dick. Nothing else followed. No anal, no oral, and certainly no vaginal. And Shane didn't try; he read his daughter and was frightened enough with what he was able to get away with. She was willing, and she knew the score about keeping what they did to herself. In doing so, she was guaranteed a generous allowance and other perks.
Blackmail! Such an ugly word—Rachel preferred the term "opportunist."
But Shane longed to plug his way up his daughter's cornhole. He wanted to spank her. He wanted to cum in her mouth, against her face, between her lovely-simply-fucking lovely breasts, and "shower" her with his piss! His piss! But most of all, of course, he wanted to sink his daddy dick DEEP into her daughterly pussy and "fuck her brains out."
With Moose Turdpie—all things were possible.
Then there was ten-year-old Morgan, seven-year-old Leela, and—AND the five-year-old, Monica! Pretty much the same with them as with Rachel; spanking, peeing, humping here, cumming there. The man had no morals. The man wouldn't KILL anyone, steal, assault, or lie. But he would bang his way with his family.
And covet his neighbor's wife—Justine. He really-really-really wanted to fuck that woman into next year.
First! Rachael.
Rachael Annette loved the outdoors; she loved playing sports, swimming, climbing trees, building treehouses, and socializing with her peers. Shane wanted to fuck the brains out of those "peers," too. All of his daughter's girlfriends were fuckable; even the one who wore glasses, the one with braces, the one with no breasts, and the one who was "a little fat."
But first! Although Shane's job at his father-in-law's warehouse paid well, his wife, Kim, also worked and was seldom home during the day. This paved the way for Shane to be home with his girls—having a high position at the workplace allowed Shane "perks," like taking off work early on some ruse that it was "work" related.
Many times—many-many times—and the younger girls were at some friend of theirs for the day, allowing Shane other perks to enjoy. Like his daughter, Rachael, for example.
Long, straight blond hair, strawberry blond. Long, straight arms and legs, a firm fanny, firm body all over with delectable breasts. The girl had a wondrous smile, a cute giggle, and an "interesting" voice. Most girls were high-pitched in tone, especially young teens. Not Rachael. She was more lower in pitch with an odd accent thrown in. Neither Shane nor his wife had an "accent" or hailed from anywhere where there was a distinctive "accent." Oh well. She was pretty (and willingly naughty), so that was all that mattered.
Smoked pot with her dad? Playing around nakedly with her dear daddy was one thing, but smoking pot? What a Christian, eh?
On Moose's visit to Shane's two-story home with pool, not two but THREE-car garage, game room with pool table in the basement, gourmet barbeque on the patio, no one home but Shane and Rachael. Shane was anxious. And stoned. He and his firstborn had been smoking a blunt in the game room but were still clothed. Earlier that day, though, the happy-go-lucky girl who could sing well alone and without music (despite her low voice) happily jerked off her daddy and let him finger her pussy.
Rachael greeted Moose with a hug; she was charming, very pretty clad in typical teen wear of a t-shirt, short jeans, and sandals. Her hair smelled of oranges, her face beamed with a "sunny" radiance, and her incredible blue eyes told the tale of smoking a joint.
Once more into the basement; after a quick tour of the bottom floor of the house, a glance outside to the pool and barbeque area. At any time, a family member was apt to wander home and possibly spoil something in progress. There was security, however—when any entry door of the house was opened, a "chime" would sound, alerting the inhabitants.
'Take your clothes off,' Moose minded (electronically) to Rachael.
The girl complied, and Shane sighed. He loved thoroughly watching his children undress. It was a cheap thrill, but he enjoyed it, and he never tired of it.
Once naked, and the two men stripped off their clothing—each had a prominent boner for Rachael to enjoy. Her first joy was handling the penises wavering in her face. The second was more for the men than the girl—sucking. Kissing and rolling her tongue about the super-sensitive head. Then down. Down-down-down and then back up. She was not an avid cocksucker and, in fact, had never slurped a schlong. The girl was naughty ONLY with her daddy!
After sucking her daddy and Moose, the girl laid out on the fold-down sofa, legs wide open for the men to ogle her. And ogle her they did—before laying beside her. Shane fingered her pussy while Moose enjoyed her delicious teenage breasts. Moose recalled fondly how the man lusted heavily that day in his office, having sex with the five-year-old Lindsy.
After fingering Rachael's pussy, bringing the girl to the height of sexual want—meaning she wanted fucked and fucked hard, Shane did just that. His cock was raging hard, and barring some ax-wielding, hockey mask-wearing, blood-stained seven-foot monster barging in on them—it was a done deal. There was no stopping the progress of incest—save for if the wife should suddenly appear.
She didn't, so incest it was!
Moose enjoyed the show; after Shane had his daughter's pussy thoroughly soaked with her own pussy juice and then mounted her, easing his adequate hard cock into her, Moose moved back to the floor directly behind the two incestuous lovers to watch the progress. Shane made ease into his daughter's cunt. She was a virgin, as evidenced by his cock and balls. Moose wasn't "gay" per se, he just liked to see sex in action, and a nice hard, throbbing man cock was just the thing. He powerfully stroked his own as he watched the man he had known just a month or so fuck.
Slow but powerful thrusts were made; Rachael bucked up but mostly laid firm, accepting the sexual relationship. Moose was overjoyed watching the fucking; he smiled the entire time and squeezed his cock harder and harder. The smell of "sex" permeated the sullen air, mixing with the stench of marijuana from earlier.
Finally, the finale. Three minutes and some seconds later, and Shane unleashed a flood of his love, cementing his illicit relationship with his daughter. The thrusting continued; the grunting and groaning also. Rivers of cum flowed from the girl's pussy. Shane heaved, and all his energy was fully expelled. He did manage to roll off his heaving daughter, opening the way for Moose.
Sloppy seconds anyone?
It wasn't "sloppy"; she was just broken-in. A little clean-up, and Moose did so take the girl, fucking her on her back firstly, but mid-way through the event, rolled to have the girl "on top." Gripping her ass, he powerfully engaged sexually with the girl, schooling her on how to fuck Reverse Missionary style; to lay down fully prone, to sit up, and to do the Around-the-World.
A quick shower in the basement/game room full bathroom, and Moose further schooled Rachael in the dastardly art that was sodomy. Butt-banging 101—this after her daddy licked her asshole. He had never tongue and bung before; or sucked cock, played with another man's balls, or had any kind of sexual relationship with a man.
A boy, yes, a man, no.
As a young man, pre-teen, Shane and his best friend Milton, sucked one another—in the backyard using a refrigerator cardboard box, the two pulled their pants and underwear down, and then while one stuck his head out the "porthole" topside, the other would suck his dick! The boys were ten at the time.
Sodomizing his teenage daughter just sealed the fate—er, deal for Shane. A little anal lube, and the butt plunging was a done thing. His cock was so hard it could launch a ship! Cumming off in his daughter's pussy was one thing, but her butthole? Priceless. Of course, creaming in her mouth and ON it were pretty spectacular episodes, too.
Of course, the one BEING butt-plunged didn't overly derive as much pleasure as the one doing the plunging.But Rachael submitted to the ass play—all the while she gobbled down on Moose's cock. Shane fully concentrated on his butt fucking, pulling out to smack/spank his daughter's lovely, simply lovely to fuck ass, then delve back in for a horrendous finish.
No spanking or peeing, but that would come later.
Shane was exhausted. Moose tinkered with Rachael's mind, enabling her to accept her new way of life with her daddy. Giving him a blowjob most every day was one way; spreading her legs (and ass) was another. A "now and then" spank fest, a showering and pee fest was thrown in for good measure of immorality.
Well, that was one daughter down—three more to go!
Conversations with a cow
While driving along a country road, two city ladies came across some cows grazing in a pasture.
"What a cute bunch of cows!" remarked one of the ladies.
"Not a bunch, a herd," her friend replied.
"Herd of what?"
"Herd of cows."
"Of course I've heard of cows."
"No, a cow herd."
"What do I care what a cow heard? I have no secrets to keep from a cow!"
*
Explained Capitalism: You have two cows. You sell three of them to your publicly-listed company, using letters of credit opened by your brother-in-law at the bank, then execute a debt/equity swap with associated general offer so that you get all four cows back, with a tax deduction for keeping five cows. The milk rights of six cows are transferred via a Panamanian intermediary to a Cayman Islands company secretly owned by the majority shareholder, who sells the right to all seven cows' milk back to the listed company. The annual report says that the company owns eight cows, with an option on one more. Meanwhile, you kill two cows to keep the flies down.
*
"Who closes the door after the bus driver gets off?"
"What?"
"Just asking." Moo
While contemplating the mysteries that were life, Moose motored through the countryside, pausing midway along to relieve himself. Whilst doing so, he noted the bobbing black and white head of a spotted cow grazing in the meadow nearby.
"Moo, cow, moo."
"Moooo," replied the cow.
"HERD any good jokes lately?" Moose chuckled.
The bovine chewed thoughtfully, then shook her big cow head.
"Moooo," she replied.
"I think I ate your sister."
The Jersey stopped chewing, bowed her head, and bumped the fence. Moose chortled and backed wisely up.
Almost tripping and falling into the ditch—which would have possibly gotten a chortle from the cow, Moose noted a modern-day sedan roll past that obviously had some motor problems. The day was wearing on, and Moose had no ardent plans. After relieving himself into the ditch that had cow piss in it already, he leaned against his own ride, a 1959 Cadillac, red convertible. Big, long, politically incorrect, loved to slurp gasoline. Moose didn't care; it was a great car, a fantastic car full of American ingenuity if not integrity.
He mused a moment, contemplated his options: continue conversing with the Jersey cow, or motor down the back country two-lane road and see what-what. Decisions-decisions. There was something about that car, though; more than the motor making odd sounds.
In the air, mixed with the scent of cow shit, there was honeysuckle, wild roses, stink weed, and lavender. The car in question was just about out of sight; then he saw the brake lights come on. Hmm. As far as he knew, there were no stop signs on the country lane; no turn-offs, no homes. So, the occupants were stopping to take a piss, fuck, take in the country scene around them, or they had car trouble.
Moose assumed the latter.
"See ya 'round, cow," Moose said with a wave and a One-Finger-Salute.
"Moooo!" mooed the cow, 'go fuck yourself!'
Highway escapades
It was one of those imported cars from a foreign non-English speaking land; parked just off the road on the gravelly part (precariously parked next to the ditch); hood up, flashers on, and the mixed in with the stink weed, wild weed, roses, honeysuckle, and lavender—the heavy stench of burnt oil.
Three teens stood looking at the disabled engine. Day was fading, the air was still quite warm; wild oranges scented the air along with cow droppings but did little to quell the stink of burnt oil.
The teens, two girls and a boy, were a little nervous as Moose sauntered up to them—they were on alert and fumbling, trying to get a signal on their cell phones.
"No cell towers out here," Moose said. None of the teens' cell phones had contact with roving in-orbit satellites, so they had to rely on old-fashioned cell phone towers. Which in the back country, there were none.
"What seems to be the problem?" Moose asked, other than no cell service.
"It started rattling," said the oldest teen, Morgan, "and then it started to make bad noises and smell."
"Head gasket," Moose surmised.
"Is that bad?" asked the same girl.
Moose nodded. He had a friendly enough face, a quirky smile, and nice kind eyes—the ones that said "Hey, trust me, I'm not a psychopathic killer or a zombie out to eat your brains." 'I'm something far worse…'
Taking a gander at the disabled engine, moving hoses around and acting like he knew what he was doing—and he didn't really—he surmised that his early supposition was correct.
"Were there lights on the dash?" he asked.
Morgan nodded, "the check engine light was flashing, red."
Not a good sign.
The boy, Zach, looked more nervous than his younger sister, Erica.
Both girls could pass as twins; Morgan was seventeen, Erica was thirteen, but they had the same facial features and mannerisms. Morgan's dark brown hair that hung to her waist had her forehead/bang hair swept to the right. Erica, whose hair was just to her shoulders, had her hair sweeping to the left. Other than that, despite their ages—twins.
"What'll we do now?" almost pleaded Erica. "There's no cell service."
"I'll give you a ride to town," Moose said friendly enough, "Burnt Rock is just up ahead."
"Yeah, we know," said Zach, trying to be assertive and place his position as the "man" of the family, "we were going there—."
"To Rock Creek church," butted in Erica,
"We're singing there this Sunday," butted in Morgan.
"We're the Wayhigh Highway band." Consisting of three.
Moose stepped aside; light was fading fast. He motioned for the gang (band) to mosey to his car.
"Dang," said Erica, "nice car!"
Moose smiled. It WAS a nice car. And she had a NICE ass!
Burnt Rock
Burnt Rock was one of those places that was spread out a might. Lots of countryside; farms, ranches, off-to-themselves-trailer parks, and the like. There was a central hub having a few stores of this and that; a post office, intermediate school, and sheriff's department.
Couple of churches, too.
Rock Creek church was through town, sitting perched at the edge of town.
Moose driving his '59 Caddy didn't go through town, or even around it. Saturday night and the town, though usually closed up and virtually ghost town-like, was having its Summer Revival—several outlying area churches were coming together to bring religion to the heathens and backsliders. There was also a Summer party (for those backsliders and heathens) and a small rodeo at the farm of Laketimber.
Just before coming to the town's namesake—a huge granite boulder that took on the flames of a massive wildfire and miraculously held back those flames from incinerating the town, Moose took a turn to a dirt road leading into the trees. His companions were not concerned—their minds already zapped, their pants already down.
'Virgin?' Despite being from a strong Christian family, a straight "A" student, honor student, singer of Christian songs—no, eighteen-year-old Morgan Jane Wayhigh was not a virgin. In fact, she was just thirteen when she first got her cherry busted. She was still an anal virgin, though.
Pink panties, pink bra. The very slender seventeen-year-old was very pretty, her hair was gorgeous! Her smile, her general persona was just awesome! And the fact that she had sex with a high school boy when she was just a beginning teenager—well, that just topped it all!
At the End of the Road dirt road—nothing. The road emptied into a great open meadow. Day was just about done, but there was still light enough for Moose to enact his skill—his skill of deviltry! After probing Morgan's mind, finding her liking of dick at an early age, and that she smoked pot "now and then", Moose turned her in the seat she occupied (front seat/passenger side) facing her siblings in the backseat.
Then, a light swat to her panty-clad ass. Her pants were removed from her ankles and legs spread open a bit. Moose took his time, feeling no hurry in his dastardly deeds. Off came the girl's top and then that matching pink bra. Moose noted that the boy, Zach, and the sibling beside him, Erica, were making faces. They were "aware"!
Hmmm.
Not too worry—much. They were unable to move to intervene; they were in some limited shock (just unable to act on it.)
Moose moved directly behind Morgan and fondled-fondled-fondled her very lovely seventeen-year-old titties. This only made Zach experience great anguish. Great confusion there was, too; angst. The boy was horrified to some extent at the treatment his sister was receiving. There, too, though, was the joy of seeing her bare titties. The boy had yearnings. Unnatural though lo they be, he had a strong-strong yearning to be naughty with her.
But that wasn't the Christian thing to do.
Erica was in fits; no crying or anything like that, but upset that she couldn't help her sister and fretted that she was going to be next. Moose smiled to her and though he could re-zap the girl's mind to soothe her, he chose not to. Morgan herself was "aware"; she was frightened, confused, and just a little pissed off. She tried wiggling out of the mind constraints but found that task tasking.
Moose slipped his hands down inside the girl's panties; he was sure she could feel his heart beating against her backside.Most assuredly, she could feel his cock against her! A cop feel of her ass, then he worked around to her muffin. This act really got the girl going. Brother and sister in the backseat were squirming and trying to scream obscenities, but the mind zapper had them in a good hold.
A good couple of minutes of fingering Morgan's cunt; she resisted getting "wet," but the juices were at the ready regardless. Moose had talented fingers! Morgan moaned and managed to blurt "NO!" and "DON'T—STOP!" of which Moose took as a command: "No, don't stop!" so he didn't.
The buzz of insects annoyed Moose; the lack of light also was a bummer. Still, though, he continued on fingering Morgan until her poon was thoroughly soaked. Then his cock was free and gliding effortlessly between her legs. The girl began shaking her head violently, but Moose expertly maneuvered the girl and cock, sliding into her cunny with ease.
Moose effortlessly made slow movements into the girl as she was careened at a 90-degree angle against the front seat; left leg cock upwards with the knee on the top of the seat, her chest pressed against the seat as she clung on for dear life. Moose eased into the girl's sex, pumping steadily, finding the girl's cunny a delight to fuck.
The tempo kicked up; Moose clutched the girl's hips and power-fucked her into oblivion. And more than once did the girl gasp and utter "OH! YEAH! YEAH! MORE! MORE! OOOOOH!" This only increased the tempo, and Moose Turdpie successfully brought the girl to a delightful orgasm. He felt her shudder as her pussy trembled and leaked rivers of cum.
"Son-of-a-bitch!" she said as she slid down the seat, heaving and gasping for breath. And in her delirium, there was some concern—Moose noted on his wondrous gizmo that altered the thought processes of modern-day minds—not all green across the board but yellow and a flickering red diode light, too.
Not good.
But as the girl regained herself—the lights flickered back to green and then were steady on. Rock on! Moose didn't have the full concept of how the marvelous machine worked but understood to some degree that emotions could fuck up a wet dream—or in the EMAD case, disable the effects of the mind-altering gadget.
Leaving Morgan and climbing over the seat, he faced the petrified Erica.
'Pull your legs back, sweetie,' Moose minded to the hapless girl.
He moved the girl's shoes and then pants off and then her green-tinted panties as she complied. Zach firstly wouldn't look, but as his sister moved into position, he did.
'Take your clothes off,' Moose minded to Zach, 'all of them.'
While Zach stripped to his skin, Moose sized up the thirteen-year-old.
Erica, from a mind probe, told of self-pleasuring—and pleasing her brother, Zach! Of pleasing herself—her dear daddy walked in on her whilst she was on her bed—but naked and "just a gettin' after it." He never walked in on her (unannounced) again. And, he didn't get onto her for what she was doing.
Pleasuring her brother? Oh!
Mutual masturbation; she did him, and he did her. No sex, no anal, no oral—just get naked and finger the hell out of each other. Good healthy wholesome Christian incest. Nothing wrong with that!
With her legs back, ass at the edge of the seat, Moose entered her virgin poon. It was a nice snug fit that with a mighty thrust disabled the intact hymen. Erica let out a sharp shriek but otherwise took the taking with moderate emotions. Sitting beside her, and Zachary was in his own emotional state—which was hard. He was in some sort of panic mode, too.
Erica squirmed as she was fucked; Moose pulled out to hump her pussy, poke her equally virginal asshole, then plunge back into the girl's freshly broken-in cunt. The pumping went on steadily from there on. Erica grunted; her young teenage titties jiggled, and her brother beside her pleasured himself.
Just as the good feelings were sailing through his body and more wicked thoughts prevailed—flashing lights were seen flickering in the distance behind him at the kids' disabled car.
Moose watched; there was no reason for the police to "look" down the lone rustic dirt road—but they did. A piercing light from a car's side search light stabbed into the bleak oncoming night, finding Moose's car. Moose tensed; the lights on his mind-altering device were flickering—all in the yellow. Not good. It meant the hold the magical device had on the siblings' minds was not firm.
A deputy sheriff's car pulled up; headlights bright, search light brighter.
The entire area was well illuminated, disgruntling Moose, who stood waiting by his car, arms folded, waiting.
"What's ya doin' out here, sir?" asked a tall lanky deputy.
Moose sighed dejectedly and cast a hand to his rapidly set up telescope.
"I WAS checking out the skies," he said, 'before your fucking lights obliterated THAT hobby!'
"Did you see anyone from the car?" asked the shorter deputy.
"What car?"
"There's a disabled car on the road," said the lanky fellow.
"I've been here a little while," Moose said, "haven't seen anyone."
"What kind of car is this?" asked the height-challenged cop.
Subject change. The deputy's car was a lame domestic sedan; the radio squawk box chattered further disrupting the serenity of the area.
"It's a 1959 Cadillac, 62 series." And it was cherry—with a bit o' "cherry juice" on the back seat!
Moose popped the hood and let the deputies check the awesome power plant. They also looked at the dash and were impressed with the overall appearance. Moose went on to explain the engine, transmission, and the general tremendous appeal the car had.
"It's also a decent chick magnet!" Moose chuckled.
The deputies were going on about cars they've had, "a '38 Coupe that used to be the Sully Boys' moon runner." "a '69 Barracuda" and a—
"Car Twelve, Car Twelve, Andy Greasslop says someone's walked off with his tractor—again."
Deputy Umphire shook his head and keyed the mike on his shoulder, answering and walking back to the car.
"Damn country kids," said the lanky deputy, "gots nuttin' better to do!" He ambled off and slid into the driver's seat. The piercing search light was switched off, and the car backed up to the road and was off, leaving Moose in the darkness.
Tapping the car's trunk (boot), he opened the lid and helped the confined naked teens out. Sighing, he contemplated his next move.
The escape
Contemplations all around; the interruption of the deputies was annoying. They had gone—but could be back. More annoyance. Stifling a yawn (and a pesky fart), he moved to Erica, who was closer. The girl tensed, gasped, and began breathing in quick short breaths. Zachary's pud was half hard, and he seemed to be fighting with himself to break free the mind grip.
Moose moved the girl to a "bent over" position, whereas she was to suckle his cock while her brother "took her" from behind. Moose had quickly dressed when just before the country deputies arrived, but now dropped his pants, slapping his wang against the pretty thirteen-year-old girl's face.
Just then, suddenly, Morgan darted.
The lights of his mind warper were flashing yellow and red—no mind control hardly whatsoever.
"Damn! Shit! Piss! Motherfucker!"
Moose bolted after the naked teenager, whirling around barking at her siblings, "Stay put!" 'if you know what's good for you!' He had no idea if they would or not; the EMAD was quirky and flashed green lights, indicating a strong presence of electronic hold, but the electronic mind hold on the fleeing Morgan flickered from yellow to red—red being no mind hold whatsoever.
Across the ditch, over the fence, narrowly missing the boulder but not the log did Moose chase after the fleeing Morgan. Moose went straight down to the ground, stirring up some lightning bugs. He could just barely make out the fleeing girl; turning back to his car, he could still see Zach and Erica holding fast. The EMAD's lights revealed that they were still electronically held. But for how much longer? What about distance? He knew already from past previous incidences that he could insert notions into the mind of a Subject and for the most part it would stick. Hopefully, that would remain true.
Morgan was nearly out of sight; she was a good runner, being tall and slender, but she was in unfamiliar territory, open ground, and naked. And instead of making for the road or through the woods, she darted out over an old wooden fence and into the open meadow. She was disorientated, but barging across an open moonlight field was probably not a good move.
The capture
But first!
The fright in the meadow.
As darkness became "dark" but still light enough from ambient sources to see somewhat, Moose stopped dead in his tracks as he heard a noise. It took only the second time hearing the noise to know what it was. And before him, some fifteen meters (fifty feet) was Morgan.
"Stand perfectly still," Moose said in a low voice. "Don't make any moves."
"I'm about to have one," she said sarcastically.
Causing the noise and Morgan's sarcasm was standing just some twenty-five feet away, a cougar. Moose slowly inched his way up to where Morgan stood.
"Don't even breathe," he whispered.
"No problem."
"When facing off with a cougar," Moose said off-sides, "try and look bigger than he is."
The cougar stood out in the moonlight; he was on a log laying against a misplaced boulder. The cougar had the advantage—and height.
"Shouldn't we run?" Morgan said; her voice reaching panic mode.
"No, he'll just run after you and rip your balls off."
Morgan shot him a sideways glance that wasn't nice.
"He's ready to pounce, like a kitten playing with a paper wad, or a mouse."
"And I'm the paper wad," breathed the panicking teen.
"And I'm the mouse." And truth be told, Moose wanted to dart across the meadow, too. But he held firm his stance—petrification will do that to you.Very, very slowly, Moose bent down searching the ground for a stone to throw, a stick, anything. The cougar held his ground, too, growling and licking his lips.
"This will sound stupid," Moose said lowly, "but if he charges, run to him."
Morgan didn't say anything, but she conveyed "Are you fucking crazy!?"
"Run at him screaming and yelling, flail your arms—it might scare him off."
Morgan was still speechless.
The cougar suddenly leaped.
"RUN!" shouted Moose.
And Morgan did—the other way.
No time to bitch or chase after the girl; the cougar was on Moose in a blinding flash. Moose, though, had come up with a hunk of wood, which he used to block the big cat's mouth from ripping out his jugular. The two rolled in mid-air, with Moose taking the brunt of the big animal's force with a mighty grunt. They rolled, and Moose managed somehow to throw the cat to the ground.
The animal was quick, though, and bounced up to lunge at Moose. The hunk of wood "snapped" as the big cat bit through it. Next up! Jugular! Moose tried to knee the animal, but that was met with a slash of big kitty claws. Moose let out a ripping yell as the cat's claws went to the bone.
Then suddenly there was Morgan—with an even BIGGER hunk of wood. Of course, she slung it like a typical girl, but it was enough to dislodge the pissed-off kitty. The cat disappeared into the bleak night, and Moose lay like a turd, heaving and reeling from his narrow death experience.
Morgan knelt beside him—her mind was wrecked, ravaged, confused.
"A-are—are you alright?" she asked concerningly.
A little shaken, a lot stirred, Moose sighed and gripped the ground. Nodding, he sat up, breathing hard.
"Just fine, hon," then, "thanks."
Half a second later, "And, oh, this—" zapped her mind with the EMAD. | null | Chapter 21 | Authors/Bootscooter/AugMoone Bk9 Chptr 21.txt |
112,707 | Bootscooter | August Moone | You don't accidentally become an ass. It takes a bit of work.
She wasn't happy with her situation, even less happy to learn of her deadbeat worthless ex-husband's shenanigans against their son. And the situation she wasn't happy with only increased with more unwilling servants brought into the mix. A woman with two children.
The "who" who had brought them was still fuzzy to Samantha, when she tried to get a clear picture of her mind clouded and no "clear picture" to commit to memory was possible. It was a man and a woman. Sam and her son, Alex, were "incarcerated" in what was probably a basement structure along with several others; three young boys, too.
Sam knew well enough that she was under the influence of an EMAD. There was no resistance, she tried. But at the threat of harm to her son (physical harm) she had little choice but to comply.
Comply. Sam wasn't overly thrilled with having to comply to being nude with her ten-year-old son. But that matter little to having to have SEX with her ten-year-old son! Recently she had been forced (via EMAD) to suck her son's penis, his testicles, and lick the cum from his asshole after the Man had viciously sodomized him.
Then it was the three boys also with them, the youngest was a black boy about eight or nine, then a ten-year-old boy and then a twelve-year-old. Each boy took a "turn" screwing her; each boy had sucked on her titties, titty fucked her, peed on her face and pussy, and sodomized her.
The three boys, too, had sodomized her son, Alex. Alex, in turn, fucked them in the ass, sucked their cocks and balls and then stood face to face kissing. It was the ultimate horror. She didn't know how much more she could take.
The new woman felt the same, she was quick to realize that her situation was "fucked" and she would be, too. She was a bit older than Sam, but not by much. With her she had her eleven-year-old son and ten-year-old daughter. With her, too, but not biologically connected were three young girls and one teen boy.
The teen boy seemed most petrified. One of the girls was his sister, a blond-haired girl who was very cute and all of about twelve years old. The two other girls were about ten, one was of Chinese origin. They were equally cute and equally as petrified as everyone else.
The teen boy tried to be protective of his sister, she had peed herself but had good reason. The new group was mustered into the area Sam occupied and trembled. They were just as confused, frightened, piss-scared as anything. Wesley Lahram caught the nakedness of Samantha Taggert.
'Holy shit!' was etched on his lips. The teen's twelve-year-old sister braced up against her brother, pissing her pants even more. Wesley snugged her, his hands inadvertently clutching at her breasts. The other girls wept and clutched their fingers, curling their toes and staring at the naked woman and her son. It was bizarre and most knew (sorta) what was coming.
Before the new group of arrivals the naked Sam laid out on the single bed, legs opened, fingering herself. Her young son stood by the bed fingering himself, too.
Showtime!
*
Greatly did Will try to fend off the invading command "Take off your clothes." It was a Man's voice followed by a Woman's voice; the same two voices that had overwhelmed him earlier at the movieplex arena. Try as he might he couldn't shake the commands and found himself strongly compelled to go into the parking lot and get into a car. Only when in transit did he realize his sister Holly was with him. Only when ordered out of the car at the end of the ride did he realize that an EMAD was in the works working on them and it was strong, powerful, and damned impossible to defeat.
'Take off your clothes.'
Will struggled and struggled but as he did so he felt undue discomfort, a headache, stomach ills, and screams from behind around him. He saw his sweet sister screaming and she seemed to be in great agony. Will in no way wanted to see her in pain—unless he brought it to her himself (a brotherly/sisterly thing.)
So Will shucked his shoes, socks, shirt, and then pants. He really tried holding off stripping off his boxers but the invading Voices demanded that he do so. Once nude he stood staring at the woman on the bed. She was in her twenties, naked, and had a nice bod.
'Are you a virgin?' a Man voice asked inquiringly.
'No, y-es, no, no.' Will replied in his mind. An image of Polly Parker came to his mind; a pretty blond-potential cheerleader who had "played" with his cock as he "played" with her titties. But as to actually "getting some"—no. He was a virgin in that respect.
'Ever eat out a girl's pussy?'
Will nearly choked. He didn't understand how the Voice was speaking to him inside his mind and he didn't know if he was responding verbally or what, either. But the answer was a "no."
'Ever SEE a girl's pussy?'
Will blinked his eyes and shook his head trying hard to shake the invading Voice and not respond to the question—but the power of the obvious EMAD use was too much. The image of his sister came to be. Try as might he was unable to blot out Holly's image—the image of his sweet somewhat naïve sister naked.
He had seen her in her room on her bed, naked, fingering herself. They were avid campers and had seen her squatting having herself a good pee. They had slept in the same tent and he had seen her changing clothes—
'Has she seen YOU also? Naked? Playing with yourself?'
The questions were not particularly horrid but not something Will wished to divulge or be let known to anyone but himself and sister Holly. But there seemed to be no keeping the secret to himself. The image of himself naked in the tent while camping came to his mind. There was a lantern on low that shed some light in the tent—revealing that he and his sister were equally nude.
But wait! There's more!
Holly was on her hands and knees, Will behind her rubbing his cock on her pre-teen ass! The girl placed her face down onto her sleeping bag and with one hand parted a butt cheek while the other hand diddled her pussy. Will made dutiful anal entry and nicely sodomized her.
But he had never been in her mouth, between her breasts, or in her pussy. The girl masturbated him and he shot wads of his goo onto her very sweet face, she had "tasted" the goo (and didn't like it) and in turn he had "gone down" on her. It was certain that at some point in time in their relationship Will was "gonna get some". He was actually waiting until she was about thirteen…
Holly was five months away from being thirteen.
Close enough!
'Get on her.'
For a moment it felt like he was wearing the proverbial "lead and/or cement shoes" and he couldn't move. He stared at the naked woman on the bed with her legs open. She wasn't bad, not bad at all. Will's cock stood out before him, his ass clenched tight as he was also embarrassed along with being naked.
'Get on her and FUCK or your sister's suffers.'
Will slowly stepped the few feet to the bed and suddenly felt the "weight" off of him. There wasn't much light in the "area" but enough to show that the woman on the bed was very nice. Mid-twenties, a nice looker who looked even younger than she looked. She appeared a little—frightened, though, and that disturbed Will. He fingered out that the woman was under the influence of an EMAD, too.
But still, his cock was hard, she was hot, and into her sex he went.
The others stood behind/around and watched. Will seemed to enjoy what he was doing, oblivious to the fact that he was not alone. All that mattered was to fuck and cum. (and it was ten times as better in pussy than asshole!)
Samantha tried to resist—the feeling of joy as the teenage hunk humped her pussy. Her eyes fluttered, nipples hardened, toes curled and her cunt tingled all on their own. She wanted to resist and not give in but was unable to; as the teen hunk drove his impressive cock into her she wrapped her legs about his waist, her arms about his backside and "got into it."
'Move up on her.' the Voice said, supply needful information about how to make good love; pressing the body to the lover, the cock moved up right up against the hood of the pussy created a unique technique of incredible "good feelings." An orgasm was inevitable.
Will "moved up" on Samantha, his hunky teen cock nicely provoking the woman to submit to orgasmic bliss. She twisted, moaned, and humped back into her teen lover and soon was engaging in a torrent of blissful release.
So was Will.
On his own, Will raised up, locked his arms, and power fucked Sam's cunt. Those standing behind could see most of his teen schlong coming out of the woman's cunt as well as even a time or two the head of the cock; but it just as quickly slammed back in. The viewers were all getting a sex education that was way better than the subtle crap they learned from their schools.
On his own, Will also sucked on Sam's titties. It was while doing so that it was found that he was not totally against what was happening. He did not wish to see his sister harmed, or even the other kids, but beyond that—screwing someone like Sam was ok.
After the mutual orgasm Will lay off to one side of Sam, cum still leaked from his prick, gushers of cum oozed from Sam's pussy. Her nipples were still "hard" and Will (on his own) tweaked them as he lay "resting." So while he rested,
'Take off your clothes.'
Jolene Neelak shook her head—in no way was she willingly going to comply with that vile command. Operative word "willingly." It felt like some other force, someone's hands, began undressing her. But she saw that it was her own hands undoing her black knit slacks and pushing them down. Shaking her head, uttering "NO, no, no!" didn't stop her hands, she had little idea of how an EMAD worked but knew that one was working on her.Her children clung to one another, cringing and crying. Her daughter Brenda shed more tears than her brother Johnny, but his distress was boy-type, so he didn't openly share it. He clenched his neck muscles tight and stared at his mother as she stripped to the skin.
Jolene tried like anything to resist, and the more she did, the more the force compelling her compelled her to the point of giving her pain. A message was given to her: 'If you don't behave, if you don't comply, your children will suffer.'
It seemed like a freight train was roaring through her head, there were blinding, exploding, brilliant flashes of white light, and an irritating siren in the mix, too. The more she resisted, the more the distress became. It was better to "give in."
Giving in, though, was not an option for the single mother of two. But suddenly, she found herself with her black knit slacks at her ankles, along with her powder blue cotton panties. Her purple blouse was off, along with her bra. She was nude.
The woman on the bed swung her legs off the bed, stood up, and sat on a cardboard box that possibly contained "bedding," as it was written on the box's sides. She sat with her legs open, diddling her spunk-laden cunt. She seemed distressed, serious, and concerned. She was not at all happy with her situation, but like Jolene (and the others), there was no choice.
'Get on the bed, lay down,' the Voice said to her.
Jolene held firmly to the concrete floor, her eyes locked onto the boy who still lay there. 'No way,' she replied in her mind.
'As you wish.'
Then suddenly, her ten-year-old daughter (who looked at least eleven) was abruptly taken from her and "bent over." Almost instantly, she began to wail as her Sunday School dress was hiked up, panties down (to her knees). Jolene protested, brother Johnny pissed his pants and fell to his knees crying. Brenda began to cry and pee, too, as a terrible reign of swats landed on the girl's bare ass.
When, after Brenda's sweet, tender ass was tomato red, the swatting ceased—long enough for a question to be posed:
'Will you get on the bed, now?'
In her mind, Jolene let rip a torrent of verbal mind abuse back to the "whoever" was in control. She was furious and beyond pissed.
"You son-of-a-bitch!" she seethed.
'Compliance is all that is necessary to avoid further punishment.'
"You fucking bastard!" continued to rant Jolene.
Seeing that Jolene wasn't going to comply readily as desired, Brenda suffered more until she was nearly bleeding. The poor, hapless girl begged her mother, "JUST FUCKING DO IT, GOD DAMN IT!"
Never had her mother heard such words from her daughter. They were Christians and very devout in their religion. Cursings and swearings just weren't a part of their lifestyle—well, so far as Jolene knew and thought. She knew that her public school children were surrounded by foul-mouthed kids; there were unChristian things in their every day life—not just from the schoolyard but on everyday TV, the supermarket, the movies, and even school-sponsored reading material.
But in their household, general cussing just wasn't tolerated.
Jolene continued to resist but finally moved to the bed, seething, breathing hard, and swearing under her breath herself. The teen boy who lay there moved up to be pressed against the wall of boxes that separated "two rooms." His cock was limp, dripping cum, but thick and ready for "round two." Jolene knew what was to come, so did the boy.
'Play with his cock, get him hard.'
Jolene sunk (emotionally). She shook her head, but knew that would be no good. Her daughter was brought so as she could see her with her near-bleeding ass. 'I'll skin her off and then start on the boy...' the Voice invaded her mind. Jolene tightened her neck, seethed, snorted, and vowed vengeance. But she placed her fingers about Will's softened cock and began to "play" with it.Holly lay twisted, wrenching, undulating.
Holly's brother, Will, was a little pissed and greatly furious—but not directed at the boy, Johnny. He knew the youngster wasn't in control of himself. Holly didn't seem to be in any distress, but she was no longer a virgin.
Johnny felt a little discomfort at the doings, but the pleasure overrode the discomfort, and he sunk all of his young eleven-year-old cock into Holly's twelve-year-old cunt. Sister Brenda had to rub her brother's ass, hold his balls, and "await" her turn.
Brenda's turn was soon to come, but first!
Johnny entered into that wondrous realm that was orgasmic. His body twitched; toes curled, eyes fluttered, and it was the most fantastic orgasm he had ever had! He had cum on Brenda's lily-white ass a few times and jacked off onto her naked chest while she sat on the toilet—with her helping the jacking-off procedure—but cumming off while actually fucking was tremendous!
Brenda continued to hold her brother's testicles, rubbing his bare sweaty butt, and having an eyeful of what sex was really about. Of course, the blood coating her brother's dick was kind of gross.
When the boy was done and done, slipping out and laying off to his side up against the stacked boxes, the grossness was everywhere. Holly wasn't too thrilled about her breached pussy or the blood that coated it.
It was Jolene who came to clean off Holly's bloodied cunt; using the girl's soiled, wet, pissed-in panties. She also wiped clean Johnny's cock, then sucked him. From behind her, Will on his knees parted her cheeks and drove his tongue into her asshole.
Johnny's pud was sore, it felt strange and very different. He was also more than puzzled by the whole affair, more than confused. He lay still, breathing hard, watching (and waiting.)
Holly lay breathing hard, sweating, whimpering. She, too, waited. She knew that it wasn't over. She was right, very right—it was far from over—very far.
Three boys came into the small, secluded basement partitioned room. Three nude boys with raging hard-ons. The oldest boy was twelve-ish, another lad was a couple years younger, while the third boy, an African-American child, was no more than eight. All three took "turns" screwing Holly, further breaking her in.
The oldest boy, Greg, took his time, but as he was in the middle of the fuck, he suddenly sped up his piston fucking. Holly's young, tender breasts jiggled, her pretty eyes bulged, and she couldn't believe what was happening to her. There were some faces made, on both parties involved; Will made faces, too—he was pissed and getting pissededer.
After the last boy had fucked for five full minutes, the boys went out of the partition back to their own area.
'Your turn.'
The Voice was calm but direct. Will licked his lips. It WAS a dream come true, sure, but to have to screw his own sister with everyone present just wasn't cool. His eyes fell on the others, especially the two other girls he didn't know—but they were nude, cute, and no more than eleven years young or so. He knew in the back of his mind that before it was over—if it was ever over—he'd be screwing them, too.
(And he'd be right!)
Neighborhood Watch
Welcome to Wisconsin—Smell Our Dairy Air!
A nice walk in the cool of the evening was just the thing. There were roses heavily scenting the air, along with the pine trees that lined the center of the street. Honeysuckle vines and odiferous geraniums filled the air wondrously, too. It made Ben Wiccked's walk a little more pleasant.
There was a lot on his "plate." The business in his basement was out of control. Was there no end? Sure, he loved engaging with them, with them all, but it wasn't normal—it flat wasn't normal! He needed a break, a clean break. He wanted to dispense with the abnormality of his life and get back to normal.
If that was possible.
He doubted it.
So he walked, leaving Leeann to "play" with basement inhabitants.
He knew that he himself had "issues." There was a desire, unnatural, to engage immorally with Jolene and Samantha. Also with Will's sister, Holly; also with Jolene's children, Johnny and Brenda. There, too, were the other two little girls, Susannah and her friend, Minn, a Chinese girl.
His thoughts drifted back to Emily.
And the first girls brought to the basement.
Emily.
The cabin.
It seemed so long ago.
His cock ached.
He remembered (fervently) the screwing of young Emily, and he had hoped to enjoy such pleasures with his own children—Amber, Bonnie, and Caitlin.
Amber, Bonnie, and Caitlin.
Bathtime.
His "Little Man" had been the object of their attention—and they had been coaxed to play with it by their Mother! By their Mother! And Ben had not stopped it—although he knew that he should have. Into their young, sweet mouths he had at length gotten to shoot his Little Man's spit. His tongue had gone into his girls' poons, licking them until his Little Man had become cum-shooting hard. Each of his precious girls then did get a taste of his essence.
And all with the girls' Mother nakedly on the bed with them.
There were even more horrendous desires; but like Emily, like Holly, they needed broken in. Broken in. Amber was seven, she was years away before there was any possibility of him having sex with her. Bonnie was five, and Caitlin was four. They were years away before his cock could penetrate them. So he would have to satisfy himself with his tonguing and fingering of them. Along with a lot of humping on them, too.
Crossing Chestnut Ave., he merged onto the next block. Most of the homes had white picket fences, seemed to be a thing with the block neighborhood. Many of the homes were built in the early fifties, large front yards, small backyards, two-stories, chestnut trees in every yard and down the middle of the street.
The Crush
It seemed preposterous—on several levels. But in the cool of the eve, in the dark of the eve, on the secluded side of a modest home, two young people hid with naughtiness on their agenda. One of the young people was, of course, a girl. The other a boy. The boy was about a year older, the girl, about nine. Details about their appearance were not so good—it was dark. But by their voices, they were known (to the spying Ben Wiccked.)
"Ooooh, I like that," spoke up the boy.
Of course he did, the girl was handling his cock!
The boy's pants (and underwear) were down at his knees. He held his shirt up while the girl, pressed up against the wall of her house, fondled the boy's prick. The girl, Wendy, had a short dress on; Ben knew her—mostly his oldest child, Amber, knew her. They were in the Junior Beavers club, a subsidiary of Brownie Scouts that was a subsidiary of the regular Girl Scouts. Wendy was a cutie, and very cute when she wore her Junior Beaver outfit—a short-short brown dress.
Wendy Cenis had lovely brown hair that gently surrounded her sweet-sweet face. She was a lovely girl all around with barely budding breasts. There was that intoxicating smile of hers that warmed most of those she met, her pretty eyes and naivete did the rest.
The boy she was with, Harold "Harry" Plumpkin, was ten. A sandy brown-haired young fellow who delivered the morning's newspaper. He had a good aim and usually managed to land the paper on the doorsteps of the four blocks he had his route. He was a sweet kid, and when he came "collecting" for said morning's paper, he was polite, and Ben (on occasion) thought naughty thoughts of him.
Ben, too, had naughty thoughts for Wendy, too.
But Ben felt that there was something more going on with Wendy and Harry, and more of Wendy than Harry.
"I think it's ready," Harry said, indicating to Wendy that his cock was ready to "shoot." Wendy paused in her handling of the boy's dick, she chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip, gulped apprehensively, then sighed.
"Ok," she said at length. Then, pursing both lips, she worked her panties down.
Young Harry stood awkwardly, but in the darkness, he was unable to see his young beauty clearly. Ben knew that the lad would probably very much enjoy a trip to his (Ben's) basement. "Maybe I should start charging…" the thought crossed his mind. Open a business, charge boys like Harry a few dollars or so to come in and "have a go" at whoever was there. Girls, too.
Ben smiled and was hard. He knew that such a business was undoubtedly popular and probably going on—and probably going on in his own neighborhood! He knew, too, that it wouldn't be only Boys and Girls who would seek his wicked basement out, but adults, too. Men especially, but women, like his Leeann, would come to get their cunnies "fixed."
It could be a very profitable business.
Anyways,
Young Wendy Cenis laid herself out nude on her dress, legs open. Partially nude and clumsy boy Harry plopped himself down between her legs, his pants and underwear at his ankles. There was a partial moonlight that helped the cause, but Ben still couldn't see very much. He needed to be closer.
"Ow, that hurts!" wailed Wendy. She thrashed about, screwing up her pretty-pretty face. She grabbed up clumps of grass and hit the side of her house's foundation, but endured her first fuck.
Young Harry humped, but was uncoordinated and embarrassed. His pud kept slipping out of Wendy's virgin cunt, and mostly he just "rode" the girl's slit. Wendy, though, would make a grab for his humping prong and guided it back where it belonged.
It was clear that the girl was in charge.
And she had a reason.
Not for the sake of merely "getting laid", she had an ulterior motive for having sex with Harry. Wendy Cenis had a "crush" on a boy, five years older than she. He was dreamy, creamy, and she wanted him. He had sung to her a beautiful song, just for her. He was awesome. He was cute. He was fourteen!
His name was Drake Bellrtum, and he was HOT! But only to a few select girls.He wasn't ugly, didn't have a face of pock marks, zits, or Frankenstein-esque scars, but there were other boys (in his age group) that were more appealing to the girls (in his age group) and so he was left with those girls (in his age group) who weren't so picky.
Of those girls who liked Drake "as is" was Wendy Cenis. Wendy was a family friend, a friend of Drake's little sister, Megan. Megan, too, was in the Junior Beaver club and so they had "sleepovers" at the Belltrum household. There were plenty—plenty of opportunities for a horndog like Drake to be naughty with the Junior Beavers, but he had morals—one of the few boys that did. Morals, ethics, and so on. He had a young sister, Wendy's age; so sure he had seen her in her underwear, naked, and so on. Sure she had seen him equally so. In the Belltrum household, that was tolerated and kept to themselves.
And Wendy Cenis wanted Drake to herself.
So she conspired. She thought he was the most handsome boy ever. He had looks, appeal, and wore tight jeans. She didn't particularly know exactly what "tight jeans" had to do with anything, but he had tight jeans. And Drake "liked" her, but not "like-liked" her. He was always there when she came over—but he lived there. He was nice to her, and after a week of "courting", he sang her a song, just for her.
It made her feel all tingly inside and all over—'specially betwixt her legs. At nine, the young girl was just beginning to discover her body. Of course, with the advent of the nation reeling in the wake of sexual depravity, virtually everyone was susceptible to some sort of sexual awakening. Young Wendy Cenis was no exception.
The young girl was "aware" of her poon and pooter and what they were for and did. Peeing & Pooping. When she bathed she washed them, when she sat on the toilet she wiped them—all without much thought whatsoever.
After setting eyes on Drake, she found her cunny tingling and exploring it made her gush all over. Her sexual awakening had begun. She had seen other boys (in their swimsuits) and young boys naked. No biggie. She wanted to see Drake, naked. She didn't particularly know WHY, but she just did.
At length, after a week, Wendy became more and more infatuated and began making unannounced appearances in Drake's life. Appearing at the Belltrum home when No One else was there; appearing at his school at his class; interrupting a possible "connection" between a possible girlfriend; appearing at the radio show where he was performing and making a fool of herself—although she didn't know it (or care) and embarrassing Drake.
Finally, Drake had to confront Wendy on the matter and it didn't go well. He hurt her feelings. And as soon as he said, "I don't want you in my life" he knew it. The girl was crushed. Drake felt like he had been hit by a truck. It was an awful feeling to make someone else feel awful.
When Wendy started to cry, Drake came to her. She backed up sobbing, clutching her fist unable to flee. Drake felt like two trucks and a bus had hit him. He was a "nice guy" and nice guys didn't make little girls cry. So, on his knees he positioned himself before her.
"I'm sorry," he began, he shed tears himself, held her trembling hands and offered a weak meager smile. Wendy, still crushed, returned same. Drake knew that their relationship now had a major chink in it. He struggled trying to think of a way to make it better.
To be smitten was one thing, to be in orbit (say out around Pandora—4th moon of Saturn) was something else. Drake sang Wendy his song, 'specially written for her. The girl nearly soiled her panties!
The tears dried, the trembling ceased to be, and all was well. They embraced and for a brief moment, they kissed. What Drake's thoughts and personal feelings were, and whether or not he got a boner as a result, was not known. For Wendy, she was in high equatorial orbit. She clung to the boy and Drake realized that he still needed to set things straight—without hurting her.
"I'm fourteen, you're nine," he began, "I-I can only go with girls my age. Y-you-you're supposed to go with guys—you know, your age."
"The guys I know are dorks," Wendy reported. And it was true, boys her age WERE dorks.
Drake was in a spot.
"Wendy, listen, I-I like you, I do, but--"
"What do girls YOUR age have that I haven't got!?"
Boobs. Boobs and poon pie hair. Fuckable pussy. Fuckable asshole. Fuckable mouth. A willingness to "put out". A "form" to their body. And a long list of things mostly sexual.
Drake stammered, surreptitiously gouged the heel of his hand to his crotch (as seen thru Wendy's eyes) and seemed very embarrassed "all of a sudden."
"They're just older, that's all," Drake said trying to find more appropriate words.
"It's sex, isn't it?"
Drake nearly lost right then and there. His breath, his will to live…
Wendy knew it. It was sex. Of course, Drake WAS fourteen, of course he was having sex. Wendy mulled it over and formulated a plan.
"I can do that," she said.
"D-do what?" Drake asked not knowing and not WANTING to know.
"Sex," Wendy replied without providing details.
Drake blinked his eyes, flared his nose, and backed up a couple paces.
"Sex?" he inquired. "Uh-uh, Wen-Wendy you're too young for sex." And how! He had seen his little sis naked, in her underwear, and so the image of Wendy in her underwear AND naked was very easy.
Wendy suddenly reached up under her short brown Junior Beaver uniform dress and pulled down her panties. Drake lost it—his ability to breathe and his ability to hold back an orgasm.
He moaned. He groaned. He turned beet red.
Wendy had basic white panties, with pink flowers. She tugged the garment down to her knees, then pulled her dress up—revealing her bald naked pussy.
"Oooooh!" breathed Drake. When at times he had seen Megan naked, he usually averted his eyes trying not to think of her in a sexual way. Megan's image was often replaced by girls his age that he knew. His moral fibers were plucked and vibrated hard like the strings of a harp.
"Whaddya think?" Wendy asked.
'Holy shit!' was Drake's expression. All he could manage was to stare. He wished it was some other girl, Jenna Macaslin, Heather Corbin, Lanna McFee. Those girls were his age. But it was not Jenna, Heather, or Lanna. It was Wendy. Nine year old Wendy.
Funny, though, only Wendy was willing to pull her panties down and give up her cunny! Yeah, funny.
"Aren't I pretty enough?" Wendy asked discovering that Drake wasn't apparently interested in her (sex).
"Oh, oh it's not that," he said quickly not wanting to hurt her and see her cry again, "it's just--"
"Because you're fourteen and I'm nine?"
"Yeah, that would be it."
Wendy WAS hurt, again. She lowered her dress (but didn't pull up her panties.) She stood mulling something over.
"Look, Wendy," Drake had to explain, "I AM fourteen, you ARE nine." It was not just the age difference, it was against the law, immoral, wrong, illegal. "I can get into a LOT of trouble." Arrested, thrown in the pokey where he'd get poked; no school, no home, no Wendy.
"I don't want that to happen!" stated Wendy. Which was good, which was what Drake wanted to hear. (but she still didn't pull her panties back up!)
"Soooo, we can just keep it to ourselves," she suggested.
It was impossible. Drake was in a spot.
"I-I don't know what to do, Wendy," he pleaded. It was an impossible situation.
"You don't want to do sex with me?"
Drake lost it again, the thought—the very thought of engaging sexually with a girl like Wendy, a NINE year old girl like Wendy was mind boggling, simply mind boggling.
"Wen-Wendy, I-I can't, I-I'm too big for you."
"What do you mean?" she asked needing clarity. "I don't mind to be on top."
Drake's solar pursuit now included passing by Andromeda.
Drake cocked his head, gouged his crotch and stammered to breathe.
"I-I meant, my—uh, my—uh, I meant my," he looked down to his crotch to try and convey to the nine year old that his DICK was too big for her CUNT.
Wendy got it. Surprisingly.
"Oh, you're manhood is too big for my womanness?"
"Yeah—yeah, what?" for nine she sure seemed educated.
Wendy shrugged, stepped forward, stepping out of her panties and "gawking" for a look at Drake's "manhood."
The setting was up in Drake's bedroom—of all places. It was a typical boy's room with baseball icons on the walls, model airplanes hanging from the ceiling, a fish tank on the desk, various clutter here and there. His room was on the 2nd floor, there were two windows and the day was evening type time. His parents were working with one fetching the youngest member of the family from a dance class.
Drake backed up against his desk, sidestepping towards one of the two windows.
"Can I see it?"
Drake cocked his head, eyes bulged, breath gone."No way!" he proclaimed.
"Please?" whined the little girl.
Drake was at his limit; the only girl who asks to see his manhood, and it's from a nine-year-old! Life could be so cruel. And for a moment, he seriously considered doing so! But the moral fibers were not so readily unhinged. Sure, Wendy had no panties on and asked to see his willy; sure, no one was home; and sure, he was horny. But...
Greatly was he perplexed. There was a need to "whip it out," but he couldn't, he just couldn't. Could he? What would be the repercussions of submitting to doing such a deed?
Only he and she would know.
Wendy came to lean against the foot of his bed, methodically twisting her fingers, lips, and feet. Drake set his eyes on her pretty-pretty face, down her body, and then a side glance to where her panties lay.
Wendy thought thoughtfully, tugging on her unglossed lips; she then turned and pushed herself up onto Drake's bed. Whether she was up to a new ploy or it was a normal thing—and forgetting the fact that she no longer had her panties on or not was not clear. But for Drake, he saw her goody. It was bald, hairless, and virginal. Drake's awareness about "sex" was limited; he knew how to do it, he knew that it had to be better than his hand; but that was about it. He knew a girl could get pregnant from sex; he knew a girl could give him oral pleasure. Other than that—his knowledge was limited.
Wendy chewed on the inside of her mouth, licking her lips (hungrily) eyeing Drake's crotch. He was uncomfortable. He teetered right on the edge, a fine razor's edge, knowing very well—whipping it out meant he would not only be giving in to Wendy's desires, but to the Dark Side of immorality.
So what harm would there be in "whipping it out"? What then?
Sighing, sweating, gulping uneasily, he unhitched his pants, unzipped, and whipped it out.
It made Wendy's day. She flew up to a sitting position to eye Drake's dick a little better, a little closer. "Whoa," she exclaimed. A great broad smile was upon her sweet face—her admiration made Drake feel gushy, too; he swelled with pride—so did his dick.
Feeling confident, he tugged on his prong, squeezing the skin at the base to make his cock even BIGGER. Wendy was awed and sat leaning close in with her mouth open. Drake had never had oral sex, never had anal or vaginal; never had his cock out in the presence of anyone—but the desire was there—oh, yeah, it was there.
"Can I touch it?"
'Can you TOUCH it!?' what was she saying!? It was unbelievable, unFUCKINGbelievable! His cock, though, surged with even more pride saying, 'yeah, go ahead, let her touch me.'
Whether or not he had actually given the girl the go-ahead or not, he didn't know; the space of time began to become oblivious to him—the next thing he knew was, though, little Wendy Cenis, little nine-year-old Wendy Cenis, was stroking his cock.
She had a lovely touch, too.
Drake's eyes fluttered. The girl wrapped her little fingers about his prong and went UP and DOWN, squeezing lightly and working his cock into a near frenzy. The frenzy increased until the pivotal moment was upon him—her.
"Ut oh," he announced.
"What's wrong?" Wendy asked.
"I-I'm gonna cum!" he blurted.
"What's that?"
He didn't know exactly himself; it was goo, it was white milky goo, and when it blasted out of his dick, there was a feeling of extreme pleasure that was beyond comprehension. And he could only assume that the feeling was even better if done so in a girl's orifice.
As the feeling increased, Drake no longer cared about morals. He no longer cared that it was Wendy he was about to cum on; he no longer cared that he was being naughty with her in his room with no one else home. All that mattered was to cum and to cum well.
"Take your dress off," Drake said. And he couldn't believe that he said it—he was no longer in control of himself—his cock had taken over.
As Wendy pulled off her brown uniform dress, Drake jacked his dick faster and faster. The desire to be IN the girl's pussy increased ten-fold. Wendy watched him as he pleasured himself. There was unknown glistening fluid at the penis opening; she didn't know what it was—nor did Drake.
"Here it comes!" Drake announced, and as soon as he said it, a great explosion of sperm spewed fantastically from his cock. The first gob struck Wendy on her chin. The next burst splashed on her throat. The third ejection squirted onto her chest. The rest dribbled out as the apex of the act had been achieved.
Wendy wiped the spew from her chin, examined it, then TASTED it.
Drake stared wide-eyed, mouth agape.
The taste of "spunk" was not very appealing. Kinda gross, actually. She continued, though, to wipe the goo, taste, then finger her pussy. She blushed, grinned, and tingled all over. Biting in her lower lip, she laid out, legs open wide, diddling her virgin cunt with spunk-laden fingers.
It only made Drake go ballistic, and there was no sign of moral fibers.It was very late, and a worried mother and father were on the steps, with the father holding a phone, ready to call the local police to report their "missing" son. Ben zapped them both and spent many minutes putting their fears to rest.
He wasn't in the mood for any shenanigans with the mother, although she was a delightful dish and worthy of a good fucking, he didn't. Harry was escorted to the bathroom, where he was showered up, fucked in the ass once more, spanked, peed on, showered some more, and somewhat adored. The nude boy pleased Ben. He liked boys, nude boys. They were equally as pleasing as girls, if not even more so!
For a long while, he had fondled Harry's balls, squeezing them until the boy whimpered. For a while, he had masturbated the boy, tugging on Harry's cock, rolling his fingers about the crown. For a time, he had suckled on the boy's penis, diddling his tongue into the lad's piss slit, then totally devouring the whole of the cock as well as the testicles.
Sodomizing the boy was grand, that was true, but just looking upon the boy with his eyes, feeling of him with his hands, was even more (sexually) pleasing. A great amount of cum juice had Ben squirted up into Harry's hole, gobs of man juice coated the boy's testicles, cock, stomach, and chest.
While recovering, Ben had kissed the boy, a deep passionate man-boy love where the passion heated to astounding levels of lust. He very nearly had smothered the boy (with his mouth). Down the back alley, they had walked nakedly until arriving at Harry's home. Once in the home, with the parents satiated, "fixed," and put to bed, Ben enjoyed Harry all the more.
Meanwhile, down in the basement...
Will Marshall vehemently tried not submitting to the vile commands given to him, but ultimately submitted just the same (as he did not wish to see anyone put in pain on his part). So he licked out his sister's pussy. So he held her legs back, opened her legs wide, and licked out her freshly broken-in cunt—followed by diddling his tongue to her pert clenching asshole. Holly wasn't too much into the foul deed—not in the presence of everyone else anyway.
Samantha and Jolene at length held her legs firm while Will noshed on his twelve-year-old sister's twat. He got into it (the tonguing) and soon was ready to fuck, too. He had been in her ass(hole) and always dreamed of humping her cunt—when she was older.
And almost from the beginning (of penetration), he had cum. That had been earlier, hours earlier. On his second entry, the act went a little better; the girl had been nailed by several boys, all young boys—"breaking her in." After they had fucked her, Will got his turn; then those same boys fucked her again, then it was some man and then Will again.
The man in their midst seemed to be "gone," but the nude woman was still present and apparently the one in charge or something. Other than having to screw his own sister, Will, too, had sunk his bone into the women—including the one who seemed to be in charge.
That he didn't mind so much. He knew that the ones called Samantha and Jolene were captives, too; some of the kids with them were their own. They were all in the same boat and forced to engage in sexual immorality. Will was "so-so" about the matter, if done differently, privately, then he was ok with it. Balling his sister was no big deal; banging off into the women, Samantha and Jolene, was no big deal. Engaging with Jolene's daughter, Brenda, and the other two ten-year-old girls—that was a big deal.
But he had a hard-on for them, too, just the same.
After filling Holly's cunt with his cock grease, he had to watch in horror as the one called Samantha licked the girl's pussy clean of jiz, the one called Jolene sucked his cock clean—and made it hard again. To Will, it was like some bizarre fucking dream. Both women, and they were women, were good. They were nice, good breasts, good body all over. He was just embarrassed at the situation.
After filling Holly's cunt with his cock grease, he filled her mouth, too. Holly had played with his cock and got him to shoot his goo onto her bare titties—when they were camping or at home (and no one else home); she had been tempted to SUCK it but couldn't really bring herself to do so. She had tasted his "goo"—but didn't like it.
After filling Holly's sweet face with foul-tasting goo, Will had to rest. No matter how much Jolene sucked his cock, fondled his balls, and even finger-fucked his asshole while she sucked him, Will couldn't get hard. Samantha had the task of cleaning Holly's face.
Unable to get a sufficient boner, Jolene's daughter, Brenda, was brought into play. When Jolene protested, the others suffered—falling to the cement floor, wailing, coiling up, and expressing sincere distress. It didn't do well for Jolene, either. She relented, and Brenda slurped Will's schlong.
(If under different circumstances, a different more private locale, getting a hummer from the pretty girl would have been met with a bit more enthusiasm.)
Brenda was a cutey; for ten, she had a good body, budding breasts, a lovely smile, and a nice bald poon. She also had a "nice vacuum sucking mouth." In no time at all, he had a raging hard-on, and with her continuing help, it was guided into Holly's asshole.
And then there was Susannah. And Minn Pai-Chin.
Susannah Barns had brown eyes, brown hair, and a fantastic smile. She spoke well, enunciated her words succinctly, and was somewhat naïve. She was in awe of Will's nudity. She was sickened by the horror of the sexual abuse—she had never seen a grown man nude or, for that matter, teen boys. Young boys, yes, but that was normal and a given.
Susannah was a very friendly, outgoing child, an only child who had been adopted by a good family. A small body, but she was ten. Her breasts were just beginning to bud. She had a decent body any perv would love.
Her friend, Minn, was a Chinese girl, flat-chested. Flat face, too, but she had a nice butt, and the most delicious smile. She wore light print clothes, short britches, sleeveless top. She was just as much a charmer as any other girl.
The command to "undress" didn't sit well with either girl, but neither wanted to suffer or bring suffering to others. Susannah was more obliging and obedient than her friend. Susannah slowly stripped off her clothes, wept and carried on, but that was normal and even allowed.
Minn curled up on the floor, holding herself tightly, crying greatly.
Susannah stood in her panties only, trembling. She had peed her panties—but that, too, was a given and very understandable. The girl hugged the brick wall behind her, fearing retribution for Minn's refusal to undress. One of the women (Jolene) squatted down to talk to the frightened Minn.
It took a while, but slowly, the young frightened American-Chinese girl stood, and with the help of Jolene, slipped out of her clothes and stood naked for all to see. She was still in trouble as afterwards she was commanded to "bend over" and take punishment—in the form of a spanking.
There was a nude woman among them who was thought to be just another victim—Samantha, though, thought otherwise. She kept it to herself 'cause she didn't one hundred percent know for sure. But the woman had the task of spanking Minn, a bare-handed spank that sent everyone jumping with each swat. Young Susannah collapsed to the floor cringing and required a "talk" session from Jolene.
After Minn's ass was blistered tomato red, she and Susannah went to the teen boy, Will. Together they sucked his cock, his balls, and got him extremely hard. Thereafter, Susannah lay on her back with Will holding her left leg, Minn holding her right leg. Young Alex got the task of licking Susannah's pussy, fingering it, then mounting to where he was fucking.
The young girl wasn't too enthused with this venture—it hurt for one. Alex humped slow at first, but then the "feeling" enveloped him, and he struck up humping faster and faster, no longer caring if he was "hurting" the young girl or not.
Alex's mother wasn't pleased with the situation, but accepted it as there was no choice in the matter. On command, she caressed her son's ass and cooed to the young girl. Will didn't particularly care for the situation, either, but had a strong boner going just the same.
When Alex had gone all that he could go, without cumming off, he was replaced by the boys from the other side of the room; Greg, Frank, and Paul. Paul went first, he was sleepy and not too horny. Jolene and Samantha sucked him, fondled his hairless balls, caressed his butt, and brought him to stiff mode. The eight-year-old was awake then. He got onto Susannah and did his thing, lasting about three minutes of intense fucking before pooping out.
Ten-year-old Frank took over, he made the most noise about it—pleasing noises; his pud slipped out several times, and he humped tenaciously onto the girl's quaking quim. Jolene rubbed the boy's butt and helped put his dick back into the trembling girl. Will's cock was ready to explode.
Twelve-year-old Greg's cock was ready to explode, too. He was sucked on by Samantha and young Brenda, and as soon as Frank was done, Greg slid into place and buried his cum squirter into Susannah's cunt. Pre-cum was spilling from Will's cock; his sister sitting on her butt with her arms wrapped tightly about her knees watched him. Will avoided eye contact and waited.
He didn't have to wait long, two minutes. Greg Hinton unloaded a quick shot of pre-teen cum into Susannah's quim in no time at all. There was a minute more of languishing before he crawled off, cock dripping; he shuffled back to the other side of the partition and collapsed.
Holly had the narly ungodly task of coming to Susannah and licking the girl's pussy clean. While she trembled, whimpered, and eventually complied, Jolene licked the girl's ass, her hole, and cunt.Will's cock pulsed, and after Holly's task had been completed, she herself guided Will's missile into Susannah's receptacle.
There was a need to learn more about styles, positions, and a more "hands-on" approach about how to (sexually) please. Young Wendy Cenis was apt to learn as much as she could so as to greatly please her boyfriend, Drake.
Learning what she needed from the textbooks didn't cut it. Nor did the news casts, and word of mouth wasn't so good, either, 'cause half the time she didn't know what the hell they were talking about! She determined that she needed to SEE various "acts" of pleasure so she could learn them and then do them unto Drake. She was sure Drake would like.
She didn't find much luck at the park. Nor at the high school, either on the campus' outer park area or even the parking lot. No luck at the movie theatre, either. The "subjects" of potential interest all merely "held hands," brushed shoulders, and lightly kissed. But Wendy was undeterred and continued her search for needful visual aid.
In the most unlikely place, success! A naked teen girl with a great tan (all over) sucked the cock of a tall blond-haired boy while a dark-haired boy pumped her from behind. The boy being sucked was in high school, he had a red sports car, thick blond curly hair, and a very regal body. He looked the typical surfer and possible "model" material.
Behind the girl, a dark-haired fellow rammed steadily, his hands clamped tightly to her hips. He was a couple inches shorter in height than his blond counterpart. The dark-haired fellow pulled his penis out of the girl, slapped her ass cheeks, and then returned to pumping.
The girl being pumped, Wendy knew, was Leighanne Fauston. She was in the junior high school next to Wendy's elementary school and sometimes came to help out the younger kids in their various projects.
Secretly Wendy spied on the three; the boy in her mouth pulled out his pee-pee, too, slapped it against her face, then returned to being sucked. Leighanne fingered herself, tweaked the nipples of her torpedo-style titties, and seemed to really enjoy what was going on. Wendy took notes (mental) and found herself to be curiously tingling betwixt her legs.
At length, the guy in her mouth came. A great glob of milky white splooge squirted onto her face as well as an inordinate amount in her mouth. The girl choked, slung her head side to side but didn't let go the dick in her mouth—not until the boy had "finished." When he did, he leaned back some and "played" with his tool, grinning and making rude comments.
The boy behind her pulled out his weeny again, and again slapped it against her ass. Leighanne placed her head down onto the floor, ass up, parted a cheek, and wriggled her body. The teen boy grinned and scooted up against her. Both made strange noises. The boy began to pump HARD, the girl wriggled her body some more and made faces.
Soon, the girl turned over, on her back, legs opened wide. The boy laid himself down onto her body and began to fuck. Wendy couldn't see too well and was afraid of moving lest she give away her position. But she heard a lot of noises and wasn't sure if they were of the pleasurable kind or what.
But not wanting to miss something possibly crucial in her understanding sex and such, Wendy scooted down onto the slanted carpeted floor and began scooting herself as quietly as possible under the pews.
Pews? Yep, pews; for you see, the three teens engaged in sex acts were doing so in the sanctity of a sanctuary—a church. The church was a community church, Wendy attended Sunday School at said community church—as did the three teens—especially Leighanne. That was because Leighanne's father was a "father." A priest.
Finally, she had moved to where she could once more see what was going on—and learn. She wasn't sure for certain, though, what it was that she was learning! Leighanne was still on her back, the boy on her face was Paul Glak, he always dressed so well in sporty wear, never a tie. He WAS handsome and sometimes came to church riding a motorcycle. Lots of girls were gaga over him. Wendy thought he was cute, too, but not as cute as her boyfriend, Drake.
The other boy was Tim Havers. He never wore a suit of any kind but dressed well just the same. He drove some sort of red sports car, and girls were gaga over him, too. He was cute and had style, poise, and a big cock. Wendy could see it as she was near directly right behind the pumping boy and could see the member as it slid in and out of Leighanne's pussy. A time or two the cock slipped out; the boy laid it onto the girl's pussy and humped there for a bit before sliding it back into the girl's sex.
Wendy saw Tim's testicles as they cinched up tight and then fell back to some sort of normal mode. There was his ass and everything, too, to gawk at—and she did! Between her legs, she found herself "moist." A fantastical tingling sensation was sensationally sensationalizing her to the point where she had to unzip her pants and slide her hand down to try and quell the feeling.
Didn't work, though, but only made it feel gooder!
Tim got his "nut"; Wendy saw a great river of milky white goo spilling out of the girl's vagina—and there was a lot of it, too. The boy continued pumping; his body arched, sending his pelvis right up against the girl, apparently driving his penis DEEPER into her pussy.
There was a lot of note-taking to commit to memory…
Paul wasn't out of the action, either; while Tim got his, Paul got his! While buddy Tim pumped his finale, Paul nestled himself onto Leighanne's face, the girl engulfed his testicles and began sucking them. It was very apparent to Wendy that Paul liked—a lot! The boy stroked his penis which was again very hard and erect, and then for a mind-blowing blow, Tim went down and began sucking it!
Wendy was perplexed. She was also "wet." But being perplexed won out, and she watched in curious awe as Tim sucked the weeny of Paul. Somehow, though, Wendy didn't think that that was the right thing to do. She had heard strange things about which she knew very little if anything at all. She had heard the word "cock" and knew that it wasn't always referring to a chicken. She had heard the word "suck" and knew that it implied more than just sipping a soda through a straw or to that elusive dilemma describing the perception of "life in general."
Wendy, too, had heard the word "cocksucker" but had no real intuitive notion of what it meant—until seeing Tim SUCKING Paul's COCK. 'Ooooooh!' she cooed to herself. 'Cocksucker.' The word(s) now had more meaning. Tim seemed to like what he was doing, and Paul REALLY liked what he (Paul) was doing. Somehow, though, Wendy still thought it was wrong.
After a few minutes, Paul came. Again. And like unto Leighanne, there was a great anointing of the milky white stuff—how much Wendy didn't know—she couldn't see. But Paul's pecker was out of Tim's mouth and all over the face. Tim's pud was out of Leighanne's cunt, it had shriveled up like a little boy's but still seemed "thick."
Was Wendy's "class instruction" over? Not quite.
Tim and Leighanne lay side by side, kissing. It seemed that Leighanne was licking and sucking the white stuff out of Tim's mouth. Paul stood up and played with his penis, announcing, "I gotta take a piss."
Wendy knew what he referred to. It was a cuss word and unpleasant and meant that the boy had to use the bathroom, to pee. Leighanne and Tim weren't moving, they lay arms and legs akimbo with Tim apparently going to sleep!
Paul shuttled down the slanted walkway to the flat area of the church's sanctuary. The church had three areas of seating, each area had fifteen rows of pews. Each pew could hold approximately fifteen people. The main section, the one in the middle, was twice as big as the ones on the sides.
There was the typical stage area where the preacher preached from and the choir sung from. There were deacons' chairs and guest speakers' chairs, too. All in the hue of blue. Religious sayings were everywhere, icons of this and that, flowers, flags, and so on and so forth like that there.
There, too, was a baptismal. A water trough dead center, inset back and just above the center of the choir. A microphone hung down so as the preacher or dunker could announce who was being "born again." Paul, nakedly, climbed up to the baptismal and began peeing into the water!
Wendy was shocked, awed, and then enlightened. It was a very naughty thing for him to do, and though she thought it was a very nasty thing for him to do and he should be flogged for it, she also found it intriguing and extremely daring. Wendy couldn't wait until Sunday morning regular services to see who was going to get Baptized!
Paul then plopped himself down in one of the choir chairs and began playing with himself, giggling and "getting after it." A moment later and he cracked a cheek and let a narly butt blast go. Wendy, again, found the ordeal horrid and a terrible thing to do in a church, but she was also highly amused.
Paul then went up to the clear plastic-type podium, "And he said 'CUM UNTO ME!'" all the while jerking off reverently. Leighanne and Tim raised up from where they were. Paul continued giving them a "sermon." His Dad was one of the deacons.
"It's the audience that's supposed to be naked, stupid, not the speaker!" chortled his cocksucking pal, Tim.
"Damn, I knew something was wrong!" Paul laughed back at him. Sidestepping, he stepped up to one of the great vases containing an array of fantastic flowers. Leighanne watched in awe as the boy masturbated, jacking off into the flowers.
At first, she thought it was pretty disgusting, then she laughed and came up to the stage to watch more in person. Tim held his weeny over the other vase of flowers and "watered" them.
"Oh my God, that's disgusting!" chirped Leighanne.Paul shrugged, "I just whizzed in your old man's water tank."
Leighann's eyes bulged in awe. "You didn't!" To which Paul nodded with a great smile, finished ejaculating onto the flowers, and conveyed matter-of-factly that he did.
Leighanne wasn't angry, or even revolted, she suddenly burst into a broad grin and stared at the "water tank," contemplating.
Wendy had to scoot under the pews and risked being seen to get a better view of what the naughty trio was doing. By the time she found a good place to see, Leighanne was perched precariously up on the water tank's ledge, facing out to the sanctuary, peeing into the water. Paul and Tim held her in place lest she fall.
After the pee, she climbed down and wiped her cunny on one of the flags. Thereafter, said flag was taken down and laid out on the stage floor. Paul took his turn at laying on the fourteen-year-old and screwing her. Tim, meanwhile, played with himself, getting a terrific hard-on. At length, Paul rolled Leighanne to her side, and buddy Tim laid behind her. Wendy's view was obstructed by the row of flags and her position.
When Wendy once more had sneaked her way where she could see better, she still didn't know what it was exactly she was seeing—both boys seemed to be "doing" Leighanne; Wendy mulled it over in her mind, trying to get a clearer picture. Confounded, she decided to risk extreme exposure by slinking across the space from the pews to the altar and flowers. Around the altar, behind it, and then nestling herself up inside the bevy of flowers to where she COULD see.
And it still didn't make sense. Were the boys having their pee-pees inside Leighanne's vagina at the SAME TIME!? And as if to answer, Leighanne raised her leg and allowed Wendy to see—Wendy could well enough see Paul's penis in Leighanne's cunt; but Tim's penis was in the other hole—her asshole.
'Ewewwew!' Wendy commented to herself. She lightly finger-probed her own asshole, not aware that it was a sexual draw for boys, too. 'I poop from there!' she said to herself. 'Boys are so gross.'
A gardener doing gardening stuff alongside the church frightened and disrupted the naughty trio; they scurried back to where their clothes were, dressed hurriedly, and then fled out of the main sanctuary, leaving Wendy to remain in hiding. She wasn't fearful that the gardener could see her, as the windows were such that prevented an outsider from seeing inside.
The images of the naughty trio filled her head—and then some. She found herself with a severe tingling between her legs, she resisted for a time but eventually undid her short pants and slid them down—along with her panties. Feverishly, she fingered herself into a tizzy until such a time as she called out Drake's name. She found that she had to lay down, work her pants and panties to her ankles, and really get after it. A burning sensation there was to her poon, and she knew that only Drake's pud would satisfy it.
She found, too, that rolling over, poking her butt up like Leighanne had done, and then spanking herself was pleasurable. She wondered casually if she could get Drake to spank her?
Her tummy growled, it was getting late, and if she didn't want to get chewed out for being late for home, she had to scurry. After pulling up her clothes, she gave the baptismal water tank a look. She laughed and then made her way to the side door that was never locked. | null | Chapter 29 - Getting Some | Authors/Bootscooter/AugMoone Bk7 Chptr 29.txt |
112,773 | null | Yvette's Revenge | Yvette had watched the tourist for two weeks while he stayed in the hotel. Every day she went into his room, dusted down the suite of rooms the lone northern gentleman had hired. She picked up his wet towels that he left all over the floor, changed his stained sheets every day without grumbling, knowing at the end of his stay he would leave a generous tip. Departure day came. Yvette went into his room with a faint tingle, the wet towels were strewn across the floor as usual. She skipped lazily across to the bed. As expected, the sheets were thrown back. Something strange lay across them, strings of long clear goo. Stretching a finger, she picked up some and sniffed; the scent was familiar. Without thinking, she extended the tip of her tongue and tasted - slightly salty, but no aftertaste. She sucked her finger clean.
Stripping the bed down to the rubber safety sheets underneath, she left the bedding in a pile on the floor. As she moved across to the table, picking up towels as she went, she looked down to the desk and gasped... empty! She dropped the towels in shock! The bastard had stiffed her. He had waited on him like a slave for two weeks and he hadn't even left a thank you! She felt herself getting madder and madder.
She quickly walked into the bathroom to check the damage. As she walked into the white room, she noticed something small and black in the corner. As she moved towards it, she heard the door go. A loud male voice was speaking "So my meeting today is cancelled? Bugger. Ok, well that's my day free. Now I just need to find my bloody suitcase." It was the hotel guest, Yvette realized with a start. As she peered round the corner, she saw him throw his mobile on the desk, and his suit jacket over the chair in disgust. He started picking stuff off the floor and mumbling to himself. Yvette could make out the tanned muscles from underneath his ironed white shirt. Anger and lust fueled a plan forming in her head. She reached down and picked up one of the short brushes of her cleaning trolley. Sneaking over behind him, she slammed it hard into his back. "Don't move, fucker! This is a gun, put your arms up and lie down on the bed." Shaking, the tall man raised his arms in the air. Yvette marveled at his muscle tone again and pushed him over towards the bed till he was lying face down. Grabbing a discarded pillowcase, she pulled it over his head. Slapping him over the head, she ordered, "Strip." With shaking hands, he rolls over and slides his tie off, undoes his shirt and slides it off. Unbuckling his belt, he slides his pants down; she slaps him again. "Boxers as well." As he slid them down, she got a good look at his package - he had a reasonably sized cock by the looks of it. That would be getting some action today. She reached down, pulled his shoes off and his trousers over his feet, and lastly his socks. Grabbing a sheet, she tied each arm to the bedpost followed by his feet. Smiling down at him, he was truly at her mercy. Licking a finger, she slid it down his cock. Despite his fear, it sprang to life; she moved her hand back and forth, playing with him while deciding what to do. Going to her trolley, she got her feather duster, starting at his shoulders she tickled and traced his muscles round and down. Pausing at his cock, which twitched as she spent a long time sliding up one side and down the other, pushing it between his legs so it caught both his balls and arse. "My turn for a bit of fun," she thought, and pulled up her short shirt over her stockings and took down her wet lace knickers. She stood on the bed astride him, pulled his pillow from over his mouth and lowered her pussy onto him. "Lick me," she barked. Slowly at first, he started lapping; she had to help by reaching between and parting her lips, but soon he got into a rhythm and was hitting her clit at just the right spot. To keep him... entertained, she tickled his cock every now and again with the duster. She could feel her orgasm approaching and pressed down harder, her breathing became erratic, and she rubbed herself against his face to make it quicken. With a cry, her orgasm hit, her copious juices flowed into his mouth; he started coughing and gagging. "See how you like it," she thought. Jumping down the bed till she was next to his cock, she gave his balls a little squeeze just to let him know she was there, then she had an idea... Going to her purse, she pulled out her portable boyfriend. 6 inches long, knobbles and very wide. It was described in the catalog as "The Punisher." She used it when she needed a lift in her day. Grabbing her knickers, she wiped her cum from his face and neck, and as he was saying thank you, she stuffed them into his mouth. Sliding down the bed, she blew gently on his balls and cock, enjoying watching it twitch. Licking her lips, she slid the first part into her mouth and sucked gently; he groaned out loud. "No pleasure without pain," she told him and forcefully shoved a finger up his arse. He jerked on the bed and cried out. Leaving the finger in, she sucked his tip again, this time licking as well gently. As she pulled away, she started sliding the "Punisher" up and down his chest, over his cock, then balls, and between his thighs. Guessing something was up, he started straining at the bonds. "Real men don't need lube," and she pushed as hard as she could. Even with her full strength, she could not manage more than an inch or two. The lace gag did not manage to deaden out all his screams. She leant over and licked his cock from top to bottom, soaking it with her saliva. Taking the end in her mouth, she slid down, relaxing her muscles as she went, taking it all in till her nose was next to his pubic hair. Taking the large dildo, she slid it out slightly, then rammed it back in, hard, moving her head up and down his cock in time with the pounding of the plastic invader. As she felt his balls tighten, she pulled off and grasped the base of his cock, squeezing hard. "No cumming for you yet!!" Swinging one leg over so she was facing his feet, she lifted her knees and slid down over his hard cock. She gasped as it filled her. By just flexing her thing muscles, she was able to slide up and down, his cock rubbing in just the right places, and for extra pleasure, she twisted and turned the knobbled beast sticking out his arse and she pleasured herself. As she got closer, she slid one hand under her work pinny and twisted her nipples, pulling on the piercing, the other hand fingering her puckered arsehole. She wondered if that cute porter from the kitchen would come up later and take her up the arse while she rode her captive. Such sensory overload was too much, and she came hard and fast. Riding him, her spasming pussy accepted the bucket loads of cum he deposited in her. Pulling her knickers from his mouth, she ordered him to lick her clean. His lapping tongue licking the combined juices out of her pussy gave her a mini-orgasm, releasing more fruits of their joining onto his face. Getting up, she adjusted herself. She checked the roster - this room was not to be occupied all weekend. She made up her mind. Wiping his face down, she replaced her knickers in his mouth. Checking the dildo was secure inside him, she turned the vibrate on low. Ignoring his groans, she smoothed her outfit out and packed her trolley; she had another 30 rooms to do today yet! | null | null | Authors/chaos/Yvettes Revenge.txt |
112,940 | sweettrixie | Breathless Encounter | You walk into a party, quiet and unassuming. From across the room, you feel a pair of eyes staring. Her succulent, moist pink lips part in a soft gasp as your eyes meet hers boldly. Her eyes darken as you move slowly towards her. A knowing smile graces your countenance as you see her gracious smile fade into a petulant pout when you stop to speak with a friend. You chuckle to yourself, thinking how easy you could replace that pout. As a hunter feels the excitement of the prey, your body swells, contemplating the myriad of possibilities her body could afford.
Stepping to the bar, you glance casually in her direction, ordering a scotch while mentally planning your possession of her. Each idea more exciting than the last. Sitting carefully upon a bar stool, you turn and watch her over the rim of your glass. Her firm, round breasts heaving, she seems agitated, almost at a loss, as you continue to stare at her body. Moving your eyes down very slowly, in a very blatantly sexual perusal of her curves. You can see her hand tremble upon her glass when you lift yours to her in recognition of her state. She hesitantly begins to walk towards you, her trepidation most evident. But you know she will come.
She brushes down her short skirt absently and combs her trembling hand through her hair, trying desperately to hide her nervousness. As she nears, your body quickens with anticipation. Your eyes lock with hers, and her nipples harden against the silk blouse in reaction to your obvious sexual stare. Your cock hardens as you imagine her cries when you pinch and pull those tender buds.
When she steps within an arm's reach, you take her hand firmly in yours and pull her against your body, trapping her between your powerful thighs. Cupping her quivering chin in your hand, you stare into those eyes. Her breathing becomes heavier, and she bites into her lower lip, those eyes taking on a wild, glazed quality.
Slowly bending your head as though you are about to kiss her, you startle her by turning at the last minute and whispering in her ear. "You are a sweet little whore, aren't you?" you speak softly, your warm breath causing a shiver to run through her body. Giving her no chance to reply, your hand slides up her skirt. She draws a sharp gasp to protest, but at that exact moment, she lets out a soft moan. You knew she would have no panties on, and your hand parts her tender pussy lips. Nibbling softly on her ear, your finger finds her swollen clit and rubs it slowly.
"Oh yes, you are a delectable whore. I want you," you whisper hot and nasty to her. Your finger strokes her moist and warm clit a little harder. "Come with me!" you order. Removing your hand, you slide your wet finger to her lips. Your throbbing cock straining as she eagerly sucks the sweet nectar from your finger. Grabbing her arm as you stand, you lead her from the room. Finding an open door, you drag her into a small linen closet, locking the door behind you. The room is dimly lit, the only source of light coming from the small window in the door.
She backs up against a linen cart against the back wall, licking her lips nervously. An evil smile spreads over your face as you walk to her. You grab her hands and hold them over her head, as your hands roam over her breasts. Her face contorts with pleasure when your fingers brush over the hardened nipples. You pinch one very hard, smiling with her gasp and moan. Then the other much harder, your cock throbbing painfully as tears spring to her eyes. Your feet kick her legs apart, and your hand lifts her skirt to find her pussy sopping wet.
"My, my, sweet whore, you are very wet," you whisper, and at the same time, slam three fingers into her hot, dripping pussy. Once, twice, three times you thrust your fingers hard into her. She closes her eyes, moaning wildly. Catching her off guard, you quickly pull your fingers from her, whirl her around, and bringing her arms down under her body as you push her down over the linen cart. Her hips begin to rock slightly back against your leg, silently communicating to you what she wants. But you have other ideas.
You pull up her skirt and slide your free hand over her curvaceous ass cheeks. Your elbow against her back to keep her pinned to the cart. She wiggles her hips with a soft whimper, urging you to take her. Suddenly, your hand comes down hard twice on each ass cheek. SMACKKKKK! SMACKKKKK! SMACKKKKK! SMACKKKKK! Her eyes tear, the sting making her yelp like a helpless puppy. You unzip your pants and pull out your hard, swollen cock. Rubbing it against her ass cheeks, then slipping it between her legs to rub up and down across her throbbing clit.
She cries out for you to take her, and of course, being a gentleman, you comply. Pinning her shoulders to the cart, you slide your cock up and poke it against her tight asshole. "NOOOOOOOOO," she cries as she realizes what you intend. She fights and struggles ineffectively against your strength, heightening your senses. She screams as your cock slams up to invade and stretch that very tight little hole. Pushing deeper, forcing the tender flesh to part for your angry cock, your hand pushing her head down into the sheets. Silencing her screams to the outside world but not to you. Each grunt and moan of pain brings you to greater excitement. Finally, with one mighty, painful thrust, you bury your cock deep inside her tight ass. Looking down, your lust fueled by the sight of her asshole violated by your cock.
"Your tight little ass is mine, whore," you moan as you begin to thrust in and out of her ass. You can feel her body tremble and begin to relax, but her muscles remain tightly wrapped around your cock. Her cries muffled as you work your cock faster and harder into her ass.
Leaning your weight on her back, you slam hard and deep, and hold it there as one hand reaches under her to find her vulnerable clit. Again, you lift your body, pulling your cock all the way out of her ass, a finger flicking her clit. Grasping it between two fingers, you begin to squeeze. Simultaneously plunging deeply into her ass. Her screams now come in earnest but with a different tone. Her hips now lift and move with yours. Harder and faster, you rip your cock in and out of her ass. Now you can feel her muscles tightening and milking your cock. Raping her ass with a force and brutality you have never felt before, but her body becomes more and more excited. Your fingers pinching her clit are drenched in her sweet juice.
You pull her hair, wrenching her head back to look at you. You can see the wild lust in her eyes. "You fucking slut! Do you deserve my cum??" you yank harder, with her moan, "YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS," she cries out, thrusting her hips back against your cock as you pound into her soft body, with an animalistic growl of pleasure as your balls tighten.
Ripping your cock from her ass, you spin her around, pushing her roughly to her knees, and forcing your cock down her throat. Grabbing her hair and thrusting, fucking her mouth. "Drink it, Bitch!" you order with a low grunt and growl. Slamming your cock down to the bottom, your hot, sweet cum exploding against the back of her throat. Her body trembles and quivers as she swallows every sweet, tasty drop. Slowly, lovingly, her mouth and tongue clean your cock.
You take a gulp of air and pull your cock from her mouth. Your body still shaking with the force of your orgasm, you throw her body up against the table, lift her legs, and order "CUM FOR ME NOW, BITCH," diving your face into her pussy and sucking hard on her clit. Within seconds, her body tenses and arches against your face. A low, hoarse moan erupts from her body, and her sweet cum floods your face. You begin slurping up the sweet juice, her body thrashing around and trembling with the power of her orgasm.
Lifting your head and smiling as her tremors still, "my sweet little whore." Reaching up to stroke her hair softly, "You have pleased me greatly," pulling her into your arms, "my sweet slave."
With an exhausted but satisfied smile, she wraps her arms around your waist and whispers in your ear, "Thank you, Master."
- the end - | null | null | Authors/sweettrixie/BreathlessEncounter.txt |
112,963 | Wife and I help an injured old Sri Lankan worker (part II) | Yesterday was a disaster. The old Sri Lankan worker had left the painting work unfinished and, worse, he had accidentally left a gallon of his smelly sperm inside my sweet wife's meaty and fertile pussy.
My generous and gentle wife had asked him to bring some more workers today so that they could finish the work fast. It was Sunday morning, and we were sleeping late when the doorbell woke us up. Grumbling and muttering under her breath, my wife hauled herself up, giving me a dirty look. "Asshole, the least you can do is make me a cup of tea while I attend to the door. Huh, useless!" And she stormed to the door. Poor thing didn't even realize that she was still not wearing any panty or bra and that her robe was clasped with only one tiny flimsy button in the front. Probably she wasn't wearing her contact lenses yet.
I too hauled myself up to prepare her tea. On the way to the kitchen, I noticed that it was yesterday's Sri Lankan worker. Good, he had come in early to finish what he started, I thought. I was also glad to see three other workers with him. Although they looked more like beggars than workers. Really old, skinny and bony -- and jet black. Their tousled hair looked like they hadn't showered in ages. Even from five meters away, I could smell their sweaty musk. They were dressed just like Sugantha, the worker who accidentally fucked my wife yesterday as she was helping him when he got injured. They were only wearing threadbare sarongs and nothing else. They huddled around my wife, who was a bit perplexed at this attention as I stepped in the kitchen.
I came out in five minutes with five cups of tea - I thought it better to make tea for the workers before they start their grueling work. They were seated in the living room. Probably they didn't want to dirty all the chairs, so all of them had kindly squeezed in on the big sofa. My wife was sandwiched between them. As I offered the workers tea, the older one said in a wheezy, phlegmy voice, "I only drink arrack." "Me too, me too," the others chorused behind him. I was shocked that they started drinking alcohol at 10 in the morning. But my wife barked, "Just give them what they want -- so they can start work fast, man." Knowing how innocent my wife really is, she probably didn't know what arrack was.
Anyway, I went back, and Sugantha followed me. He took the bottle of my finest whiskies and poured four tall glasses to the brim. Then he called his co-workers. They gulped the drinks down like it was water and then helped themselves to second rounds. Sugantha then led them back to the living room. My wife was sipping her tea, and it was some sight to see her hairy pussy, still matted with yesterday's fucking, peeking from her parted robe. The old workers whispered among themselves and laughed lewdly.
Seeing that they were ready, my wife put the cup down and led them to the attic where the supplies were. Sugantha held the ladder as my wife climbed up to show them. The three other barbarian workers huddled close to take sneak peeks at my wife's furry pussy matted with dried cum from Sugantha's animal cock yesterday. They really must not have showered for a long time because all of them were scratching and groping their groins repeatedly.
Anyway, somehow my wife managed to pull the paint tin and was passing it to Sugantha below when she accidentally lost her balance. I rushed to help her, but the old Sri Lankans had already surrounded my wife gallantly. Somehow - although it seemed very secure to me - the ladder tripped, and my wife fell backwards. Although Sugantha caught her effortlessly, her robe got stuck in a nail in the ladder and ripped right in the center from the back; and though that was okay, the paint can fell on the Burunda, another old worker. It landed on his knee, and he screamed in pain. So while Sugantha laid my wife on the floor with help from another worker, my wife shouted for me to attend to Burunda - the injured old Sri Lankan worker.
Satisfied that Sugantha will reciprocate all the tender care that my wife had administered on him yesterday, I attended to Burunda. The poor chap had some bruises and cuts because of the sharp edge of the can, but he seemed shocked.
"Don't just stare at him like a moron, go and get a wet cloth and clean his wounds gently. Can't do anything, you!" my wife shouted at me, her voice laced with concern for the old Sri Lankan worker. Burunda was older than Sugantha, and although he did seem a bit dirty, his skin was a healthy shiny black as discovered while wiping him. I turned to see the state of my wife. Sugantha and his friend had kindly removed the tattered robe completely and had laid her on the wooden floor sideways, her face to the wall away from all of us. They were gently massaging her back right from her shoulder down till her ass. Their black veined hands looked very firm as they moved up and down. I was just very thankful to them that all three of them (except Burunda with me) were helping my wife. I shuddered thinking what would have happened if it was just me handling this and then turned to Burunda - who was slowly moaning under my expert touch as I was being very gentle in the wiping.
I heard Sugantha asking for some cream to rub on my wife's back, but I was at a loss of any suggestions without my wife's orders. Not able to wait any longer, Sugantha put his old mind to work and suggested to one of his mates to produce some body-ointment. His friend stood up quickly and pulled his sarong up to haul a mean-looking horsemeat cock. I was shocked to see his thing - so big, so thick and so ugly, big fat veins were protruding everywhere, and it looked like an alien. But the worker was not embarrassed or anything. It looked like he was hell-bent on helping my wife and rubbed his magnificent - I mean - his mean black cock furiously until a steady stream of pre-fuck juices started flowing. He slowed down and started dripping his copious pre-cum all over my wife's creamy white and supple back. He dripped all over, and his friends massaged his sticky gooey pre-cum into my wife's skin. Soon it was all shiny.
Then my wife moaned as if in pain. I got up to be at her side, but not before Burunda, now completely recovered from his own pain, reached in front of her and held her shoulders and slowly started rubbing them. In his hurry to help the wife of the man who had helped him, poor Burunda forgot to pull his Sarong up, and his uncut black Sri Lankan cock hung between his squatted legs like a sleeping snake. Actually, it looked like it was not sleeping, because it jerked up and down in front of my wife's sweet face. Luckily, she was not wearing her contact lenses and probably didn't notice the thick appendage lying dangerously close to her mouth, as she considers sucking a penis a very dirty habit and has never put mine in her mouth. But the smell - oh, I really don't know how she could bear that smell. That overpowering smell sometimes I encounter in rest rooms in parks and sometimes even in steam rooms of my gym. I remember once I stepped on something very slimy and gooey and thick and creamy, and when I scooped it and smelled it, it smelled just like that.
Anyway, my wife moaned some more, and Sugantha and his two friends started massaging her back harder. Come to think of it, they were sort of scratching, mauling and groping my wife more than plain rubbing, but that was probably some Sri Lankan exotic massage because my wife's moans were not moans of pain but of pleasure, so I didn't interrupt. I saw Sugantha mumble something to his second friend, and the old man smiled and nodded. While he was repositioning himself, I saw that Burunda's fat black cock had accidentally "kissed" my wife's lips. Since she was going to moan, her lips were parted, and just after kissing my wife's lips, Burunda's cock jerked a little and accidentally entered her mouth. I was worried she would spit Burunda's smelly cock out, but she must have been in deep pain as she didn't say a word. In fact, her mouth opened slightly, and more of Burunda's cock went inside. Burunda was too busy massaging her shoulders and probably didn't even notice that his cock was somehow in my wife's mouth. He was pushing more and more on my wife's shoulders, and as a result, his cock was automatically going in and out of my wife's mouth. I was surprised to see that his cock was almost all the way in when he accidentally pushed it in - all of his 10 fat inches. I was really proud of my wife's large mouth. And her increasing prowess in sucking finally.
While I was busy watching Burunda's massage of my wife's shoulders and tonsils, I almost forgot to observe the other three. Sugantha had turned my wife's ass towards the wall so that although Burunda still had easy access to her shoulders and well - mouth, her ass was lying straight.Sugantha asked his friend to rub the inside of her thighs, but I was a bit taken aback when his friend started rubbing the inside of my wife's meaty thighs with his massive cock rather than his hand. I guess it was a lot easier to massage directly with the cock and ensure the lubrication rather than producing the lubrication with the cock and then rubbing it with your hand. It made such simple sense, so I smiled when the third Sri Lankan worker looked at me while he pushed his ugly and smelly cock into my wife's inner thighs. If I'm not wrong, she screamed at the top of her lungs when this happened, but her scream was muffled around Burunda's cock in her mouth. And soon that one scream turned into multiple pleasure moans.
Sugantha looked at me and said, "Her pussy hurt in the accident. We must massage it from inside." I nodded at him, relieved that he was there. If it was just me, I wouldn't even have noticed that her pussy was hurt. Anyway, I went close to learn how to massage a hurt pussy effectively using only a cock and saw that actually from his angle, the third Sri Lankan old worker could see my wife's puffed, meaty pussy clearly. It was actually winking at him, sort of invitingly, to enter her, and he obliged. Each time he rubbed her inner thighs, the pussy winked at him, and he plunged inside. I was surprised that he had not released his sperm even after ten minutes because I am a fast man and can't wait so long - I usually release my sperm within a minute or two.
I should have waited before thinking about his staying powers because the moment I thought about it, he came deep inside my wife's meaty pussy. Then, squeezing the root of his aboriginal cock, he squeezed every single sperm inside his balls and emptied it in my wife's potent pussy. Once he was done, Sugantha smiled at me and sent the fourth friend to my wife's empty bottom. The fourth worker was the smelliest one. His long cock, almost 10-inches, was as thick as my wrist, and I briefly wondered whether my wife could take the massage in her hurt pussy with such a big, bad black cock. The thought disappeared from my mind as fast as it had appeared there because, before the thought ended, that big, bad black cock (BBBC) was buried to the root in my wife's hurt pussy.
BBBC was now massaging my wife's hurt pussy frantically. I think BBBC was worried that if he took his own sweet time, my wife's hurt pussy could be damaged beyond repair, and that was unthinkable. I think all this massaging of her hurt pussy must have been good because finally, I saw some movement in her otherwise lifeless body. So far, she had only moved her head slightly to suck Burunda's cock, but now she was even moving her pelvis to accept BBBC's cock massage in her hurt pussy. Upon close inspection (very close, just about two or three inches from the joint of their massaging genitalia), I saw how effectively BBBC was massaging her pussy. It was an angry purple in color, and it was coated with some white fluffy froth. It did smell divine, and I felt like having a lick, but I stopped myself. What would these four gentle workers think? Here they were trying their best to revive my hurt wife, and all I could think was my pleasure! I admonished myself and started watching them help my wife.
BBBC must have been at the edge of his helping stamina, for as he saw Burunda's erupt his healing man-cream from his man-cock in my wife's mouth, he released his own old, stale but potent Sri Lankan baby-making-yet-soothing hot sperm-cream in my wife's hurt, but hairy and meaty pussy. He was so tired by his efforts that he collapsed on my wife's glistening-in-sweat body and lay there for about five minutes. It was good, as this gave her the much-needed rest from all that massaging movement from both the black cocks in her mouth and the pussy, and she could concentrate on dissolving the sperm-cream in her mouth and absorbing the potent cum-cream in her hurt pussy.
Then Sugantha pushed them all away. He asked me gently but firmly to clean up my wife's hurt holes. When I asked him why, the rather thin, lanky and frail man slapped me so hard that I saw stars in front of my eyes. Although I am much bigger (of course, only in height and weight, as his cock is definitely much, much bigger and fatter than mine), I suddenly felt very scared of him. So I started for the kitchen to get a wet cloth, only to get another hard slap from the old Sri Lankan worker. He pushed me down on my knees and made me lick all their soothing sperm-cream from my wife's hurt pussy and hurt mouth (I guess her mouth must also be hurt, that's why they massaged it!).
Once she was sparkling clean, Sugantha gently lay on top of her and inserted his magnificent aboriginal cock in her meaty, puffed and hurt pussy. He was a true healer as he massaged her pussy very gently. But that gentleness only lasted ten minutes, after which he turned into a hidden beast and clawed at my wife like an animal (in heat), and his gentle massaging of her hurt pussy seemed so violent and frantic that I thought, rather than healing her pussy, he might actually hurt her more. But whatever my wife was suffering from, whatever internal injuries she had, must have felt better with this violent massage because she was flailing her arms wildly and muttering nonsensical words like "goddamnit," "go soldier go," "carry on, bastard," "lash on me," "tear me up," "fill it in," "fill it in," "give me your old spooge" (I wonder what's spooge) and so on.
So Sugantha gave her whatever she was asking him, and the moment he gave her his soothing sperm-cream, she leaped up in the air, arching her back and curling her toes and sighing loudly, then collapsed in a heap under Sugantha's black, naked body.
Then I realized that it was already nearing 2 pm, and we hadn't even started any work. I picked up my suddenly silent, naked wife (normally, she's only cursing me) to bring her to my room, but Sugantha and Burunda took over from me. BBBC told me sternly, "Start painting the house. She still needs some more massage." Needless to say, I had to finish the house painting by myself, but I didn't mind, as the four ugly but really headstrong Sri Lankan black workers were rather busy massaging my hurt wife in my bedroom. I finished the painting in a week, and till then, I was not allowed in the healing room, aka my former bedroom.
They were so good, the four of them, that my wife invited them to stay with us forever. Now the house rules have changed, and no one in the house wears any clothes. Even when the four "healers" invite their bedraggled, ugly and smelly beggar and worker friends to our house every weekend for a feast. My job is to clean every smelly new "healer's" healing equipment - and all of them have heavy-duty equipment, mostly jet-black, mean-looking and uncut. I tell you, it's a tough job, but to avoid the sarcasm in my wife's voice and to stop her from cursing me every hour, it's easy. Plus, I am now hooked to the taste of the sperm-cream sucked straight from the healing equipment or from the forever hurt pussy of my wife.
The end. | null | Part II | Authors/wife_me_and_cocks/Wife and I help an injured old Sri Lankan worker (part II).txt |
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113,008 | My wife's pussy - a party for all cocks | Yesterday, my wife and I went to a party. Rajeev, a colleague of mine, had invited us for his housewarming party. It was a happening party, and there were about 90 people in attendance. Since my office is only a close-knit small affair, most of these people were Rajeev's personal friends. Since my wife and I didn't know most of the guests, we were mostly together. I had drunk a lot and was feeling a bit drunk, so most of the time, I was leaning against a pillar in the far corner of Rajeev's huge mansion-like house.
Every once in a while, someone would approach us for small talk. I realized people were coming to us only because of my wife. She was wearing an almost transparent saree with only a choli which had no shoulder straps. It was just like a cloth that was tied behind her back in a knot. Finally, one of the guys, seeing that I was slurring and slumping and assuming I was too gone to notice anything, asked her for a dance. She looked at me, and I said, "Go ahead, darling, have a dance with him."
She too was a bit drunk, otherwise, she could have never had the courage to dance with another man. She accepted and was led by the man to the dance floor. The man was in his 40s, with a huge belly and half his hair were balding. His face was a criss-cross of pockmarks, and he looked quite repulsive. On the dance floor, they started dancing like they knew each other very well. At times, I even saw his hands squeezing her ample ass...and once I saw his hands almost in the crack of her ass over the saree.
She came back all flushed, and he came back with her. He got me a drink and started chatting with her like I was not even present. He pushed her in the corner and stood with both his hands on the walls with my wife positioned right in between. He was very close to her, and at times, I could see that my wife's big boobs were rubbing against his massive chest. Then he dropped one of his hands on her shoulders and slowly inched his way down to her breasts. In no time, he was massaging her breast right there in front of anyone who looked our way.
Just then, he was joined by one of his friends, a jet-black man with red eyes and hands like big paws. He pushed me aside and stood by my wife. He positioned his hand around her waist and asked her if she wanted to dance. She said yes, and then he started gyrating his crotch against her saree-covered pussy right there. He placed both his hands on her boobs and started thrusting his crotch as if he was fucking her pussy. The other man stood behind her and started rubbing her body from behind.
We were standing in the shadows away from others...in front of French windows. One of the men opened the French window, and they sneaked out - all three of them sandwiched in front and behind my sexy, slutty wife. I followed them. Once outside, the black man started thrusting his long, snake-like tongue in my wife's pretty mouth. The man behind started nibbling her ears. While dancing, the man behind pulled her saree up, and my wife's panty-clad pussy and big-sized ass were visible to anyone passing by on the balcony.
Slowly, the man behind pulled her panty down and started fingering her asshole with his big, fat fingers. My wife was now in ecstasy and was grinding her ass hard on his fingers. The man in front had taken out his cock from his pants, and his ugly, black cock was visible in the moonlight. It looked like 10 inches long and about 5 inches thick. The cock head was covered with thick, loose foreskin. His cock was resting on my wife's pussy, which was partially covered by panties. The front man then ripped her panties and threw them in my face. The panty was wet with his pre-cum and landed in my open mouth.
He lined his cock along my wife's pouty pussy lips and pushed the head inside...the pussy was so wet that it opened up like a buttered loaf to accommodate that huge, black, uncut cock. The man behind also lined up his cock against her asshole bareback and pushed it inside in one jerk. My wife screamed, but the black man covered her mouth with his own. Soon, both the unsavory men were fucking my wife from both her ends. It was not a soft, slow lovemaking. It was brutal fucking of a pussy in heat. Within minutes, both the men unloaded their potent, baby-making sperms inside my wife's fertile pussy. Once they had come, they just left my wife and went inside.
My wife hurriedly rearranged her clothing and looked around. I quickly hid behind some plants so she didn't notice me. She then returned inside, and I followed her after a few minutes.
I couldn't find her at first. But then I saw her at the bar counter talking to the barmen. There were three barmen, and they were not very busy right now. I saw one of them point her to the corner, where she walked, and the barman immediately opened the door to the bar for her to enter. Then, I knew she was inside the bar, but I couldn't see her. I walked all the way along the wall of the bar and saw one door which was probably for the delivery or to the store...the door was open, and I easily walked inside. I stood at the corner and clearly saw that my slut wife was not satisfied with the two cocks she had already got and was sitting inside the hollow of the bar, sucking the three black Sri Lankan barmen's cocks one by one. They were happily feeding her their thick, veiny, uncut brown cocks as she sucked them expertly. One by one, she emptied their balls and drank all their sperm down to the last drop. Once finished, she moved in my direction.
I had to duck behind a beer barrel to hide from her. But she walked, swaying her big ass from side to side. As she walked behind, two waiters - Nepali, I think, came in to empty their trays. But as she saw them, she just pulled her saree up to show them her bare pussy still dripping with the earlier fucking. The Nepali waiters immediately pounced on her and started fucking her vigorously with their hard cocks. One was fucking her well-lubed pussy, and one had shoved his hard cock in her mouth. Within minutes, they were done, and they packed their shrinking cocks back in their waiter uniform pants and left.
She just lay there for a while and then got up and started to go out. Outside, Rajeev was seeing some of his friends off, and the moment he saw her, he must have guessed her condition. He plucked her in his arms and made her sit down on the bench. He stood by her side with one foot on the bench, and he then removed his cock from his pants and smeared its uncut head on her lusty, cock-hungry mouth. Her tongue licked the tip of his cock and started sucking his turgid fuck-rod. He was fucking her mouth like a pussy, and within minutes, added his sperm to the other loads in her stomach. After he was done, he kicked her aside like a whore and went inside.
I thought it was enough and dragged my wife outside the house, waiting for a taxi. Rajeev's security guard said that I could let my wife sit in his guard room and get the taxi for her. When I returned with the taxi, I asked the driver to help me get my wife in the taxi. When the driver and I went to the guard's room to get my wife, the driver got shocked (and so did I, pleasantly though) to see that my wife - now completely drunk - was slumped on the dirty floor, and the guard, a swarthy old man with reeking clothes and a cock that could put a horse to shame...was pounding my wife's hairy pussy like crazy. He didn't stop upon seeing us but increased the speed of his forceful thrusts and emptied his copious load of cream into my wife's fertile pussy. When he pulled out his monstrously thick and long cock, my wife's empty pussy clenched and unclenched uncontrollably...making the driver horny as well.
"I would have fucked her," he said, rubbing his swollen cock, "but her choot is too messy now, and I will not feel anything." His cock was also uncut and about nine inches...as he pulled the foreskin up, I could see that he had not cleaned it for a while, and the cock cheese under the skin was thick, and I would smell its musk even when standing. The guard, as if reading my mind, pushed my head down to my wife's funky pussy and forced me to suck his freshly deposited cum - the taste was overwhelming...but really nice, and I loved the taste of her freshly fucked pussy and lapped out all the cum deposited there by so many men.
Once I was done, the driver climbed on top of my wife and dipped his cock in her honey pot and started fucking her maliciously. I was still sitting there on the floor watching the action from close quarters when the security guard slapped my face with his half-hard, massive cock and, before I could say anything, he shoved its apple-sized head in my mouth and said, "Behanchod, gandu, now suck my cock clean too." I loved it!
The End. | null | null | Authors/wife_me_and_cocks/My wife's pussy - a party for all cocks.txt |
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113,209 | theGreatxIam | Thanks for the Memories | You've just stood for five minutes in a cafeteria line to get today's version of an allegedly healthy meal -- wilted brown lettuce and tuna that came from a fish tossed onto the boat by its picky peers because it lacked taste. That and a lukewarm cola from the don't-call-it-Coke machine are going to set you back $4.50, if the unsmiling mouthbreather at the cash register ever finishes her interrogation. "That all? For here or to go? Cash, charge or on account?" On account of you're driving me crazy, you want to say, but you just tell her "cash," since the $10 bill in your hand apparently isn't enough of a clue. She plucks it away, slides it into a cubby in the cash drawer, and counts out your change, just like they taught her: four-fifty, five, ten, twenty.
What do you do?
Come on, quickly! The guy behind you in line is already shoving his tray full of carbohydrates forward.
Do you rush away from the cashier as quickly as you can, trying to decide whether to spend your extra $10 on the Lotto or a few beers tonight?
Do you sidle away cautiously, trying desperately not to attract attention, rehearsing the pose of astonished innocence you'll adopt if the cashier catches her error and calls you back?
Or do you hold up the line while you try to give back the extra cash, even if it means explaining it twice, slowly, in little words, before the cashier understands and accepts the money with no thanks and perhaps even a hint of suspicion in her glance?
That last one is me, every time. I can't help it; I was raised that way.
Being honest and polite in today's society sometimes feels like the whole world's a set of biker's leathers and you're a pair of oxblood wingtips. Refuse to join your fellow students in cheating on a test and you become a social outcast. Try to hold open a door for someone, man, woman, or child, and you get tangled in a jerky waltz of feints and sidesteps; they're waiting for you to swoop in front of them. Allow a pregnant woman juggling a gallon of milk, a box of Frosted Flakes, two apples and a peach to cut in front of you and the woman behind you interrupts her cellphone conversation long enough to drive her full-to-the-brim cart into your ankle in spite.
Bottom line? It doesn't pay to be polite today. But that's not the point, is it? You're not supposed to be polite so you can earn a reward, at least not in this world. You're courteous because it's the right thing to do; you're polite because that's how you'd want other people to treat you; you're honest because to lie is a sin. You don't get anything in return.
Well, usually you don't.
That's how last Wednesday started out.
I was slow to get out of bed because I'd been up late the night before instant-messaging and e-mailing my nephew Pete, who had a term paper due on the Napoleonic Wars. As the only one of my family -- two brothers, two sisters -- who's childless and single, I'm the one who gets called on for all late-night emergencies. I'm not quite sure if that's simply because my siblings figure I have no social life or some subtle form of revenge because I do. In this case, I couldn't complain much about the logic. I was a history major for two years before I switched to business when I decided I had gotten too attached to eating regularly. My brother is the mechanical one, and my sister-in-law -- well, suffice it to say that with her education, the sum total of her knowledge of the Napoleonic Wars comes from being able to sing the chorus of Abba's "Waterloo" verbatim.
So I was the lucky pup who got to stay up all night electronically coaching Pete through his paper. He kept asking if I couldn't just tell him what to write. Instead, I directed him to several good Web sites, told him to send me an outline, rough drafts, the whole "give a man a fish-teach him to fish" routine.
Sometime around 2 a.m. Pete informed me he was finished -- a surprise, because I hadn't even seen a full first draft. That's when he told me he'd also been IM'ing some of his classmates and they'd sent him to a term paper site where he'd bought a B+ paper with his mom's credit card. He signed off without even a thank-you. Like I said, you don't get anything in return.
I'd finally gotten to sleep sometime around 3, so when my alarm clock clanged at 6 I just punched it off and rolled over -- for a few more minutes, I told myself.
It was 6:45 before I peeled my eyes open again. So much for having a leisurely breakfast, which is how I like to start my day. So much for having any breakfast, in fact. I raced through my morning ablutions and was almost back on schedule when I heard the first crack of thunder. I spent 15 minutes searching for my umbrella before I remembered that I'd loaned it to my cubicle neighbor for his lunchtime dash to the coffee shop three days ago and he never gave it back. Never gave me the change from my double tall latte either, it occurred to me.
Oh, well. At least I'd have the morning paper outside my apartment door. I prefer to read it on the train, so I always leave it outside until I leave. Today it could be an impromptu bumbershoot.
But... no paper. Not the first time that had happened. I suspected the woman two floors up whom I'd caught a couple of times peeking out of the elevator when it had mysteriously stopped on my floor before I could get to press the button. Our floor was an obvious target for paper snatchers because there were four of us who all got home delivery. In fact, I noticed, 6-C hadn't retrieved his paper yet.
I admit I hesitated, but only for a second. It just wouldn't be right.
I was already running late, so I couldn't wait for the storm to pass. I was resigned to getting soaked. But by the time I got to the lobby, it looked as if it were letting up a little. The doorman offered a cab, but I gestured to pass it on to a woman who I'd passed in the lobby wrestling with an umbrella. The doorman had barely gotten the cab door open when the woman shot past me, throwing her umbrella and a paper into the car and jumping in after them. As the cab drove away, splashing my slacks, I got a look at her face.
It was the paper snatcher.
Ah, well. It wasn't raining that hard. And I only had six blocks to the subway station. I started to hoof it.
Halfway there, it began to pour. I quickly had water streaming down my face. Ducking under the narrow overhang of a newsstand, I bought a paper. I only had a $5 bill. The guy gave me change, mostly in pennies. As I raised the paper over me and stepped away, I noticed he'd given me 3 cents too many. Two other guys were lined up to buy papers so I stepped around them to hand back the pennies. As I did, I felt something cold on my foot and looked down. The puddle was at least four inches deep.
I squished and squooshed the rest of the way. By now I was so far behind my schedule that I'd run smack into rush hour. I had to wait for three trains before I could even squeeze onto one, what with people pushing past me.
Let me make this clear: I get up so early -- normally -- because I am not a sardine and I don't like being treated like one. My usual subway ride is a calm, if jolting, trundle. I can always get a seat -- indeed, I usually have enough room to spread out my paper without disturbing anyone next to me.
Not so on this morning. The subway car was jammed full of damp humanity. I could barely move, but with some effort and many apologies I began to ease away from the doors and toward the center of the car like the signs tell you to do.
And then it appeared. An empty seat, right in front of me. I swear an angelic choir sent forth a hosanna. I was wet from head to toe -- well, at least my right foot's toes -- I had no newspaper and I was going to be late for work. But at least I had a seat.
I dove down into it. Bliss on a metal frame was that cracked orange Naugahyde. I closed my eyes for a moment to savor the feeling.
When I opened them, there, right in front of me, was a little old lady.
Dried-apple face. Babushka. Mesh shopping bag. Black socks and sandals. The whole nine yards.
My backside tried to burrow down into the seat but my soul pulled me to my feet.
At the same moment, a woman across the aisle also got up. We bumped elbows as we both gestured the old woman to our respective seats. She looked us both over as if we were escaped lunatics. I guess I looked the part more, bedraggled as I was. The other woman had evidently had benefit of an umbrella for her trip to the train. Her blonde hair, which fell straight back halfway down her pin-striped blue jacket, was shiny and dry. No drops of water on the tip of her aquiline nose or the tops of her rosy cheeks, nothing to distract your attention from her startlingly blue eyes.Whether it was appearances or the fact that my abandoned spot now had a puddle in the seat, the old woman picked the other offering.
As we shuffled around, I then offered my seat to the polite young -- 30ish, I'd say -- woman. She declined. I insisted. She demurred. We could have gone on with this Alphonse and Gaston act for quite a while, but she pointed out it had become moot. Some crew-cut in a Raiders T-shirt had slid behind and taken my seat.
"I'm sorry," she said. "It's my fault."
"No, no, not at all, miss."
"Call me Diane."
"No, Diane, it wasn't your fault. If anyone's to blame it's..." I indicated with a sideways glance the Raiders fan.
Diane smiled. "Some people can be so rude, can't they? It's a joy to find someone else who'd actually give up his seat... I'm sorry, I didn't get your name."
I told her. We chatted a bit until the noise level made intelligent conversation impossible. By then we'd been buffeted by the jostling crowd. I had backed up against a pole at the side of one bench seat in an attempt to give Diane a little breathing room, but the car got even more jammed and she was forced right up against me. We both started to apologize. Then we both indicated the other should go first. But that part was communicated only by eyes, for a further stuffing of our already over-full car had pressed her flat against me.
Well, flat isn't the right word, for there wasn't a flat spot on Diane. She was all curves, and lush ones at that, as I was now finding out in the flesh.
Her breasts -- as large as any in Playboy, I could see by a discreet peek down her bright yellow silk blouse (and here I hasten to add that I've only seen those breasts on the cover, of course) -- her breasts were squashed into me. By the feel of it -- of them -- they were even erect. Or so I surmised by the fact that it seemed as if two pencil erasers were being pressed into my chest.
Her stomach curved away and lost contact with me, but from her, um, pelvis down she was in very definite contact. So much so, in fact, that I feared she couldn't help but notice that my body had -- entirely without my brain's permission, I assure you -- responded to her. At length, if you get my drift.
Alas, drift is just what I did, sliding back and forth across Diane's front as the train jolted into movement. Her eyebrows rose; there was no doubt she had noticed my embarrassing state. Not that it would have been easy to miss it anyway, with my now fully erect penis forming a large bulge in the front of my trousers pressing directly on her.
In any event, I had to apologize, and I did, couching it in vague terms to spare her further embarrassment herself. But she smiled and said it was no bother. In fact, she leaned forward and whispered it in my ear: "Don't worry. I'll take care of it."
I had no time to wonder what that meant, for no sooner spoken than I felt a fumbling at my zipper and it slid down; a groping against the fly of my underwear and my member was loose. Well, as loose as it could be, trapped between us. Diane's soft hand stroked the stalk while the tip enjoyed the tantalizingly slight roughness of the weave of her suit's skirt.
"Oh," I said. "Indeed. I'm afraid you have the advantage of me, Diane."
She smiled again and put her other hand down between us. Soon her skirt front was bunched up and the head of my penis was rubbing against smooth silk. To be followed in short order by my hand, as I returned the favor she had granted me.
While she continued to minister to my member, aided now by the lubrication of some pre-cum that had leaked out, I returned the favor she had granted me. Palming the front of her panties, I cupped my hand and began to squeeze gently and rhythmically. In short order I felt the heat rise and a dampness. I slid up her smooth stomach and slipped down inside her panties, inching through the curly hairs until I reached the mother lode.
All this, let me remind you, was on a subway car packed to the gills with passengers. The privacy of the crowd, that was: Everyone was trying so carefully to avoid invading one another's privacy in that very unprivate space that no one saw what was going on right in front of them. Indeed, doing it in a public place seemed to add a special frisson to our actions, for my penis felt thicker and harder than I had ever remembered it, and the sensations as Diane massaged it -- occasionally sliding all the way up and rubbing the increasingly sensitive tip -- were like none before.
Meanwhile my searching middle finger had found the entrance to her honey pot and dipped inside. Two steps forward, one step back, I eased into her, feeling her pussy lips blossom open. Deeper, deeper, now two fingers inside her and the gooey lubricant of her own juices flowing over them, I pulsed in and out.
Up above, Diane and I were carefully avoiding looking at each other, save for quick but meaningful glances. Still, I could hear her breathing grow shallow and knew I was doing the right thing down below.
How right I didn't realize until both her hands abandoned their other tasks and grasped mine, shoving me further inside her. "Faster," she whispered, and a few seconds later her head tilted back and I felt her body convulse against me. She brought her head forward again with a broad smile and put both her hands on me.
But it was too much and I couldn't hold back. I immediately thought of the mess it would make on her nice suit and tried to pull away, but Diane would have none of it. Instead, she lifted her right leg and, pulling aside her panties, slid my member into her hole, just in time for an explosion of cum to burst inside her. She held me there as my penis pumped a few more times and was still.
That might have been that, but while we were still so entangled the train lurched to a stop at the next station. The motion plunged me in and out of her, and quickly, to my astonishment, my member was rigid and ready once more.
"Why, thank you, kind sir," Diane teased as she began to move her hips against me. The primordial dance took us over. My pole slid into her like a blade in its sheath, a tight but perfect fit, driving deep into her cleft and out again. Her skirt was now completely gathered about her waist and I took advantage by sliding my left hand up and down the smooth curves of her stockinged leg while the left squeezed the tender globe of her behind, pulling her tighter against me and sending me even further up her canal of love.
Plastering my back against the metal pole behind me, I took her weight on me as we matched our tempo to the jerks and lurches of the ride. We really didn't have to move much ourselves; the train did all the work as penis and pussy played hide and go seek. A screeching brake and I plunged into her, the noise masking her own squeal; a sudden acceleration and I slid out almost all the way, only to have the head of my shaft pierce her again.
It was the first time I was ever happy that the transit authority was so stingy about track maintenance. Every bump was another jolt of sexual heat.
We had been going at it for about 15 minutes or so when I heard the conductor call out my stop.
"I get out here," I said regretfully.
"Do you have to," she said, and squeezed me, not with her hands.
"I think I can stay a little longer," I said.
"Thank you," she answered, and we continued. Hot and hungry, her opening devoured me. Hard and horny, I took what she had to offer, and took it again, and again, and again. Each stroke was like the first, a slide into heaven.
At last I felt the ending drawing regrettably near. Just then the lights flickered out briefly. Diane's mouth found mine in the momentary darkness; lips spread wide, our tongues touched. I felt my loins tighten and then a gusher came forth. Even as I was emptying myself into Diane a second time, she tightened up; I saw the muscles on her neck form taut cords and felt the muscles of her vagina pulse around me. She milked me dry and continued to convulse herself as I softened inside her. She was still trembling when my completely limp member slipped from her.
We looked each other in the eye then, and smiled. She put my flaccid penis back in its pocket and zipped me up. I eased down her leg and straightened out her skirt.
The train doors opened; it was her stop. She raised her eyebrows; I nodded and mouthed my thanks. As she stepped out into the station, she looked back at me. I just caught the words.
"Thank you," she said politely. | null | null | Authors/theGreatxIam/sub2.txt |
113,406 | Madeline | Britney's Strip Tease | Yesterday morning, while innocently eating my breakfast, I found myself captivated by a Fox News segment on whether Britney Spears' MTV Music Video Awards performance was too risqué for her teen and pre-teen fans. The performance was as much a striptease as possible to see on TV. She ripped off her man's suit to reveal mostly skin, with just a bikini top, thong-like bottoms, and totally sheer, clingy pants. It was a mind-bogglingly sexual performance.
Of course, it was the repeated clips of Britney's performance shown throughout the segment, not the commentary, that was so alluring. Fox gave very little face time to the commentators; instead, we heard their voices and watched Britney perform. The producers at Fox seemed to have a clear preference for the close-up shot of her rear-waggling, judging by the frequency of its repetition. I certainly didn't object to seeing it more than once.
However, the commentary wasn't entirely dull. Several people commented that the MTV Video Awards were on late at night, long after Britney's young (e.g., 8-year-old) fans would be in bed. That's true. But the Fox News segment was aired in the morning, probably before many of those same 8-year-olds were due at school. And a similar, although shorter, segment was shown this morning (Saturday), when those 8-year-olds would be lounging around in their pajamas, surfing for cartoons.
The hypocrisy of Fox News arguing that we need to protect the innocence of the young fans of Britney Spears while showing the objectionable material when those fans are more likely to be watching is not lost on me. But in reality, the discussion was probably merely a way to show as much of the Britney performance as possible to the adults. After all, I stayed glued to my TV screen as she tore off her clothes, waggled her rear, and pranced around the stage over and over again. I probably didn't even surf other channels during the commercials.
I do acknowledge that, for parents, there are real and important issues about how much sexuality young children ought to be exposed to. And there is something disturbing in an entertainer like Britney Spears singing her squeaky-clean lyrics in that babyish voice while her dress and dance are so overtly sexual.
Those issues are for me to write about on another day. For the moment, I'm just going to think about that well-muscled body writhing around on stage and that pert little rear waggling back and forth.
So, a quick word to the producers at Fox: Bring on the hypocrisy! For such performances, I will dutifully remain glued to my TV. | null | null | Authors/madeline/journals/006_britneys_strip_tease.txt |
113,618 | Veronica Karlin | Mommy Does As She's Told | Yesterday, my son brought a friend over and ordered me to give them both a little show. He called ahead and told me what he wanted me to wear. Eddie had his Mommy dress appropriately for the evening's activities, in stockings (of course) and garterbelt, thong panties, and his "favorite" bra, a little underwired, see-through silky thing that he had purchased for me from some online sex shop. It really pushed my already overly full breasts together, causing them to rise into a mountain of cleavage. I was also to wear one of my red wigs and, in his words, "lots of that whore makeup I like." I followed his instructions and topped off my very slutty look with a slinky print mini and a pair of (impossibly high) spiked heel shoes.
I was looking at myself in the mirror when I heard Eddie's car pull into the drive. "No time like the present," I thought to myself and gave myself one more look before I took up my preappointed, cross-legged position on the sofa and waited for Eddie to come into the family room. I heard the conversation from the kitchen, and I thought I heard another woman's voice. "Oh goody," I said to myself, as I imagined lapping at some nice coed pusscake, while my son watched or, better yet, doggie fucked his Mommy's butt.
I was genuinely surprised when the two boys (and no girls) finally entered the room. Eddie came in first, followed by what seemed to be a very young (too young) boy. He didn't look to be older than 11 or 12 years. "What in the hell is going on, Eddie? You know that I won't be a part of something like this," I bristled and stood up, intending to storm (my high heels would have made that impossible) out of the room. "Relax, Mom, this is Allen," Eddie began to explain. "He's a frat brother of mine, and no, he's not a kid. He's almost as old as I am. He has a medical condition, here look at his ID," he said, and Allen thrust his University identification and driver's license in my face. "I'm old enough for anything, Mrs. Karlin," he squeaked in a preteen-sounding voice. Both of the boys laughed; Eddie took my hand and ushered me back onto the sofa.
Allen was 18 and a University freshman, but he looked so very much younger. He was small, almost petite. Eddie told him that he could do anything he wanted to me, just as long as he called me Mom or Mommy. He had told Allen to treat me like a "cum-slurping whore" and I'd "respond better." Eddie knows his Mommy! I'm unsure what Allen had expected, but he seemed truly awe-struck when Eddie actually started giving me orders and calling me names. "Do it, Mom! You're my mommy whore, you slut for cum! Fuck your ass with your hairbrush!" I just laughed, complied, and enjoyed my role in the game.
The boys had me perform for them for several minutes. I stretched my pussy lips and fucked myself with various objects that happened to be about the room--the TV remote, a rolled-up magazine, Allen's cell phone--it actually rang while I was playing with it, tee hee. After a while, I noticed Eddie gesture to Allen, and his baby-faced friend crossed the room to where I was now spread out on the sofa. Allen took to the game like a natural. He pulled me up, into a sitting position and sat himself down in my lap. He was probably about 5 feet tall and I'm 5' 3". I found it very easy to accommodate his weight.
"OK, Mommy," he said in that young-boy voice, as he pulled my hair and head back roughly. "Stick one of those big mommy whore titties in my mouth and nurse your son, and while I'm sucking on it, fish out your baby boy's piss meat and play with it like a real mommy slut! You remember, do it just like you used to, when Eddie was chewing on your big tits," he said, glancing at my son and giving him a quick "thumbs up." I caught on quickly and began "baby talking" to him. Cooing and humming as I reached inside his pants and felt his cock for the first time. Like the rest of him, it was small too. That excited me. I really love to suck on mature, small cocks and large clits!
I began to squeeze and shake his very stiff, but skinny 3 or 4 inches. The piss slit was already shining with precum. If not for that fact, it would have reminded me of a real little boy's dick, although I haven't squeezed one of those since I was a little girl. He sucked my tits hard, biting them and chewing the nipples. He stopped long enough to say something like, "Wow, you really are a mommy whore, aren't you?" He grabbed my stiffened nipples and began to twist them and play rough with them. He let it slip that he'd never had a woman who'd let him do anything that he wanted to, so he was just experimenting--trying to see how much punishment and teasing Mom's big tits could take. He'd already sucked the right one so hard that it was leaking fluid. I was getting pretty sexed up. My shaved mommy pussy was so very wet--so wet that I was embarrassed.
Allen told me that it was my turn to suck. He got up from my lap and presented me with his very cute, little, pink dick. His balls were small and tight, but I felt certain that he had a load for Mommy. I licked his pencil dick up and down and sucked his little nut sack into my mouth, all the while looking up at him, making all the eye contact that I could, as I lapped and slurped at his boy-like dick. He pulled me forward by the hair, and I sucked his hot little cock into my cum-hungry, mommy-whore mouth. It was extremely exciting to suck this little cock while Eddie watched and encouraged his friend to fuck his Mom's whore mouth!
Both the boys were having their fun calling me names and making me say things too. Allen would pull his dick out of my mouth and rub it in my face--hard. Wiping his precum across my lips, he made me look him in the eye and tell him that I loved sucking my son's dick, that I was a "mommy cum slut," that I loved "boy dick juice." He made me say that I loved sucking nasty dog dicks and then told me to demonstrate my dog sucking method on his little piss wiener. At that, he shoved his dick into my mouth and wrapped his forearms around my head and started fucking my mouth like a dog would. He and Eddie were both barking and howling.
I was so excited that I'd grabbed Eddie's beer bottle and was really going after my shaved pussy. I knew Allen had to be ready to come, and sure enough, he slid his prick from my mouth, and told me, "Hold up your tits for your doggie's boy cum!" I did as I was ordered, leaving the beer bottle deep in my clenching pussy, and started baby talking again. "Come on, Mommy's big titties, baby Allen. Make Mommy your little doggie whore cum slut. Squirt your dick juice all over Mommy just like the big, nasty doggie dick does." Seeing Mommy there, squatting on a beer bottle, talking nasty, squeezing my big tits together, twisting my nipples, and begging for "my baby Allen's doggie dick juice" was what it took--to take Allen over the edge. His first cum squirt landed on my right boob, then he shifted his aim to the left and deposited a gob of nasty, hot boy goo. I instinctively opened my mouth, as he leaned in closer and splattered my face. "Open your slut mouth, Mommy. I want you to eat the rest of your son's dog cum!" he said, as he shoved his still squirting little dick into my open mouth.
I closed my lips around his now juicy little dickhead and he continued jacking the shaft off, using just two of his fingers at the base. He had soooo much cum! Yummy! Unbelievable! I couldn't swallow quickly enough, and cum dribbled from my mouth. I caught what I could in my hand, and made a show of rubbing it into my pussy. Of course, I also licked it up from my hand and blew some "requested" cum bubbles too. Allen was still stiff, and he told me to get myself off, and he'd jack off on me again. Ever the slut, I did as I was told, and even Eddie walked over for a better view. I fucked myself hard with the beer bottle, pinching my swollen nipples and playing with some of Allen's cum, still in my mouth. I must have been quite a sight! Eddie told me to arc my back and finger my asshole too.After just a couple of minutes of watching Mommy finger her own ass and fuck her cunt with a beer bottle, all the while begging for boy cum, Mommy got what she was begging for. I was Bukkake Mom! (not sure of the spelling). Those two boys came in walls of juice. Allen came two more times and Eddie came three times, mostly right into my mouth or on my face, but there was also plenty for my tits and whore mommy cunt too. Eddie even managed a squirt on my asshole as I fingered it. I was drenched in cum. Eddie, now sitting on the edge of the bed, had me scoop it up and eat it. "See Al, I told you that she was a real cum slut Mom," he said. Lying there on the floor, all boy cummy and nasty, gives a girl ideas. I teased, "You know, boys, you've made Mommy all nasty and gooey. I think that you should rinse your cum slut Mommy off with your hot boy pee." Eddie smiled and Allen looked dumbfounded. I giggled and shoved the beer bottle up my ass. Allen's eyes got so wide! Needless to say, the boys had quite a piss party with Mommy! Allen and my son just loved watching Mommy gargle their hot boy pee! They each managed to come again also. I was such a nasty Mommy for those boys. However, I'm certain they appreciated it. | F/MM-teens, inc, exh, oral, anal, beast, ws | N/A | Authors/MommyShowsIt/Mommy Does As She's Told.txt |
113,823 | null | She wants her daddy to teach her everything part 1 | Yes, this is a disclaimer. Do not try this at home, and it is just fiction about a father getting caught by his 15-year-old daughter who wants to know everything.
As the afternoon went on, Skip tried to see how much porn he could get in before his daughter came home from school. His wife was boring as hell in bed, and that was when he was able to get anything. Usually, it was watch porn and jack off. After a while, he started to get bored with the same old routine and he started to surf other sites - ones with little teenage girls, as a matter of fact, girls his daughter's age, the ones who were just starting to develop. When his daughter would bring her friends over, he couldn't help but stare at them in their schoolgirl outfits, little checker skirts bending over to pick things up.
One would sit there and open and close her legs like she was cooling her young pussy off. Skip had taken all he could and asked her to stop. It was driving him nuts. Her comment was "they did it to the teachers all the time." No wonder there are so many teachers getting caught fucking their students. He would do anything to fuck Tina, a daughter of a good friend of his, at that too.
As he was stroking his cock to a scene where a schoolgirl was getting tag-teamed by a couple of older men, he was just about to cum when he heard his daughter gasp. "Daddy, what are you doing?" Oh, shit, as he tried to cover up his hard-on. Too late, as he was trying to put a shirt over his cock when it started shooting cum everywhere.
"Daddy, what were you doing?" "I was making myself feel good, baby girl. You shouldn't have seen that. I'm sorry." "That girl on TV has his thingy in her mouth. How can she breathe? And is that what you were doing to feel good?" "No, princess, I can't do it myself. That's why the girl is there." "What she did made him feel good on his thingy?"
"Yes, it is, princess, and it is called a cock, and she is sucking on his cock, and that makes him feel good." "Tina said she sucked on a thingy, I mean a cock, before, but I don't believe her." "Tina, your friend from school?" "Yeah, she said she was behind the shed in their backyard, and she said she sucked Dan's, ummm, cock, then they heard a noise and never did it since." "Well, then, princess, I think it's about time you learn as well. But it will have to be our secret, okay?" "Okay, daddy." As the movie plays, Jessica can feel her daddy's hand touch her as it runs along her thigh and up under her dress. Before long, she can feel his fingers against the elastic of her panties, and she can feel herself getting warmer. She isn't sure what to do, so she asks, "Daddy, he is going to put his cock inside of her, right? We learned about that in sex ed, but they called it a penis." "Yes, dear, penis or cock, you can call it either one, and yes, he is going to, after he puts his tongue down there first." "Do you want me to show you, princess?" "Yes, daddy."There was enough light in the room so the camera would catch everything, and he was ready to go. The movie started out with two men sitting by the pool while a young girl in a blue bikini was playing with a couple of her friends in the pool. As the two guys drank beer, they couldn't help but stare at the girls playing around, their nipples poking through their bathing suits every time they would get out of the pool and run around before jumping back in. Soon it was time for the girls to go home, they all got out of the water together and came over to the one's father and his friend to grab their towels. "How about I give you a ride home, girls?" the one's father asked, but the girls said no, they were walking. With that, the two men and the daughter went inside.
In the movie, the men were related, as one was the brother of the other. As the girl headed upstairs to change, she was followed by both men. When she went into her room, she came out in a sexy red outfit. Her little breasts were starting to show cleavage from the bra, and her thong fit nicely in between her ass crack. When she reached the bedroom, the two men were standing at the end of the bed. The girl walked in between them and went right on her knees.
As the three of them started to do a lot more, Skip had already been fondling his daughter's breast and nipple. He could already feel her squirming as she watched the movie. "Daddy, can she have sex with two men at once?" Jessica asked. "Yes, she can have sex with many men at once, princess. There are three places a man can use on a woman, and the others will just have to wait their turn," he replied.
By now, Skip's fingers were between his daughter's legs. He could feel the moisture already and had her stand up. "Okay, princess, I want you to twirl around and let me see how beautiful you look. Wow, you look amazing. Now, take off the dress you're wearing. That's a girl... You are so beautiful." She was all excited how her daddy made her feel. "Now, princess, remember when you sucked my cock this afternoon? I want you to do it again. That's a good girl, you're getting better every time. Now, look up at daddy. Wow, princess, keep doing that. Now, lick it like an ice cream, remember. Okay, baby, I am going to cum in your mouth again, just like today. I want you to open your mouth after I cum, okay, then you can swallow it all."
"Okay, baby, here I cum. That's it, keep sucking, keep sucking. Arrrrrrrrrrrrr, ahhhhhhhhhhh!" His baby girl's cheeks looked like they were ready to explode when he finally stopped cumming in his daughter's mouth. When he pulled his cock out, some of the cum dripped out. He thought, "I hope the camera caught that." "Okay, Jessica, you can swallow it now. That's it, just like that. Now, come over here and lay down, it is my turn to make you feel good." Slowly, he removes the bra and starts to kiss her 34B tits, "God, they taste good. But not half as good as her virgin pussy will taste." With that, he moved down and pulls her panties off. Her eyes are closed as his tongue touches her lips. "Wow, daddy, that feels good. That's right, baby girl, I am going to make you feel really good soon."
After he licked his daughter's pussy till she had orgasmed twice, he was hard again. "Okay, baby, are you ready for me to fuck you?" "Yes, daddy, I want you to fuck me, but will it fit?" "Don't worry, princess, I will take my time, and it will fit." With that, he pushed the head of his cock against her pussy and instead of being nice about it, he couldn't help himself. With one push, he was deep inside of his daughter. She wrapped her arms around him and screamed in pain for him to stop. He stopped for a second, but he did that more for the camera to catch the blood from his once virgin daughter deflowered by her daddy seconds before. He was telling her the pain will be over in a minute, and she will feel the pleasure soon.
After a few slower strokes, she was getting more relaxed, and she could feel her body starting to shiver before she had an orgasm. "OMG, daddy, this feels so good." After a few minutes, he got off of her and had her get on her hands and knees. "I am going to fuck you like they did to the girl in the movie, baby." "Okay, daddy, but here is only one of you." "I thought of that, princess, so I brought someone who has wanted to fuck you as bad as I have for so long." With that, Dave came out from the stairwell. Just when Jessica was about to ask who it was, she saw Dave. "Your Mr. Wilson, Tina's dad." "That's right, Jessica, and I have wanted to fuck you since you started hanging around with my daughter when you were 11." "Dad, I can't have sex with him. Tina will be mad at me." "Well, princess, you can't tell Tina or anyone what we're doing, okay, or we can't do it ever again." With that, Dave got on his knees and put his cock in Jessica's face. "Now, suck my cock, Jessica, I have waited for this for a long time." It wasn't long before Dave was about to cum, and he did just that, all over Jessica's face. When he did that, Skip exploded deep inside of his daughter. "Now, clean it off, Jessica. No, wait, better yet, leave it full of cum so it will slide into your ass easier." "No, Dave, not tonight, she has had enough for her first night." "You want to fuck her pussy, go ahead. Dave looked at Skip and said, "You want to be the first in Tina's ass, I am the first in your daughter's." "Fair enough." Jessica looked at her daddy in a weird way, not knowing what they meant. Dave went behind Jessica and told her to start fingering herself. She reached back and put her fingers in her pussy and could feel the cum dripping out. "That's it, Jessica, now rub it around your asshole." With that, Dave pushed his thumb inside of her ass and wiggled it around. He was hard again, so he pulled out his thumb and replaced it with his cock. He was smaller than Skip's, but it still hurt at first.
It was getting close to midnight, and Skip's wife would be home soon, so he told Dave to hurry up. When Skip was standing over the two with the camera in hand, he could see his daughter get weak as she had cum again just as Dave filled her ass with his load. When he pulled out, Skip zoomed in on his daughter's ass and taped it all. His daughter looked spent as he had Dave clean up so he and his daughter could shower before his wife got home. | null | Part 1 | Authors/somenew12/She wants her daddy to teach her everything part 1.txt |
113,824 | null | She wants her daddy to teach her everything part 2 | Yes, this is a disclaimer. Do not try this at home, and it is just fiction about a father getting caught by his 15-year-old daughter who wants to know everything.
But to continue...
"Good morning, princess. You look beautiful this morning. Did you enjoy last night when Dave came over?" "Yes, I did, Daddy. Can I tell Tina?" "No, baby, you can't tell her anything, OK. She doesn't know that no one knows, OK. If she found out, you know she might not be your friend anymore." "Ok, Daddy, but I don't know if I can look at her without thinking about last night, watching her and her daddy." "Well, princess, you can't say anything, OK." "Ok, Daddy. I love you." Give me a kiss, baby girl, and don't forget the principal will call you into his office to talk to you today about those boys. "OK, Daddy. I love you. Are you sure I can't stay home with you today? Mommy will be at work again." "No, princess. I don't want my daughter flunking school. Did you put on the black thong I left out for you, baby? The one I told you to wear today?" "Yes, Daddy. I feel all grown up in them. Thank you for buying them for me, Daddy. I love you, Daddy. Can I give you a kiss?" "You sure can, because I love my daughter."
It was lunchtime, and Jessica was out in the grass sitting with Tina. "So what did you do last night, Jessica?" "Just homework and watched a movie. I tried calling your cell all night, and I must have texted you 20 times." "Yea, I know. After I did my homework, I, ummm, went to bed." "Ok, well, we should do something tonight. Ok, text me, Tina."
As Tina leaves, the 4 boys who have been bothering Jessica surround her. "Come with us, Jessica. We want to talk to you." "No, I am not going with you. I know what you want." "Yea, you do, do you, and I know I am going to get it too."
"HEY, what's going on over there?" "Um, nothing, Principal Williams. We were just asking Jennifer a couple of questions." "Yea, what kind of questions?" "Ummm, just math, right, Jessica?" Before Jessica could answer, the principal tells the boys to get going and looks down at Jessica, telling her to see him in 5 minutes. Jessica couldn't understand why she had to go because she did nothing wrong. Then she remembered her Daddy told her Mr. Williams will want to see her today.
As she heads to his office, the secretary tells her to sit down, and the principal will see her in a minute. When Jessica sits down, the secretary looks over at Jessica and eyes her from head to toe before she smiles and goes back to work. Within 3 minutes, the secretary looks up at Jessica and tells her it is ok to go walk in, the principal will see her now. She stands up and walks her into the office, smiles at the principal, locks the door behind her, but not before catching a glance at Jessica as she stands in the middle of the room.
"That will be all, Mrs. Jones." The secretary looks over and smiles and locks the door.
"Why did she lock the door, Mr. Williams?" "So no one bothers us, Jessica. I want to talk to you about a few things. Sit down right here." As he pulls out a leather chair away from his desk and puts it in the middle of the room. When she sits, she feels his hand as it caresses the back of her neck. He didn't get a chance to see if she had the right panties on to let him know it was ok and everything was a go. He had to think of something fast.
"Ok, Jessica, why were those boys all around you at lunch? They weren't asking you math questions, were they?" "No, Mr. Williams, they weren't." "What were they doing then?" "Just bugging me and saying things." "Oh, really, like what?" "Oh, nothing." "Come on, Jessica, I know how boys at that age are. You can tell me, and I will take care of it. It's ok, you can tell me. Your father already called me and told me what they were doing to you."
Jessica looked down toward the floor. "Jessica, I have to ask you, were you doing anything to provoke them?" "Like what, Mr. Williams?" "I didn't say you had to say anything, Jessica. I mean, are you wearing the proper clothing to school?" Jessica started to shake as she remembered she was wearing the thong her Daddy bought her. "Ummmm, yes, I am, Mr. Williams." "Can I see, Jessica? All you have to do is lean over the chair. If you like, I can get Mrs. Jones in here to see as well."
Jessica already knew she was in trouble but didn't want anyone else to know she wasn't wearing the proper clothing for the school. So she says, "No, it's ok, Mr. Williams. I am wearing different underwear today." "What do you mean, different, Jessica?" "I mean, I mean. Why don't you turn around and touch your toes for me, Jessica? I want to see for myself. If they are the proper panties, I will let you go, and I will take care of those boys so they don't bother you ever again."
Mr. Williams knew here was his one shot. He could feel his cock starting to grow as Jessica stood up and turned around slowly. "Hurry up, young lady. I don't have all day." Jessica grabbed the sides of her skirt and started lifting it above her thighs.
"WOW, I mean, those don't look like regulation panties, Jessica. Where did you get those?" Not wanting to say anything, she says, "I bought them myself, Mr. Williams." "Ok, Jessica, sit back down." As Mr. Williams knew he was in, he started getting more confident. Walking toward Jessica, he runs his hand over her shoulder. "Now, Jessica, what do you want me to do? Do you want me to suspend you? You're not wearing regulation clothes for school, and what were you doing to those boys? You say they were bothering you. Are you sure you weren't bothering them?"
Jessica started to cry, worried she was going to get suspended, and said, "No, I haven't done anything with those boys, honest, Mr. Williams. Please don't suspend me. My dad will punish me, and my mom will ground me, and I will be removed from the cheerleading team." "Well, then, Jessica, then we have a problem. I don't know what to do with you unless we can come to an agreement."
With that, Mr. Williams' hand falls off of Jessica's shoulder and down to her breasts before giving it a caress. With tears in Jessica's eyes, she tries to move away. "Ok, Jessica, you can decide to behave, or I will suspend you for improper actions at school." With that, he returns his hand over her breast and holds it there.
"What do I have to do, Mr. Williams?" "Call me Tom, Jessica. What do I have to do, Mr. Williams, I mean, Tom?" "No, you know what, call me Mr. Williams." With that, he goes back to his desk and sits there and tells Jessica to stand up. Jessica is slow to respond, and he says, "NOW, Jessica, or the deal is off." Jessica removes her top, showing her new Lacey bra (another item Daddy bought her). "Keep going, take the top right off, Jessica. Good girl. Now the skirt."
Jessica was still crying, but she knew it would be worse at home, so she started to remove her skirt. "Ok, Jessica, now come over here and sit on my desk. God, you look beautiful. I have thought about this moment since you came to my school in grade 9. How old are you now?" "16. I am 15, Mr. Williams." "Well, well, you must be quite a girl, Jessica. Did you go buy these bra and panties?" Not wanting to get her Daddy in trouble, she said, "No, I got them from my mom's drawer." "Wow, Jessica, I didn't know you went through your mom's stuff when she isn't there. I think I should have a talk with your Daddy about this." Jessica was crying again, pleading no, and he knew right then he had her for whatever he wanted.
"Ok, Jessica, I want you to lay down on my desk." The oak desk was cold to her back as she laid down in front of Mr. Williams. "Ok, Jessica, have you ever played with yourself?" "What do you mean?" "Have you ever played with your pussy? Have you or any of your friends been together and played with yourselves?" Right away, Jessica's mind went racing back to last night, watching her best friend getting fucked by her Daddy on film. Before she knew it, she could feel her wetness between her legs. Without thinking anymore, her fingers started rubbing the outside of her thong. "That a girl, Jessica. If you were my daughter, I would fuck you every day." Hearing those words, Jessica let out a moan, and her fingers slipped inside of her panties. Mr. Williams pulled out his cock and started jacking off to watching her. Leaning over, he put his face on her young pussy and started licking her pussy. He moved her thong to the side, and she held on to it without even realizing it. All she thought about was his tongue on her pussy. Mr. Williams moved his face away from her and aimed his cock head right at her opening. She was still fingering her pussy and moaning louder, and he thought, "Damn, she is a live one." And he can't wait till she is shared among all the other fathers with daughters in the area. He let Skip into the mix when Jessica turned 12 because he knew it would be a matter of time before Jessica was his as well. Some went willingly, some were taught to obey. It didn't matter to him as long as he got to fuck them. He remembered it was just a week ago when he fucked her best friend Tina in the same spot. With that, he eased his cock into Jessica. "MMMMMMmmmmmmm." Jessica was already on the verge of coming, seeing how she was lost in her fingers. All her crying had long gone, and she was thinking about the night before when she was brought back to by her orgasm.OMG, you have a tight cunt, Jessica. Jessica didn't care; she was still coming. Mr. Williams started thrusting in and out harder and harder into Jessica as she looked like a rag doll on his desk. He wanted to see her ass, so he pulled his cock out of her and dragged her off his desk. "Turn around, Jessica. I want to see your ass." Jessica turned around and bent over the desk. Mr. Williams shoved his cock back inside of her, feeling her wet pussy pulling against his cock. He always loved the younger girls; they were always the tightest. He told her that when he cums, he's going to turn her around, and she is going to suck his cock. And she just nodded. Before he came, he thought back to last week when he fucked Tina and how she wouldn't listen, so he had to rape her until she submitted. When he threw Tina over the chair and ripped her panties off and fucked her hard. Within a moment of thinking back, he looks at Jessica and says, "Okay, you little cunt, get on your knees. I am going to cum in your mouth. Don't swallow it either; I want to see my cum in your mouth. You're going to be seeing my cum in your mouth a lot from now on, you got it?" He grabs her head and forces her mouth down his cock as she starts to gag. "Fuck it, cunt, swallow it all. If you drip any, I will fuck your ass, you got it?" She nodded. Mr. Williams loved fucking, but he prefers it rougher. So tomorrow, she will get a rude awakening.
When he was done with her, he told her to get dressed and get out and that he will see her tomorrow at lunch. And to not be wearing panties. When she left, the secretary gave her a look and a smile. Jessica just lowered her head and went home, not knowing what to expect when she got home, but she knew she would be with her daddy again, and that is all that matters to her. | null | null | Authors/somenew12/She wants her daddy to teach her everything part 2.txt |
113,827 | Katherine-T | A View of the Lake | You know what it's like in the morning after one of those funky parties, the dawn light coming in through the windows to show the stains on the cracked walls, the assorted crap scattered on the wooden floor, a fat butch sleeping with her mouth open, the girl beside her with torn nylons and a face smeared with mascara and lipstick, maybe a dozen other women lying around like rag dolls in a junkyard, big and small, fat and thin, one femme lying on her belly with her skirt pulled up to expose her ass. All the rag dolls.
And I'm one of the rag dolls. I want to go home. I don't want to go home. I want to be out of here and I don't want to be out of here. I don't know which is reality, the world outside the grimy windows or the collection of rag dolls in this huge room that I was told was once a sweatshop brassiere factory. But maybe that's just a story, some dyke fantasy about tits and bras.
I came here with someone, but I have no idea where she is. Maybe she went home. Maybe she flushed herself down the toilet. I'm thinking about getting up and finding a bathroom, when I feel an arm sliding over my waist. I turn my head and look. I don't know her. She has brown hair, high cheekbones, a wide mouth, and brown eyes that stare at me as though she can see all the dark corners in my head.
"You slept a long time," she says, her voice husky, as if it's midnight and she's ready to get into my pants.
But it's not midnight, it's six o'clock in the morning, my mouth feels wasted, and I have a slight headache after too much red wine last night. Red wine always wrecks my head; one of the problems of my life is that I love red wine and it always wrecks my head.
So I sigh and try to appear nonchalant. Should I push her arm away from my body? "Did I really sleep a long time?"
"Three hours," she says, her voice still husky.
Maybe it's her natural voice and she's not putting it on. But then she does have her arm on me, which I suppose means she's interested in more than a discussion about whether it's better to sleep a long time or a short time.
"I guess I needed the sleep," I say. She has a gorgeous butch face, no makeup at all, hair sleek and short, and those dark eyes still so familiar with the inside of my head.
"I'm sorry if I tired you out," she says.
Now I'm listening hard, trying to remember. But I don't remember her, nothing at all. So what went on last night -- or just a few hours ago?
"Tired me out? What does that mean?"
When I turn my head to look at her, she smiles at me. Perfect white teeth. What does she do, walk around all day with brightener strips on her teeth? The way she's looking at me, I think I know what she means.
And she says: "You don't remember?"
"Nothing at all."
Her arm moves on my belly. "That's delicious."
I'm annoyed. "Maybe to you, but I don't know what you're talking about."
"Come home with me," she says.
"Why should I?"
"If you come home with me, I'll make breakfast for us and we'll talk about last night. Or we'll talk about the weather. Or the lake. Or whatever you want to talk about."
"Promise?"
"Of course."
"What sort of breakfast?"
"Eggs, bacon, toast, jelly. And the best espresso in town."
My stomach grumbles. What the hell. A few minutes later she's holding my hand as she leads me out of the rag doll room.
* * *
She's past forty and she says her name is Fran. She drives a black Corvette, which of course impresses me, since what I drive is a ten-year-old Toyota with a severely bent fender and a heater that doesn't always work.
"We'll be at my apartment in no time," she says.
As if to encourage me not to fly away.
She knows how to handle the Corvette. After a few minutes, I slump into the bucket seat, close my eyes and think about breakfast.
Then I feel her hand patting my thigh. "Are you hungry?" she says.
"I'm starved."
She pulls her hand away. "Good, so am I."
I want to tell her that I have a red-wine headache, but instead I remain quiet. I look at her. She wears black. A black Corvette and black clothes. Tight black sweater that shows a large bust, and tight black jeans that show a full ass. I have nothing to complain about. She's my type. I don't know what we did last night, but she's my type. A butch with curves. And breakfast is in the offing. I close my eyes again.
* * *
On Lake Shore Drive, we pull into a basement hi-rise garage. She parks the Corvette and we ride an elevator to the twentieth floor and a sprawling apartment with floor-to-ceiling windows and a view of the sun rising over the lake.
"Make yourself comfortable," she says. "I'll get breakfast started."
"Could I possibly have a shower here? I need it."
"Sure, honey, come with me." She leads me into a large bathroom. "It's all yours. I'll get you a robe."
A robe? Am I here to stay? She turns and walks out, closes the bathroom door and I'm alone.
I want the shower. Maybe a hot shower will help my headache. And a hot shower will get me clean in case I need to be clean later on. I know there will be a later on. She did not bring me here to chat about the weather while we have breakfast. I know all about that. I do know all about it.
So I strip and climb into the shower, and it does help my headache, and it gets me clean and I'm happy. It's Sunday morning, and I can relax, have a tasty breakfast and see what happens with this butch with curves. I still don't know what I did with her last night, but last night is a fading memory and I'm certainly better off here than yawning on the floor with the other rag dolls.
When I finish the shower and step out onto the bathroom rug, I find an aqua silk robe waiting for me on the commode, and sitting squarely on top of the silk robe a pair of cute high-heeled mules.
Cute, indeed. She wants me femmed up. I know all about that too. I do know all about it. I dry myself, use some of the cologne I find on a shelf, then open my little purse and start making up my face. Fifteen minutes later the high heels I'm wearing are clicking on the parquet floor as I make my way down the hall to the dining room. Now I'm starved, really needing some breakfast. And I'm getting turned on because I'm thinking this Sunday morning may turn out to be interesting.
* * *
In the dining room, I find Fran in a short chenille robe and barefooted, fresh from a shower in another bathroom. She looks good, not a sign of fatigue from the night before. I enjoy looking at her.
Fran is not pushy. She does not push me one way or the other. We have a lovely breakfast and delicious coffee. My belly is full and I'm happy, content, glowing. Of course it doesn't take long, not more than ten minutes after breakfast, when we're at the enormous window looking at the lake, that she slides her arm around my waist and then drops her hand to squeeze my ass.
She says, "Don't you remember last night?"
"No, what happened?"
"You made love to me and you were very good."
I don't miss the meaning; I'm blushing. "All right, I'll take your word for it."
She laughs and kisses my ear. "I think you're bluffing."
"About what?"
"About not remembering. I think you remember everything."
Then she turns me and she kisses my mouth, first a tender kiss and then with more fervor. Now it's a real kiss, my mouth open, her tongue sliding over and between my teeth. She gets her fingers in me, one finger, two fingers, three fingers, I'm stretched wide open, probed and fucked by her hand. She knows how, all right. Some curvy butch this is.
She pulls away and she asks me what sort of work I do. When I tell her I work part time as a catalog model for one of the department store chains, she smiles. "Oh, I adore models," she says. Then she adds: "Show me."
Show her what? When I look doubtful, she urges me to remove the robe I'm wearing (her robe) and show her my body.
Of course now I'm turning on to a maximum and I don't mind at all. It's not as if I expected another outcome. Showing my body is always the general result. I was not provided the lovely silk robe for any reason but to remove it. So I untie the robe and remove it, casually drop it on a chair and stand in the morning sunlight as she looks at me.
She looks, she asks me to turn, she asks me to walk a bit in the high heels. She evidently likes to look. I wouldn't mind looking at her, wouldn't mind seeing those big tits in the open, but for the moment her robe remains tied.
She tells me she has clothes in her shop that would be perfect for me. What shop? I learn she owns a boutique on Oak Street. She mentions the name. I know it. We're talking real money here; we're talking about Oak Street and not some dinky suburban dress shop.
She's had enough looking and she moves in and kisses me again. This time I'm naked and her hands are all over me, stroking, pinching, fingers probing, palms patting my ass. Am I to be cooked in a pot? I manage to get a hand on one of her breasts and I squeeze it. She laughs and kisses my mouth again. "Come on, baby, go down on me. I love what you did to me last night." She pulls away, unties the robe and drops it.
She does a turn to show me everything. She says, "Not bad, am I?"Not bad for forty-six."
Not bad at all. She's twenty years older than me, easily old enough to be my mother, except my mother, who still lives in a house in Dubuque with a flag on the porch, would have a heart attack if she ever saw this.
Hello, Mother. If you're reading this, don't pretend you don't know me.
Fran wants me. She thrusts her hips at me, offering herself. I'd rather suck her big breasts, but instead I kneel on the parquet floor and I suck her cunt. She puts one foot on a chair to make it easier for me. She hunches at my mouth, fucking my face. Oak Street fucking the girl from Dubuque. It doesn't matter, I like it. This is me. Out of one corner of my eye I can see the lake through the enormous window. Miles of blue water and a clear sky. The view is breathtaking. | null | null | Authors/Katherine_T/lake.txt |
114,504 | cantbuymy | Born One Year Too Early | You know the rest. The year was 2008, and I had just come back. I walked into my house and saw them.
"Now who the heck are you, and what are you doing in my home?" I demanded.
The woman was in shock and grabbed her children protectively. They hid behind her, looking scared in my direction.
"Who, who are you?" the woman asked.
"I am the man who owns the house you are in, that is who I am!" I told her harshly but without yelling. "Is anyone else here with you?"
"No, just my children and I," the woman answered in a low voice that showed fear.
Her children were shaking in fear. This has to stop.
Kneeling down, I ignored the mother and spoke to the two young girls. They were not physically close to me, but I did not want to appear to tower over them. Where they were standing, I was already too close to these frightened little waifs hiding behind their mother, so the calmer I was, the better it was for them.
"I am sure that everything will be okay, so don't worry and don't be afraid. I would never hurt you or your mother. I am just a little surprised to find someone here. Now don't worry, we will work things out just as soon as I find out what is going on. No one will hurt you here, so it will be okay. I promise no one will ever hurt you if you are with me," I said in a soft voice.
I am sure I did not look all that great after seventy-two hours of traveling and six months in some hell hole. At least I stopped off before I got home and took a shower and got some groceries.
Looking around, I could see that the house looked better than I did. I had been away for six months, and by the look of things, nothing had been damaged, and the place was clean and neat. It was cleaner than I remember when I left, and I was pretty clean and neat, now that there was only me.
"The, the, the owner said we could stay here," the woman said, stuttering, almost as frightened as the children.
"What is the owner's name, the one who said you could stay here?" I asked, keeping my voice down and not showing emotion that might frighten the mother or her children. I remained kneeling and looking up at her.
"Susan and Linda said I could stay here. My daughters go to school with their daughters," the woman said, trying not to break down.
"My daughters! Well, it figures," I said with some exasperation, but still softly.
"Well, you must know two of my granddaughters, Carley and Carey? They are about your age, so you must see them at school," I said to the two girls. I did not care about the mother at this time; she would be taken care of later, but for now, the little ones had to be soothed.
Getting nods from both of them, I went on.
"Well then, I have a special treat for little girls that play with my granddaughters. Do you like ice cream? I have some here with me," I told them.
Of course, I got a big smile and a silent head nod for "yes" from both of them, even though they were still a little shaken and afraid of me. But trust comes easy to children, especially when mom is there and ice cream is involved.
There are a few things I do when I travel. One is to make sure everything is washed and clean and folded when I pack it to go home. I hate coming home and having to spend two days washing things. I also hated for my wife to have to do it, so I always did it before I came home. There were other things I wanted my bride to spend her time on, and doing my wash was not one of them.
It was lucky for them that I came home fully equipped. I stopped at the commissary and picked up enough food for a month after I hit the gym and used the showers. That too was standard for me now.
"Call my daughters while I bring things inside," I told the woman.
"What is your name? My name is Franklin," I said.
Without waiting for a response or even hearing one, I began to bring in bags and bags of food. The ice cream hit the plates first. They each got a scoop of mint chocolate chip ice cream with sprinkles on top. I always get ice cream for the grandchildren when I come home, and that is their favorite. Okay, I get some for my daughters too; a father's habits are hard to break.
As the little ones ate, I filled the freezer and refrigerator with everything I bought. I even went and filled the extra freezer and refrigerator that I kept downstairs in the underground garage.
I did not talk to them, but I kept my body language relaxed, and I did smile when I looked at them. The girls were pretty cute and deserved a smile. There was something missing in their eyes, though. We would have to work on that. This time, working on "that" would have to be limited to making them smile, so I gave them another scoop of ice cream and a few more sprinkles. They smiled.
I live in a small community of twenty town homes. It was two attached, and each had access to a common underground garage, that was divided up into two garages for each two town homes, and they were completely enclosed, so you had a private garage for each unit but with a common drive to get to them. That way, there was a lot of grass on top where we were and not much in the way of pavement. The entire community was built on an underground parking structure, with lots of grass above it and great drainage. There was only one entrance to the garage from the street area.
It took about thirty minutes, and while I did the unpacking and after my "guest" had a time to talk with my daughters, I then spoke with both of my daughters and told them that I would be over in a while to see them. They are always my first stop when I come home.
These days, I tend to travel a lot. No one knows when I come home, not even me. Well, maybe they do tell me when I am going to go home, but I don't pay attention anymore. One day seems to meld into the next and the previous one. I am just treading water in life right now.
"There is plenty of food, so make the girls something good and nutritious to eat, and maybe when I get back, you will be so kind as to finally tell me your names," I said as I walked out the door with packages in both arms. I did not wait for a reply.
It was a nice thirty-minute walk to their house. They lived next door to each other with a common yard that they made common by taking the fence down. That thirty minutes is not more than a couple of miles, if that. I could have driven, but I was still wired from the trip, and walking would help.
Once there, I was with my daughters and granddaughters and yes, their husbands too. Hell, I'm a father. The thought of my daughters having sex with a man, even a husband, pisses me off. When they married my daughters, I did not give them a gun, but I showed them the bullet. I was very protective. Okay, maybe I am not pissed after all these years, but if they hurt them, I will get pissed in a big hurry. Children are forever, especially daughters.
I learned all about my three "guests". I learned probably more than they would have wanted me to know. After two hours, I left and took a walk to a store I know about, from years of visiting it.
I entered my house, and in each hand, I had a large doll, as if we had been walking holding hands. Not a hard doll but a soft one with a round happy face. Everything about them was soft and cuddly. They were huggy dolls; well, that is what I called them. They were the kind of dolls that you could hug and never get a scratch.
All three of them were standing there expectantly looking at me when I walked into the house, holding a doll in each hand, like they were kids.
"Jane, Julie, these two little girls wanted to come home with me once they learned that you two were living here, so I agreed. I am sure they would love to play with you," I said from a kneeling position and in a very soft voice. I had learned their names from my daughters, so I used them. Once I heard their story, I completely understood.
"What are their names?" Julie, the youngest, asked.
"I don't know, precious. They told me that they would only talk to you from now on, so you will have to ask them," I said as I held both dolls out.
Jane and Julie walked slowly toward me, looking back and forth at their mother at least ten times in not as many feet. Then the little hands went out, and the dolls were gone, each into the arms of an enchanted child. The girls even decided who would get which doll, and they did it without saying a word.
It reminded me of young monkeys that reach out to touch something and then, finally letting go of mother, run over and grab something, but realizing that they were away from mom, went running back.
They ran to their mother but looked out from behind her, smiling and cuddling their new dolls.
Sometimes life is good, and at other times, it is very good.
Me, I was born a year too early. You see, I was born in 1953, and because of that, I was eighteen in 1971. Why is that bad? That was the last year of the draft, and in 1971, I was drafted and got to play in South East Asia. It was not all that bad if you didn't mind getting shot at and hit a few times, and all that other shit. I sort of minded all of it.My mother cried when I was drafted. My father cried even more. He had been in World War II and Korea. He knew what was going to happen. He was one of the "Frozen Chosin" and knew firsthand what could happen in battle. He finally got back in 1952, and I was born nine months later, hence the mistake - I was born a year too early.
So here I am, drafted into the army and not loving it. I did not have that much of a family life back home because I was sort of impulsive. Once I found out that I could actually go to school for free when I was in the Army, I was a happy camper, except for that part about people shooting at me, and hitting me, and the stabbing, and that other stuff too. That definitely cut down on the study time, and the happiness factor took a nosedive.
So by 1973, America was out of Vietnam, and I had done my two years. But I was a greedy little piggy and liked being taken care of. You know what they say about the Army. The Army is like a large giant rubber - it gives you security while you are being screwed.
Before my second year was over, I extended for two more. I did not worry much about a VRB [Variable Reenlistment Bonus] because it was shit for the infantry, but the computer guys [that was brand new then] and that type of MOS got a good one, up to ten thousand dollars tax-free, if you were in Nam when you took a burst of six [six-year enlistment] to get it. But what I did get was a stripe. I went from a Sergeant to a Staff Sergeant.
Now that kind of movement in rank in two years is unheard of today, but back then it was common. We had a lot of people in uniform and even had an instant NCO program, but it was over by then. What I got was a "blood" stripe. Someone was busted, and the local command kept the rank to give to a member of the unit - I was that member. Okay, it made me a dick to take it, but it gave me a nice bit of extra cash, better duty, and more free time. Fuck, I did not cause the guy to get busted down.
Now my time was just humping in the mud and the fucking rain, but what I really wanted was the free education. By free, I don't mean the GI bill, I mean fucking free. Yeah, I got shot a couple of times, nothing serious. Not every wound is a chest shot with half your guts spilled out. Shot twice, stabbed once, that was more than enough. I had a few medals, but nothing special. I was just like everyone else - I did not want to get killed, and I was scared shitless all the fucking time.
Well, good old Vietnam ended, and I went off to the Philippines. Not bad duty. I was twenty, and I saw Mahal, and I was in love. That is a play on words because her name means "love," and I was in her in a flash.
Now I know what you are all thinking, but you would be wrong. It was not Subic Bay, and she was not a whore. To think she was would be like thinking that every woman in Los Angeles is a whore because someone once fucked a whore in Hollywood.
When I saw Mahal, I went right up to her and told her I loved her and wanted to marry her. She looked at me and said "OK," and we went to see her father. And it was just like that too. Well, there were just a few days in between that we learned about each other.
Told you I was kind of impulsive, and so was Mahal. We were a perfect fit. I needed impulsive.
Now her daddy had other ideas. He was career Army and was not pleased that a newly minted Staff Sergeant wanted his baby girl. He wanted Mahal to be one of the first women in West Point, and I was killing that idea. Well, there were a few younger daughters, and they could go - Mahal was mine as far as I was concerned. When I saw what I wanted, I took it, and I wanted her. That is just the kind of guy I am.
Mahal and I had originally spent the day getting to know each other, and the night too, and the next day and that night. All in all, we spent 72 hours getting to know each other before we went to see daddy. Daddy was advised that she was okay each day, but not where we were, and I was on a week's leave, so it worked out.
Neither one of us were virgins, and we wanted to make sure we were compatible, and sure enough, we were. All the parts fit in all the proper places, and a few of the improper ones. We did talk some, but mostly it was moaning and panting and screaming each other's name.
Daddy was a Filipino American and a Sergeant Major to boot. He was old damn school. For our wedding, he gave me a model 1911 Springfield Armory .45. Then he held a bullet between his fingers and, showing it to me, explained that if I wanted the bullet with the gun, he would be happy to give it to me. I took a pass on the bullet but kept the .45 and his daughter.
Mahal was an Army Brat and did not mind traveling with me. As a matter of fact, we spent eight years doing just that. There was not a place we went that she did not know someone. It might have been someone she "grew up with" whose parents were in the military and was now in themselves, or a parent of a friend, or the friend of her parents. We had friends everywhere.
She knew my plans and agreed with them. Everywhere we went, we both went to school. I had to pay for her, but I was free.
Funny program they have in the Army if you are enlisted. They pay for school for you, and it is free. If you are an officer, you have to extend five years beyond your last paid-for class, but we enlisted just get a pass on that one. Plus, there are classes you can take right from the Army, and they count toward a degree too, if you get into the right school. Ultimately, in my eight years, I had classes at USC, University of South Carolina is the first USC, and Duke, UCLA, [going to one USC is enough], and in Germany and England, and a few on the West Coast, including Cal. Tech; just to name a few.
By the time my second two years was about up, I was almost had a Bachelor of Science degree in Engineering. That means it was reenlistment time, and that means I got to talk with Top. Top was the First Sergeant, an E8 [Enlisted grade 8 out of 9 Enlisted grades] with an attitude.
The year was 1975, and all sorts of great things were happening in the world. In my world, the thing that was happening was my reenlistment talk.
"You know why you are here. I want you to reenlist and help me keep my stats up. I know that as soon as you get your big-time degree, you are going to be one of those college pukes with a commission, but if you enlist with me first, at least I get the credit before you crawl your lazy ass out of here and pretend to be a gentleman and never work a day in your life," Top told me.
"Wow, you convinced me. It is patently obvious that not many humans could withstand that withering display of facts and rationale for a military career. Where do I sign?" I told him.
"Get the fuck out of my office, cheese dick," Top said.
"What do I get if I take a burst of six, Top?" I asked.
Now I had his attention.
"Why you want to do that?" Top asked. The man was fucking born suspicious. When he was born, he made his mother drop to give him 50 "good ones" and had her recite the then-recognized General Orders applicable to the Army and the ones applicable to all the branches of service, just to make sure she was good enough to be his mother.
"I want a stripe as soon as I get my degree. I don't want a butter bar [second lieutenant] or even a silver one. I want a stripe, and I want to stay infantry," I told him.
"Tell you what, Franklin. You get your degree within a year, and I will call in some favors, and we will see about that stripe," Top told me.
Now this was a leap of faith on my part. I was blowing off being an officer for the "possible" privilege of becoming a member of the senior NCO club.
The difference between a Staff Sergeant and a Platoon Sergeant/Sergeant First Class [E7] is like the difference between being a captain and a Lieutenant Colonel. Yes, you want to know about being a Major, but the step is not high enough to show the difference. There are only nine enlisted ranks, and as an E7, there would only be one step between me and the top enlisted rank. There are five steps between being a Lieutenant Colonel and a full General, so you see how high up I would be in the enlisted ranks.
I spoke to my wife about it, and she agreed. The next day, I went back in and signed the papers - I was in the Army for another six years.
Four months later, I dropped a copy of my degree and transcripts on the First Sergeant's desk.
"So fucking what?" The First Sergeant said as he stood up, grabbed the papers in his hand, lifted his leg, and ran them over his ass like he was using them for toilet paper. "Get your ass out of here, Staff Sergeant, or I will take the staff part and shove it up your ass."
I left a happy man. I told my wife, and she was happy about it too. He did not call me a "cheese dick" and used my rank to address me. Now that might not be a big thing to you, but coming from the First Sergeant, it was everything.
I did my job, and I waited, and I waited, and I waited. I did not say a word to Top about it or to anyone else. I waited five months, and then it happened - my damn stripe came down, and not through channels either. There was no promotion board with Department of the Army running things. It was just one set of orders, with no fanfare or anything else. They were just there.
The Battalion commander came into the company area and promoted me. While it would be standard for the company commander to promote up to Staff Sergeant, a promotion in a non-combat area to that rank is pretty important, so the battalion commander did it.
Usually, there would be a party and all of that, but it happened just that fast. The only people there were my wife and some members of the company and battalion staff.
I was handed transfer orders at the same time, and I was off to Germany to "soldier" during the cold war.And let me tell you they sure as hell "soldier" in Germany.
I did take a minute with Top thought.
"Thanks, Top. You are a man of your word," I told him.
"I have no idea what you are talking about. And if you spread that dirty rumor about keeping my word, I will hunt you down like the lying dog you are," the First Sergeant said.
Then he smiled and shook my hand. We stayed friends until he died a few years back.
They had to move me quickly so that no one would wonder how I got promoted without a promotion board. To the new posting, I would be an E7, and no one would think about it.
In 1977, we had the first of two beautiful daughters. The first was Susan. Yes, I know, but my wife did not want anything ethnic.
In 1979, the second daughter came. We, that means my wife, named her Linda.
During these eight years with my bride, I got a Master's in Engineering as well as Computer Science and even managed a Ph.D. in Engineering. She got a Master's in Business Administration. She never used it, but she said she got it so I would not be married to an uneducated woman.
In 1981, I left the Army but stayed in the reserves. I was offered an E8 slot but turned it down. I could have taken it and waited an additional year and hit the reserves, but I knew the man next in line. I had a talk with him and told him and his wife that I expected him to be a Sergeant Major one day. He thanked me because the board would not meet again for a few years, and this list would expire soon. That means others might score higher next time around, and nothing is guaranteed. We were all there to celebrate when he made First Sergeant.
No, I did not make this decision on my own; I talked with my bride about it. I sure loved being married to her; she was my true partner and soul mate. She even agreed to forego the promotion when I told her why.
I liked the Army, so I stayed in the reserves except for some breaks at being active duty, and we raised our two daughters.
I have to tell you there is nothing as much fun as raising two little girls. They are cute 24/7. Little girls are devious too. Now, my bride saw through everything, and so did I, but I pretended not to and let them get away with everything and anything.
All they had to say was "Daddy" in that sweet little voice, with just a hint of question in it, and I was lost. I went into mushy daddy mode and was as pliable as mud in their hands.
During this time, we found a place we liked and settled down. It was a small, expensive but secluded group of townhouses. I got a job with a defense contractor, and while I was there, I made a few new things and got patents on them. I could tell you what they are, but then you would laugh at me. Bet you thought I was going to say I would have to kill you. During the next ten years, I got somewhere near forty patents on little things, and the government was the only buyer. I got pretty rich. Not as rich as I would have gotten if I was on my own, but I was used to being taken care of, by the job and my wife. And working with the DOD fit with my reserve time.
My father-in-law finally got his wish, a daughter in Hudson High, and she got a commission in the Army but not in a combat arms. She was a lawyer of all things and was in the Judge Advocate's Office. She finally made General and then got out but stayed in the reserves as a General Officer and did some high-profile military cases but much later in her career. To kill time, she got appointed as a state judge.
So, I had two sisters-in-law that became lawyers and a father-in-law that no longer wanted to give me that .45 bullet. Life was pretty good.
Two weeks a year, I played soldier in the infantry, and one weekend a month, I attended drill. Life was sweet. My wife and little girls liked me in my uniform as much as I liked wearing it.
I went to dance recitals, and ballet lessons and bought barrettes, and small little pink shoes and cute dresses. That was the good years. Then they got older and became big girls and needed things like bras and bikinis, and I also got a new gun for the boys that would be on their way soon.
President Reagan sent me to Grenada for a few months, and I spent some time in the Middle East for a few months. I was never shot at in the Middle East, but I trained with a number of Saudi Princes; are they all fucking Princes? Grenada got me a star on my Combat Infantryman's Badge (CIB). I remembered that in Vietnam, we had these old-timers with two stars on theirs, WWII, Korea, and Nam. Now, I had one star on mine.
In 1989, I was in for a few months of training, and damn if Operation Just Cause did not hit, and so I went to Panama for a month or two. My CIB now rated two stars.
Then a fool named Saddam Hussein decided to take over Kuwait, and I was called up again. We rocked and rolled and locked and loaded, and in one hundred hours of actual combat, kicked his ass back into Iraq. We did not finish the job; that would come a decade later, but all in all, it was a sweet little war, at least for those of us that came back alive.
Ole "Stormin' Norman" Schwarzkopf ran a pretty nice little war. He ran us around the desert for months with General Powell as the theater commander, but in the end, the war was over before it started.
Of course, I was away for much longer than one hundred hours. By that time, I was kicking forty in the ass, and I was offered a commission to Major. I did not want the demotion, so I said no.
About a month later, I was promoted to Master Sergeant. I got a call from the Sergeant Major assigned to a high-ranking General in the Saudi Arabia Theater of operations, which is where I was.
"Here is the stripe I owe you, Master Sergeant," I was told by the man I stepped out of the way for so he could make Master Sergeant ten years prior. He was now a Sergeant Major with many years in grade. Good things seem to come back to you.
I told my bride, and she laughed too. We invited them to visit, and they did. We had a good month with them after the "war" was over. You got thirty days leave when you come back from a war zone to decompress. I also got a third star for my CIB.
The kids were doing great. It was 1991, and they were twelve and fourteen, and truth be known, my bride had to deal with them and those hormones; I could not handle that. They would have looked at me with those big eyes, said "Daddy," and anything they wanted would have been theirs, except allowing them to date before they were thirty-five. A firm hand was needed, and I was not it, never was.
Three women in the house, and you know they synchronize, so seven days out of every month was hell no matter where I looked. Hell, I still loved it.
They might have been crazy as kids, but they were still good kids. Ten years later, it was 2001, and all hell broke loose. This was not some little war someplace; we were in a world war unlike any we had been in before.
Every country had someone that was shooting at us, and then the country would say shit like, "well, we did not do it, it was someone else." Well, yeah, fuckers, but they live in your damn house, so we might as fucking well blow it up. Don't want your wife and kids to get hurt, don't let terrorists live with you.
We broke a lot of things and made one hell of a lot of widows and orphans. That was the easy part; living with it, well, that sucked. I went from Afghanistan to Iraq and a few places we were never officially in. Got another star for the CIB.
As a Master Sergeant, I was assigned to a brigade, as is the custom, but I also hit the field when I could. But I was an old man compared to the kids out there, and I would only be in the way most of the time. Frankly, I wanted some of the action, but I did not tell the wife that.
The year was 2005, and I was over playing in the sandbox when I got the news. In 24 hours, I was home. I called in every favor I had, and I mean every favor.
My bride, my joy and my life, was dying. They had found the cancer too late, and there was nothing they could do about it. She opted for no treatment, and I opted to not leave her side.
Thirty days later, she left me. Less than thirty days after her leaving me, I was alone back in the sandbox. I was lost except when I was in a war. The boys needed me, and it kept my mind occupied to have to think about them instead of me.
My girls had husbands and children to worry about and did not need me to worry about them or them to worry about me. In a war, I got to worry about the young boys and girls that were in my command. Yes, I did say my command, even though I was not their commander.
Still, every night, I saw her, my bride, right where I first met her, when I told her I wanted her to marry me. Each time I saw her, she smiled and waved at me and turned and walked away. Each time she turned to walk away, I tried to run after her, to call to her, but my feet would not move; they were stuck to the ground. My mouth moved, but no sound came out. I would wake up, wanting to cry, and then I remembered that I was needed by the troops, and I put the dream out of my head and went on with what I called life.
She had been walking away every night for two and a half years when I came home to find it occupied. It really did not matter where I was; the dreams were nightly. If I slept, I dreamed the dream.
After the little angels got their dolls, I walked upstairs and started tossing the old sheets off the bed in the master bedroom. I wanted nice fresh ones.
As I put them on, she spoke to me.
"But you, you can't sleep here!" Jenny said. "Where will we sleep?"
"Well, Jenny, you and your little girls are in my home, and in my home, I am the master, and the master sleeps in the master bedroom and in the master's bed," I told her.
I had learned her name from my daughters, since she never did answer my question about who the hell she was.Maybe she did, and I did not hear her.
"There is a very nice guest room, and in a few days, I will turn the third bedroom back into a bedroom from an office. But for tonight, you three sleep in the guest room. My house, my master bedroom, my bed, and this is where I sleep every night I am here," I told Jenny.
"Now, it has been a long three days for me, and I need to get to sleep. I need a long shower, so tell the girls to take their baths now because I plan to run the water down," I told a shocked mother of two.
Ten minutes later, I was in the shower. I never took long showers, and the other bathrooms had their own water heater, but I was tired of this shit and wanted to screw with her head a little. Okay, it was not nice, but I was tired.
I was not all that dirty since I took a shower at the base when I did my shopping, but there is just something nice about being fresh out of a shower, freshly shaved, teeth brushed, and into a newly made clean bed. Damn, it felt good. I was a contented man, well, almost. I was asleep in no time at all.
I am not sure how long I was asleep when I woke up and heard it.
"I can't sleep in that little bed with those two. There is not enough room. Now, we are adults, and I am sure that we can act like adults," Jenny said as she slid into the bed. "You just sleep there on your side, and I will sleep on this side, and - - -" and that was all Jenny got out of her mouth when it happened.
"The next thing I realized during my little well-rehearsed statement was that I was on my back, my granny nightgown was up around my waist, my legs were apart, and he was between them. Not just between them, but naked between them, and he was hard. I know he was hard because he was pushing that nasty thing into my vagina," Jenny thought.
"In my house, you are a guest, in my bedroom, and in my bed, you are just mine," Franklin told Jenny.
His hands were moving my nightgown higher. His hands were sliding over my body, and his lips locked onto mine. His tongue slid into my mouth about the same time as his penis head actually split my vagina open and poked itself inside for a look around.
I shook my head and said, "No."
"Then get up and leave," he told me, briefly breaking the kiss and then returning to my lips.
"I can't exactly do that right now, you have a death grip on both my breasts, and I bet you have at least four inches of penis inside of my vagina. How the hell do I get up?" I asked with more than a little difficulty as he kept his mouth locked to mine, and his tongue had somehow left his mouth and was making a home playing tag with my tongue in my mouth.
Then he stopped and moved, and as I continued talking, he was now actually nibbling on a nipple. For some reason, my nipples had gotten very fat and excited. The man was a pig.
"First, we need to communicate in the same language," he said between nipple nibbles. "You don't have breasts, I have breasts, or tits or fun bags, but whatever you call them, they're mine, I only let you carry them around for me. It is not a penis. Little boys have a penis; when you try to explain sex to children, it is a penis. Your husband, the jerk, has a penis; probably because it is the size of a little boy's, but for other reasons too. I have a cock. And you might have a vagina, but it is mine now, and it is a pussy or a kitty or furry clam, or even a taco, for reasons that will become apparent later, or any other cute name you like, but it is not 'a vagina' or 'your vagina', it is my pussy and my kitty, my little clam shell, but like those sexy breasts, I only let you carry it around for me," the old fart said.
"Look at it this way," he said. "If your pussy was not dripping and hot, and your legs not spread out, my cock would not be where it is. If you did not want this, it would be like sandpaper inside of you. So, you want this, even if you don't realize it, your body sure as hell does. That makes 'your' pussy my pussy. And your nipples could not poke out any further if you put an ice cube on them. So, don't tell me some shit about not wanting this," he told me.
"And damn, you are tight. Isn't anyone using this little furry kitty of yours?" He finished. Well, he was finished talking, but definitely not finished the other repulsive things he was doing to me.
"Not for more than seven years," Jenny said with a bit of a sniffle. "Not since before my baby girl was born."
"Well, let's take her out for a little test drive, and if she still works okay, we can take her out and open her up and see what she can do," he said.
"Damn you, that is my vagin - your pussy, not a fucking car, you dirty old man," Jenny responded to him.
While I was talking, he managed to not only suck my other nipple and get my gown completely off, but he also got his scrotum - balls against my ass when he buried himself in me. What the hell was this old man thinking he was doing?
Actually, as I thought about it, he knew exactly what he was doing, and he was doing a damn fine job of it too. If he was any further inside of me, I am sure that I would have been deep-throating him from the pussy up. A few more moves and manipulations by him, and I found out I was deep-throating him from the pussy up.
This was not what I was used to when I was used to it, or I don't think it was. It was usually get on, hump me a few minutes or times, cum, him not me, and then roll off, and he went to sleep, and I got the wet spot. I was sure I was going to get the wet spot now too, but everything else was different.
"Damn, woman, that is one fine pussy you got there. Let's see what she can do if we go slow and easy and let her warm up," Franklin said as he began working me open without hurting me.
He pulled out slowly and then pushed in just as slow. I was fighting him, but all I managed to do was get my feet flat against the bed to push myself up to get away.
What I managed to push up was my hips, and I was planning to roll away, and then apparently, I was doing it at the same time he was pushing down. He completely misunderstood my goals in this exercise. So, to make myself perfectly clear, I dropped my hips down about the same time he pulled up. Seeing my chance to escape, I rose up to turn to get off the bed, and you guess it, at that same time, he was coming down back into me. The idiot did not have a clue, and we kept up this little battle for some time.
I am sure I was not doing that horrible thing back at him. I know I was really trying to get off. Well, what I mean is, I was trying to get off the bed. Well, maybe I was trying to get off, just a little. It did feel really good. I can't remember actually getting off, but I heard a lot about it from other girls and women, and maybe this was how it was supposed to happen. No, I have to get off the bed soon, real soon, maybe in the next twenty or well, thirty minutes, but I am tired, and I really need some sleep, and the girls just take up the entire bed, well, maybe I can get him to stop in the next few hours, and then I can get some sleep. Jenny rationalized to herself.
"Damn, you are one hot, sexy woman," he said as we continued our battle of misunderstandings.
"Did he just say I was a hot, sexy woman?" I thought.
"No matter, we needed to end this, and... Shit, he did say that; he said I was hot and sexy. And damn, he feels good on my tits. He feels and touches every inch of me, and he had strong, rough but not calloused hands. When he squeezes my - his breasts, my nipples puff way out, and he knows what to do then too. He did not have feminine hands like a man who takes too much care of himself; this is a man, an old man, but sure as hell is a real man," I think to myself. "Damn, he thinks I am hot and sexy.
"No, I can't allow myself to get carried away. I really need to get off and get some sleep. I mean, I really need to get him off so I can get some sleep. This is not coming out right. I really need to get him off of me and get some sleep. Well, maybe the other two options first, then the third one. Okay, that works for me.
"I am still moving to fight him off. I push against his body and even hit him and run my fingernails over his body and scratch him. He does not have a lot of fat on him, this nasty old bastard. I scratch him to make him stop, and he does, he buries that old cock in me and actually lifts my legs, bending them back, and it goes in even further.
"He is surprisingly gentle in his pounding, if that is possible.
"We are fighting. Pushing and pulling, sucking and biting and scratching, and then it happened.
"I am not sure why, but all of a sudden, I go into a spastic shaking. I look like one of those fish out of water flopping around, but I can tell that my pussy has his cock in a vice-like pulsing grip, but he keeps up that slow pumping. My head is rolling back and forth, my tongue is wiggling around out of my mouth, I can't get my breath, my arms are flopping out to my sides, maybe I am having a stroke. I push my open mouth over his, and I want to yell for him to stop, but I am so upset that it comes out as:
"Oh God, Yes," I scream into his mouth as he French kisses me, again misinterpreting why I put my mouth over his.
"I break away and bite him as hard as I can on the shoulder, and he sucks on my neck and gives me some very hard, short strokes, which caused me to scream into the bite and move away and kiss him, just to get him away from my neck.
"This has to stop soon. I mean, I can't take more than just a few more hours of this. I am, after all, a married woman. Not happily married, but I am married. If I am married, why doesn't my husband do this? Maybe he does do this, but he does not do it with me. Okay, this has to end by sunrise, and there is no excuse for it going beyond six or maybe seven o'clock in the morning.
"My tongue in his mouth, I bite his lips, and he pounds into me even faster. I can't quit cuming.I can't believe how long I cum, and just when I am running out of energy, I get an energy spurt.
"Even though he is pounding into me, I can tell he is not actually pounding deep inside of me. When he gets close to the bottom of his stroke, he seems to slow down just a bit and then pushed that fat bloated head against me and squishes it around some, and then does it again. Actually, it feels pretty good.
"Well, that energy spurt hits me. Not exactly a spurt, more like a squirt. Actually, it is not energy; it is a blast of hot cum deep inside my pussy. Then it hits me again that I am committing adultery, that I have a man fucking me and I am having one orgasm after another and then a huge one as he cums inside of me. This man is not my husband. He is cumming inside of me! I am an adulteress. I have committed adultery. I am so ashamed I want him to stop, soon, maybe not too soon, but real soon, I guess, if he does not stop by at least nine o'clock in the morning, I will have to make him stop. After all, I have my limits. I am a married woman!" I think to myself.
"You came in me," I said, breaking the kiss. "Do you have protection?" I asked with hope but fear at what this old man might say. Maybe he has had a vasectomy and I am safe.
He smiles down at me. I can see his lip has a drop of blood on it, and I know I have torn his back up with my nails, and that cock is still inside of me, but he moves.
"Sure do, baby. The best protection a man can have," he says.
I let out a sigh of relief.
He reached into the bed stand and pulls it out.
"A model 1911 Springfield Armory 45, the best protection a man can have," he says with a smile.
"Well, now we know that everything works, let's take that pussy out and see what she can do if we really open her up," he said.
By this time, he was out of me, and his cock was soft.
"Suck this bad boy for me, gorgeous, and get him good and hard, and I will give you a first-class ride," he said.
"You have to be fucking crazy, old man. I am not going to put that into my mouth. You just fucked me with that thing, and not only that, but you pee through it. That old, whatever you call it, is nasty. No way, old man; that is not going to happen," I told him with a clenched teeth whisper.
He pulled me down to the middle of the bed and put his cock near my face. I shook my head no and kept my lips closed and teeth clenched. I remembered that old biblical passage. "My jaw I set like flint" or something like that.
He slid that nasty thing over my lips and then sort of pushed between my lips. Despite my best efforts, my reflexes caused my tongue to snake out to lick away the slime. Okay, maybe I gave that head a little lick too, and maybe just a hint of a suck right at the hole, after all, it was there and wet. Well, when I did it, that worm went into my mouth a little, and he pulled my head into his stomach, and there it was, inside my mouth. It was not hard, but it was getting heavy enough to get inside of me. Maybe I should not have opened my mouth to say "No," and licking was definitely a mistake. Well, that is water under the bridge, it is there now, and there is nothing I can do about it.
So now I have a cock slick with my own pussy, oops, his pussy, and his cum inside of my mouth, and I could feel it was expanding.
"What the hell do I get out of this?" I asked with a mouth full of cock and cum. I am surprised he could understand me.
That is when he smiled and answered me.
"This!" He said. He bent down and put his face between my legs. They opened like someone had pushed the handicapped button on the side of a door for a public building.
I had wanted my husband to do this so many times, but he said it was just nasty. Husband? I am married! I have a husband! I have to make this old man stop and soon. The first lick and the first suck on my clit, and I am open like a frog on a dissection table. He has to stop soon, well, pretty soon, maybe not too soon. I mean, it has already happened, and he did already fuck me, so really, when you think about it, how soon is soon enough? I mean, later is just as good as sooner, when you really think about it. I mean, this is only his tongue, it is not like it is his cock, and he is really only giving me a cleaning, oh well, it does feel tingly.
Now I know what the girls are talking about. This feels really nice. Even better than nice.
While I was having this little debate in my head, my body was pulling his face into my cum-filled furry kitty, my tongue was sliding all over that cum-slick cock, and it was getting even bigger.
Now I did not even know it was happening, but somehow another few orgasms managed to sneak up on me. I loved it. I had my first cock orgasm and my first mouth orgasm.
Well, his cock was getting far too hard and big for my mouth, so as he ran his tongue and lips over my, damn, I mean his, engorged pussy lips, caused me to do the same to his cock helmet. He would suck my clit, and I would suck and lick the head of his cock and even nibble on it.
I knew from experience that my pussy lips were getting bigger and were opening even more. Now I understood. Piece of old shit was eating his taco, or is that a hairy clam?
He would lick my lips and slide his tongue into me, yuck, and I would slide my tongue all over his cock and maybe suck a little at the hole. I remembered what I heard the girls talking about, so I just did that. I even rubbed that nasty thing all over my face, like I really wanted that slime that was leaking from the head all over my face, so when it was really flowing, I gave the head a good long suck or two. Well, maybe I did, just a tiny bit, think it was hot to have some cock tracks on my face. He would have to see what his contemptible use of my body had resulted in when he kissed me again, if he only would.
I did have to admit that his tongue and lips and his caresses and sucking sure felt better than my own fingers down there. Now he was rubbing his face in my not-too-hairy pussy. It was hairy, but sparse, and the hair was fine and soft. I kept it trimmed enough for a bathing suit and always put hair conditioner on it. It could have been because I was holding the back of his head and moving it all around his kitty that he got all that stuff from me on his face.
"If this is your furry kitty, your pussy, your taco, then you clean it, old man. Make sure you get it all, inside too. If I have to eat your and my cum, you better be ready to do the same for me," I thought. That would teach him.
The only problem with this, as a means of punishing my corrupter, was that he appeared to like doing it just a little too much. Appearances can be deceiving though. Maybe he was just fooling me as he had his arms back around both my thighs, pulling me into him as I pushed him and his probing tongue deeper into me.
I thought maybe we should stop pretty soon, and when I finally opened my legs and released his head, that old man did not stop or even slow down.
About the time I wanted to die from embarrassment at the fool he was making of himself, he stopped.
He stopped and spun around, and the next thing I knew, he was back inside of me with that fat long cock.
It went in even easier this time than the first time. I was definitely stretched out, and now that I was full of his cum and my own juices were pouring out of me, he went in pretty easy.
Now he was pounding me harder than before. Of course, his face and mouth had that disgusting smell and taste of male cum and pussy cum on it. My hands were occupied with scratching his back and pulling his ass into me with my claws. So what if I was confused, and I was pulling him deeply into me and holding him there? To clean that disgusting smell and taste off, I had to use what was available, my mouth and tongue.
He must have gotten the wrong idea again as my lips and tongue got all of that taste away from me because he did not stop rubbing my body. He must have thought I wanted him to continue, but I really didn't want him to stop, I mean continue.
Then his tongue, which had been punished by having to clean my own face, went into my mouth, so I had to suck that clean too. After all, I knew exactly where it had been and what it had been doing, and it was just too disgusting. As far as I was concerned, this old piece of shit was not going to do that to me ever again; well, not more than five or ten times again; but definitely never more than twenty times; tonight.
I somehow managed to get my feet around his back in the classic wrestling defensive move, but again, he misunderstood the meaning and just bounced into me like a basketball in the hands of a Harlem Globetrotter as they played "Sweet Georgia Brown."
Well, I showed him, I pulled his ears, moving his face close to mine, and I stuck my tongue into his mouth! Let's see how he likes a little turn about. The animal sucked my tongue like it was my clit; damn, his clit. I keep forgetting that part. I was so into payback that I did not realize until it was too late that the thing my body was doing; well, it was doing it again.
Fuck, all that pounding just pushed me over the edge, and to protect my babies from running in when I screamed, I bit the other side of his neck. He pulled away and squeezing both breasts began to bite the nipples, but not nearly as hard as I did to him. He must be some wimp; he can't even bite hard.
Well, far be it from me to tell him he does not know how to bite my nipples hard enough. He was just going to be lost in his own inadequacies when it came to my, damn, his breasts. I sure as hell was not going to make this any easier for him, I thought as I began to flop all around again as he nibbled, licked, and then sucked my nipples like a Hoover vacuum cleaner. Evidently, I may have just been a little off in describing his inadequacies when it came to my breasts, damn, his tits.I have to remember that they are his tits now. If I had not had his cock in me, I am sure I would have cum from the way he worked his tits. The pig!
"Too much noise," I managed to say as another orgasm ripped through my body. I was trying to tell him about the pounding noise the bed was making when he was banging into me.
Now most men would have figured out the noise part on their own, but not this old fool. He heard it and did not care. But in one way he was pretty good - he slowed down, but the pervert did not stop sliding that fat thing in and out of me. Okay, he was pretty good in a number of ways, but I am a lady and a married lady, and I don't think I want to get into a discussion about his eating my, damn, his pussy and playing with his tits.
Then he rolled me on top of him and sat me up on his cock. Now he could see me. He could see those ten, okay twenty, or more, extra pounds. He could see my breasts no longer firm and my no longer taut stomach with their now pale and fading stretch marks. He could see all of my thirty, thirty-five, okay not forty, years. I am definitely NOT forty, and I do not have a forty-year-old body BECAUSE I AM NOT FORTY! Yet.
"Are you happy now, you smutty old man?" I taunted.
"Not yet, but I am closer than I was a while back," he said with a smile.
Now I could see his chest. Not exactly chiseled, but definitely cut. He was muscular in a strong way. No bulging muscles, but it looked like thick rope or cable running through it. His face was still young-looking despite his years, taut and firm, and he was tan all over, except where his bathing suit would be, if he had one on.
What he had on was definitely not a bathing suit, and it was more "in" than "on." Well, he did have something on - he had a "hard on," but I almost bet there was no way in hell he was going to swim with that thing, unless he was swimming on his back. Maybe he could use it to rig a sail?
He was smiling as his hands ran up my thighs, over my pussy, and across my stomach. I had a little extra - softness, there. It was not like some Roman Breastplate armor thing, with the part hanging down in front, but not rock hard, not like him.
Old bastard had a six-pack. Well, I was pissed now, so I began to punish him by pumping, I mean jumping, up and down on him. That will show him!
From my stomach, he moved to my breasts, my small breasts. I mean, they did not hang like some fifty-year-old African picture of a bush woman, but they were far from high and firm.
"God, you are beautiful," he said to me.
"He called me beautiful," I thought again.
He bent forward and kissed and sucked my breasts, and pulled on the nipples with his sucking lips; they popped out of his mouth when he lay back down.
Well, the least I could do was bend down so he could suck on them; it seemed good manners. My parents taught me to always have manners and pass the food when you had a guest at the table. Well, it was not a table, and maybe he was not a guest, but I'll be damned if I was going to let that stop me from having the best possible manners under difficult circumstances. Of course, when I did that, I just happened to move like a jockey astride a mount, except what I was mounted on was not moving forward, it was not moving at all, well maybe just a little up and down thing he was doing, and I was moving my ass up and down on that dirty thing that he forced me to suck.
Now I was on top. I pulled my breasts away from him and, taking a page from his playbook, I moved my mouth to his. His hands found my ass and began to knead the soft flesh as I fucked his mouth with my tongue. He pulled on my nipples with the tips of his fingers, wow. His nails were short, that was a relief. His hands roamed my backside, and then a finger touched my brown exit, and of course the bastard made me cum again, and I fell forward onto him, and he took the opportunity to defile my marriage again by shooting more of his contemptible male seed into me. I think I passed out at my own disgust as I flopped around again.
When I woke up, he was stroking my hair and singing the chorus of that song, "Baby I Can Drive Your Car." Okay, he changed the words, but it was cute. No, it was not cute, it was perverse and ugly and nasty, and I would have told him so if I had not reached up and pulled his lips to mine and stuck my tongue into his mouth to make him stop. I am sure that is why I did it, to make him stop singing.
Well, I was done in, and then I got an even bigger surprise.
"Suck it hard again; I want to sleep with my cock inside of you," he told me.
I spun around to suck it in and pushed my hairy pussy back into his face. Okay, it's his hairy pussy now. I was not all that hairy, but damn if I was not just full of his juices. That pig, that dirty old bastard, actually started kissing the furry kitty again, so I had to suck his cock hard. I am a fair woman, and it seemed only fair. Anyone who knows me knows I am a fair person, and now he does too.
Soon as he was hard, he pulled me to him, and as he lay flat on his back, he pulled my leg over his abdomen and pushed that horrible male appendage back into me. Then he put his arms around me and kissed me, and I had to clean that sickening stuff off his face with my tongue and lips and suck it out of his mouth too. We are back to fairness again, and it seemed only fair. I did not have a napkin for him, so, well, I am sure you understand.
He turned a little in my direction, but I was still lying with my leg over his and a little on top of him.
He probably was only into it for his own satisfaction, but it sure felt a lot like cuddling after sex. I mean, I have never done it before, but if I did, this is what it would probably feel like, except that, that, thing was inside of me.
He just keeps rocking it back and forth, just a little, but just enough so that
"Oh My God"
He made me do it again. The pig seems to get enjoyment in torturing me.
This time he did not cum.
"I love to sleep with my cock inside of my woman. I will not stay hard all night, but my body will move back and forth to keep me heavy, and you might find you enjoy it," the disgusting male pig said. He was obviously enjoying taking advantage of me and the situation I was in.
Well, I sure as hell was not going to enjoy it. I mean, what kind of woman would I be if I enjoyed being ravished over and over by some geriatric has-been, after going seven years without any sex at all? And I don't care if I no longer have any wrinkles inside of my pussy with that fat thing inside of me; I am not going to ever have that feeling.
"Fuck! Holy shit! Not again!" I screamed inside my own thoughts, just before I passed out.
It was early in the morning, and I awoke to the sounds of my babies screaming. He was not in bed.
I ran to the sound of the screams. I arrived to see every mother's worst nightmare. My baby, Julie, was standing on a stool and covered in a white powder and had her hands on a table, and she was screaming.
Jane, her older sister, was running around the kitchen screaming. That old man was throwing something at them that made my babies scream.
I saw what it was. Pancakes? Small pancakes? He was throwing small pancakes at them. No, not at them, to them. What difference did it make, my babies were screaming?
It was now evident that he was torturing my babies with pancakes, the little silver dollar ones. That brute.
The kitchen looked like a hurricane had passed through. It was a nightmare, every woman's nightmare; a man in the kitchen, screaming children, and food all over the place except on the plates.
He was throwing pancakes up in the air, and Jane was trying to catch them on a plate, and each toss resulted in cries and shrill screams from each of my girls.
The pig was laughing at my girls, and they were laughing back and screeching like little girls do. I hated him. But he did look nice in that t-shirt. So what, he was torturing my babies.
If it had not been for the total destruction of the kitchen, it would actually have been a very touching site. My husband never played with the girls; he thought female babies were inferior and unless they were boys, he did not care to even look at them or hear them.
My husband felt that females were only good for fucking to make boy babies. If he could, he would only have boy babies born; he once told me. First, he was not all that hot in the sack, and the obvious end to what passed for logic was all boy babies would sort of prevent anyone fucking anyone and making babies.
Well, all these happy memories suddenly came to a halt when Jane and Julie pointed at me while still screaming, but the screams were different, and all I heard was the words "Mom" and "clothes."
Looking down, I discovered that I was not wearing clothes or anything else, not even a robe. Okay, I had my birthday suit on, and that was it. Then I screamed. The girls screamed even louder again. That old bastard started laughing, very loudly too. That pig has no manners at all. My girls started laughing. I would have to teach them manners. I turned my naked ass to the girls and that nasty creep, and covering my bottom with one hand and holding my bouncing tits with the other, I ran like the wind upstairs and jumped back into bed and hid under the covers.
Then the old man came up.
"It's okay," he said as he held me and rubbed my back. "I told them you were probably getting into the shower when you heard them yell, and you were so concerned that you ran down without thinking to put anything on.
"They have no idea that we spend the night test-driving the - - car; putting her through her paces," he said with a smile. My seducer actually smiled, thinking of his defilement of me. What a dog.
"Come downstairs and have breakfast," he said softly and left.I laid in bed thinking about the last night. The night I became an adulteress. The night I allowed that huge flesh tube into my body. Why wasn't I sore? I heard that big ones like that make you sore, so why wasn't I sore. I knew I was stretched pretty wide, I saw the implement of that up close but he managed to do everything he did and not hurt me. I am still an adulteress. I am a very horny adulteress but still an adulteress.
Well, I was hungry, so I slowly and with much humbleness, found my way down to the kitchen. My babies looked at me and then started laughing.
The white stuff was explained with the words from Julie.
"We are having pizza tonight, and I am making the pizza stuff."
She probably had more flour on her and the floor than ten pizzas would need, and while all this was going on, that dirty old man just stood there smiling.
He handed me an empty plate and said, "Catch," and with his back to me, he flipped three silver dollar pancakes in my direction. I caught one; two landed on the floor. The girls screamed.
Then he poured more batter onto the two large griddles on the oven top. I did not eat; I just watched, and as they bubbled, he flipped each over, and then, about sixty seconds later, he grabbed a plate himself and started flipping them into the air, one right after another as fast as he could.
This time he caught every one of them, and more than two dozen of the little flat things hit that large plate he was holding.
We were all laughing as he put six on each clean plate and with butter between each one and strawberry syrup over the top, he placed them onto the counter.
Now Julie was still "mixing" the "pizza stuff" for the pizza, so he fed her. My husband would never do that. He gave her a little bite, and she took it with a smile and started chewing while working the dough. Before she finished, he offered her another bite, and still with some still in her mouth, she took it. He kept doing it, and soon she was shaking her head "No," so he pinched her nose, and she opened her mouth, and in went another bite. Before long, she looked like a chipmunk with a mouth full of nuts and strawberry syrup all over her face.
We were all laughing so hard, even Julie and that dirty old man.
Julie was full, but even with a face full of food, you could tell she was smiling and trying not to laugh and spit it all out. It was a losing battle, and I knew it, and so did that asshole.
When Julie finally could not hold it any longer, she spit it out and then froze, waiting for the yelling and recriminations.
That pig had caught it in his hand. It was not all that nasty, but he did it like it was nothing. Then, laughing, he walked to the sink and rinsed it into the side with the disposal. He was laughing as he walked back, but we were all frozen in fear, waiting for the anger. If it had been that asshole husband, he would have been mad and yelling like a crazy man.
Wait, that asshole is this old man, no, it is my husband. Yes, the asshole is my husband, now I have it right.
He picked up another piece of pancake for Julie, but she shook her head no, but with one hand making a pinching movement with the forefinger and thumb, letting her know she would open up one way or another, she began to laugh, and he put another small fork of food into her.
By this time, we were all laughing like crazy. Then Julie screamed and ran into the bathroom. I knew what happened, and so did Jane, and the pig. Jane immediately followed, running upstairs. To laugh so hard you have to pee is a damn good laugh.
Not once did he speak harshly to the girls or to me. I could tell he was really happy with them and me.
We finally finished eating, and Franklin managed to send Jane and Julie up to get clean, and I went with them. They took baths, and I got them clean, and I told them I was going to take one now since it had been interrupted, and I headed off to "that man's" room, where I still had clothes from before he came home. To hell with him, he had an empty closet, and I needed the space. He would just have to live with a woman sharing his closet.
I could hear the shower running when I came in and closed the door. I just dropped my robe, and he was there, facing me. That thing that gave me such pleasure was suddenly standing out to greet the new me.
I grabbed that giver of pain and pleasure with my hands and began to stroke it as he looked at me with a smile.
"Is this thing always hard?" I asked.
"Around you, it is," he replied.
I looked down, and on my left hand, I was still wearing my wedding and engagement rings. I was married, and this was the evidence of my fidelity/infidelity and my being possessed by another man, and not my husband. I dropped my right hand and continued to stroke him with my ring hand.
Then I lifted my leg and, rubbing that hard head against my furry slit with the hand that held my rings, I parted my own lips and inserted him inside of me.
I put my arms around him, and he grabbed the other leg and lifted me into the air and then down onto him and fully into me.
His muscles were tight, holding me up, but he was not straining. I could feel his back was still cut with my claw marks. I kissed his neck. And then I lovingly shared kisses with his face.
I had a couple of nice small orgasms, and then he said two things that surprised me. The first was we were in a hurry and that he would cum later. The second one was an even bigger surprise. He said we had to get ready because he had promised to take the girls to the zoo.
Damn if he did not lift me off that wonderful male appendage of his, and I felt somehow empty and alone when it was gone. It slowly went down, although reluctantly. Every time he looked at me, it started to rise to the occasion.
He kissed me and smiled. I reached for him, okay, I reached for his cock, and he backed away, smiling.
He washed me, and then I washed him. I did give that fat little head a nice kiss, but nothing more. He shaved in the shower.
He was hard again. I put my hands on the sink and bent forward.
"Look at me in the mirror," I told him.
As he did, I backed up and inserted him into me.
"Now take your pussy for a quick quarter mile run, we can do longer ones later, we both need this," I said to him.
It was still a good five minutes, and I saw the pleasure in his eyes as he looked at me. We never looked away from each other. I saw the pleasure he got as his hands traveled my body. The pleasure in his eyes matched the pleasure I felt as he caressed my stomach and then up to his breasts, the breasts he knew better than my husband did. I saw the tenderness as he kissed my neck and my ear.
I saw the passion rise as he moved his, now my dirty old cock, into his pussy. I would claim it now as mine. My cock was not porn star size, but it sure as hell was more than a handful or a mouthful, and more than enough to stretch and massage every inch of his previously rarely used pussy. We had traded body parts as far as I was concerned. We came together. I reached for my panties and pulled them up.
"I want to feel you inside of me all day," I told him.
I then went to get dressed. My clothes were still in his closet.
Then I realized that I was still not sore or hurt, and I know he smoothed every wrinkle in my - oops - giggle giggle - his pussy. Wow, the man knew how to fuck and not hurt.
He came out and put on some boxers and Levi's and a shirt. His jewelry box was almost empty, but it did hold a plain gold band, which he put on. He smiled at me, seeing the look on my face.
I will never know why, but I was happy that he looked from that band to me and back and then took it off and kissed it and put it back into the box and closed the lid.
I looked at the bands on my hand. I took them off and dropped them into the trash can.
I saw the uniform that hung in the closet, and although not freshly cleaned, it was not dirty. It bore the look of extended travel. He took it out and, after removing a half dozen pins and caps from the back, took all the ribbons off from a single block. There was a little metal rifle with stars on it and round badges. One was a thing that looked like a pumpkin, and it said "This We'll Defend," and cross rifles with stars, and all sorts of little things pinned to it.
There were a lot of ribbons. He called them "I was there" ribbons. He laughed and said it only means he was there while others did the hard work. I did not believe him.
It was time, and we all went down and got into his car. It was what I would expect, it was an SUV, but after we got everyone in and belted down, we drove off. We stopped at the cleaners and dropped off his uniform. I did not realize until we had been driving for about twenty minutes that I did not hear anything. When I asked why, he said it was all electric, and he had charged it during the night.
At the zoo, there was a free electric car charging station. No one was using it, and he laughed and said it was free, unless you counted the millions the politicians spent of our tax dollars to put it there.
We had a great time at the zoo. This gruff soldier who scared the hell out of us last night and then just took me later that evening had a surprisingly easy way about how he interacted with my daughters. The soldier was gone, and in his place was a loving father, who had been through all of this before.
And pictures, he took pictures of everyone and everything. Happy pictures, silly pictures, but hundreds of pictures. Pictures of him and the smiling girls and pictures of the girls and me. We even had people take pictures of all four of us and comment that we were lucky to have such a lovely family. It was just lucky that phone of his had a camera on it and had a lot of room for pictures.
I could tell that the playing this morning was real and not forced or contrived.He actually liked being around them. Well, he did raise two daughters, and they spoke highly of their father when we talked before all this unpleasantness that caused me to move out of my own home.
As we walked, I told him about my husband and how he rejected his own girls. Franklin reminded me that those same girls played with his own granddaughters and that he had already raised two daughters through Jane and Julie's age, and except for the clothes, they did not change much.
Hot dogs, popcorn, cokes, candy, and after six hours, they were so tired he was threatening to put them into one of those strollers that looked like a frog, when Julie gave up the ghost and fell asleep in his arms as he carried her to the car. I think Jane was jealous. She then became unable to walk, and he picked her up in his other arm and carried her as she fell asleep too.
I walked behind them and saw that my manipulative little monsters were both awake and smiling like crazy, hugging his neck, while still pretending to be asleep to him as he carried one in each arm. I have never seen them looking so happy. Then I got one of Franklin as he carried them. He too was smiling, but more than that, he was content; you could see it in his face and in his eyes. Those eyes sparkled, well, now they did. I got more than a few pictures of that with his phone.
We drove home in silence, and I mean that, in silence. No one spoke. We were all lost in our own thoughts.
On the way back, I sat and looked out the window thinking.
I was thinking about this man and what had happened in less than twenty-four hours. I wanted him from the moment I saw him, but my mind and my obligations to my husband, even if he was a cheating bastard, controlled my body.
I don't think I would have done anything about him or my feeling if he had not bent down and talked so sweetly to my girls, trying to calm and reassure them. When he did that, I wanted him even more.
When he visited his daughters the same night he came home, that was a man who was a blessing to have as a father. A man who thought first of family.
The dolls damn near made me get naked and fuck him in the living room. Still, my mind said no, but my body was having one hell of a fight about it.
Then he did that bed thing. I was praying he was not going to take the small bed so I could have an excuse to go to him. I had not made up my mind, but I wanted options, and I needed options. I needed to be the one to make the decision until I was not the one to make the decision. Does that make any sense? Well, it does to me, and it is my life.
It was not an accident that I did not have panties on, and it was not an accident that I lifted my granny gown to get into bed. And it was not an accident I was dripping wet.
Yes, I was reluctant, but my body just did what it wanted to, and soon my brain, my reluctant brain, just had to follow behind nature.
Well, that was how I rationalized everything that happened, but what really happened was I fell in lust with him when I first saw him, and after he gave my girls the dolls, I was in love with the pig.
This morning with my babies, this day he spent with them, the way he acted just convinced me I was right about him.
Franklin carried Julie and Jane upstairs and put them onto the bed. I took over from there, and he went back downstairs. For almost two hours, Franklin listened as I spoke about what was going on in my life.
I have to admit that it was difficult to talk with him on the stool with his pants down and I sitting stride him with my dress up and my panties hanging on one foot. Apparently, he liked talking that way.
Why am I lying to myself? I love it this way. I was the one to walk into the room and drop my panties and pulled his Levi's down and sat on my new cock. I was the one who had the body that refused to allow an opportunity to pass when I could be joined with him. Okay, he seemed to like it too. Damn, if that dirty old man did not love it like I did.
I did find out you can have an orgasm without bobbing up and down, and yes, he can give me one just making love to my breasts, damn, his breasts.
He did say he could hear the girls long before they got to the door of their bedroom, and sure enough, he could and did. "They are awake now," he told me.
Now it was their bedroom? What did that make the other bedroom?
They came downstairs three minutes later whooping and hollering about making pizza. By then, we were dressed. He was very calm, and I felt empty.
That is what we did; we made five pizzas of different toppings, and each went into the oven at different levels. I had not paid that much attention to the oven, except to see it was a big oven.
Then he had another surprise for us. We went into the front room, and there was this large dark picture frame. It had not been there before; nothing was there before. There was not a picture in the house. The walls were stark white.
He turned it on, and before our eyes was our day at the zoo. The frame had a memory card that allowed the pictures to flash through at any speed we wanted.
"I think we should spend a few days looking at these and decide which ones we want in a real picture frame for the walls," Franklin said.
Surprised and happy as we were, it was into the Jacuzzi for us all. No swimming in the pool, just the Jacuzzi. It was getting late, and I really did not want to go, but I did. I was still ashamed of my body, but he did not appear to have a problem with it. I only had a very modest one-piece, and he did not try anything in front of the girls, but he was very affectionate; not sex-wise, but in a nice way. The girls adored him, and he showered them with attention too. They never quit smiling. They needed a father figure.
I got pictures of them together in the Jacuzzi. My babies needed to remember this happy day, and I had his phone, so why not.
The Jacuzzi fit four nicely, and after a large meal and coke, without caffeine in it, the girls were out of it for the night. He picked up both of them, and I opened the door, and he took them upstairs. They went onto their bed, and I undressed them and put them to bed. Another bath could wait until tomorrow.
"Night, mom," came from both of them. I smiled. "Night, daddy" followed. I was shocked. It was lucky he was not there to hear it.
I turned to look just to make sure he was not there to hear it. No one was there. When I looked back, the girls were not looking at the door but at the nightstand. That is where I saw it. They were saying good night to their dad. There on the nightstand was a silver frame with two pictures in it. One was the girls hugging Franklin that I took as he carried them to the car. The other was the picture of Franklin as he carried them.
I went into the bedroom, and he was walking out of the bath, freshly shaved and showered. When he saw me, he got hard and smiled.
"Give me a few minutes," I told him.
As I walked by, he was humming that Beatles tune, "Drive My Car."
He stopped me, and we kissed. I wanted him so badly, and I could feel exactly how he felt about me.
I took a shower and got good and clean. No doubt that old man would have his wicked way with me again, I thought with a smile. This would have to end soon; I could not handle more than twenty or thirty years of this.
When I came out, he was on the middle of the bed on his back, with his hands under his head. He looked at me standing there naked. Breasts no longer firm, nipples pointing more down than up or out, a few extra pounds, and more than a few extra years on my body, and he sprang up like a "jack in the box." And I do mean sprung up.
I had not decided what to do until that very moment. I knew I needed a place to stay, a place where my girls would be safe. I knew they would be safe here. I knew if I did this, we could stay for as long as needed. I also knew that it was all bullshit.
I wanted him, and I would have made up any excuse to have him. This old man, was fifteen years my senior, this man who took me last night and said I was beautiful, who reacted to me like I was some cheerleader, who treated my babies with respect and affection, I wanted him.
I walked over and just went down on him. I let my body make the moves, and soon my mouth and hands were making love to that large hard cock. My lips lolling over that bloated head, my hands up and down that shaft. I took it in, as much as I could, and used my mouth like it was a pussy on it.
Dirty old man that he was, he just lifted my leg and dove in between my thighs and did the same to me. I came off over and over. It was all so new to me.
Now I was a cocksucker by choice. I was the dreaded cocksucker, and even worse, I wanted to be a good cocksucker and have him cum in my mouth.
"I want to drink your cum, old man," I told him.
I am not sure what a whore does with her mouth to a cock, but I had more than enough practice in two days to figure it out.
I drank spurt after spurt, and if that bastard thought he was finished and was going to sleep, he was sadly mistaken. I kept sucking and licking until there was nothing left, and then I did it even more until it woke up again. Just as big and just as strong as a few minutes ago.
This time I pulled away and got into the saddle. Again, his look of admiration made my day, and my night.
"Let's really open her up and see what she can do," Franklin said.
"Damn it, Franklin, it is my, your, pussy, not a car," I replied with a smile.
I have to admit that it was one hell of a lot more than a test drive this evening. He put us both through our paces. It was more like the Indy 500 than a test drive. We were both exhausted. Then I realized that there was no noise.
"I fixed the bed," he said when he saw I realized it.
Damn, I got one hell of a fucking that night.And like last night when we were finished, I sucked him hard, and draping my leg over his, I let his hard cock slide home into my, damn I forgot again, his pussy.
Did I just think "home," in the same sentence with my pussy and his cock?" I thought to myself. Okay, now it is his pussy, but this sure as hell is my cock.
Like last night, he would rock into me in his sleep, and while not hard, he was heavy enough to rub all the best parts and give me a few more orgasms, one of which woke me up so violently that I bit him, and he woke up smiling.
"Who the hell wakes up smiling when someone is biting him?" I thought. "A man good enough to fuck an orgasm into his woman as they both slept," came my own answer to the question.
"Damn it, I just thought `his woman.' I barely know this man. Now my pussy is his `home' and I am `his woman.' Something needs to be settled here," I thought.
There I was conflicted again, for all of three seconds. I am his woman, he is my man, that is all that needs to be said.
That morning, she woke up alone. She checked on the girls, and they were asleep and well and safe. Franklin was gone.
About five o'clock, he came in looking wet and tired. He did not say much, but he was singing that Beatles song again, not all the words, but the chorus, but different.
"Baby, I can drive your car," he would say and smile, as he changed the words slightly. "Yes, you gonna be my star. Baby, I can drive your car."
Another shower, another shave and brush his teeth, for some reason I had already brushed mine, and into the arms of the other we melted.
It was getting late, so no hard pounding, no need to upset the girls. My little fiasco with coming downstairs yesterday, naked, was bad enough.
Some slow, gentle penetration, and that was enough for us both, for now, that is.
An hour later and one more shower, and he was up and out of bed. By seven, I rolled downstairs, followed by two girls.
My babies came over and gave me a hug and a kiss, and then, to my surprise, but not a big surprise after last night, did the same to Franklin. Both were followed with a "Morning," followed by plopping down, one on either side, not of me, but Franklin. He put his arms around both of them as they sat on the couch.
"We're hungry," came the refrain I was used to hearing, but it was not my ears the words were intended for, but Franklin's.
"Okay, bacon, eggs, toast, and some small little hairy caterpillars," Franklin said.
"I only want one egg, so can I have some extra caterpillars?" Julie asked with a giggle.
Franklin got up and made a show of looking for something, and then announced that he was fresh out of little hairy caterpillars. Our girls decided that a little extra toast and two eggs would satisfy now that the caterpillars were off the menu.
"Our girls?" Did I actually think "our girls?"
He made them breakfast first, with juice and milk, and then a heaping pile of bacon and even some small sausages. Each was then individually served their eggs; one got over easy, the other basted, just like they wanted.
Then he asked what I wanted, and I just had to be contrary and asked for scrambled. So he made me some scrambled, and as he did so, the toast hit the table.
The girls were ravenous, and it appeared that they had not eaten in weeks, or months.
Things were moving so quickly that it was scary, and I mean really scary.
"The eggs are wonderful, Franklin. I don't think I have ever seen our girls eat like this before," I said.
He did not react, and neither did I, but we both heard it, and maybe even the girls did. This time, I said it out loud.
Franklin left and came back with a small picture frame, and soon the pictures of us all in the Jacuzzi came up.
"What is going on, Franklin? Why all this attention to my girls?" I asked him when they were out of hearing range.
He picked up the phone and made a call, ignoring me.
"Hi, princess, it's dad. How about an invite for dinner? Yes, I have three more with me. Five tomorrow night? Sounds great. Can't wait to see everyone. I love you," Franklin said to end the call.
"We are having dinner with my daughters and their families tomorrow night. You already know them, and the girls know my granddaughters, so it should be comfortable," Franklin said.
"So, Franklin, why the sudden interest in our daughters?"
"I spent decades in a home with three women, two of them my daughters. It is not that I have any special reason for being nice to them; it is just the way I am with my children. There is nothing strange about it," Franklin said.
There it was again. He said "my children."
"Franklin, my husband never said more than ten words a day to them, and none of those were anything to show he felt they were special, and now you, well, you are being not just kind, but loving to them, like you care about them. I don't want them hurt. You have only known us for two days, Franklin," Jenny said.
"Kids should always be treated with love and kindness. They are what we make them. They are these blank slates that we get to impress thoughts and feelings on to. They will learn the worst about people later, but here in our home, they need love and kindness and some structure too, but mostly my children need love and kindness. I would never hurt them, never. And in case you missed it, I am not your husband; yet," he responded.
Again, it went unsaid. She had called them "our" daughters, and he called them "my children." He also called this place "our home."
"Not my husband yet?" What the hell is going on? Jenny asked herself.
The day was spent in the pool with the other children of the complex. There were only ten two-home units, so the pool was almost private.
At seven and nine, the girls were about the same age as the others there. There was a lot of laughing and playing, and it was a large pool area. It could accommodate about ten families all at once.
So, when the other children did the "Mom, watch me" and "Dad, watch me" thing, our girls were almost left out.
Jane and Julie did the "mom, watch me" thing a few times, but seemed to be a little lost. They wanted to be like the other children there, but they did notice the difference. They got together, and we could see them whispering back and forth. Then it came.
"Dad, watch me dive," Jane said.
Jenny turned to look at me as I turned to look at Jane. Franklin remembered.
"That was no accident. That was no slip of the tongue. Jane called Franklin `dad'," Jenny thought.
"Now me, daddy, watch me dive too," Julie said.
My husband moves a bimbo into our home, ignores me and our daughters, I move out to here, and this nasty old man comes home, and now two days later, my children are our children, they call him daddy, and damn if I don't feel like his wife.
We spent the day watching the girls alternate between "Daddy, watch" and "Mommy, watch" and all of the things that parents do with their children at a pool, including ignoring them on occasion.
Pictures, you bet. I took a lot of pictures.
One thing we did not do was show affection to each other. Somehow, the family thing was okay, but not that, not yet.
During this day, I managed to tell Franklin my story. Well, I was able to tell him some of it, because he spent a lot of time with the girls in the pool and then running to our house to get whatever they happened to want and when they wanted it.
"I am an only child of older parents. I was never considered a beauty, and while I dated some and had a few lovers, nothing came of it.
When I was about twenty-eight, I met a man at work named William. William was a few years older than me, but not many, and he started dating me. He was nice enough, and I was getting older, and I was surprised that he asked me to marry him. I said yes. I was in love, or I thought I was.
I was extremely happy, and by the time I was thirty, I was married to a man others called "Wild Bill" for his crazy ways. He was funny and did make me laugh, and I thought I loved him. I tried to be a good wife and never cheated on him.
I got pregnant right away, and I had Jane. That is when things changed. William wanted a son and made no bones about it either. He put up with Jane, but that was about it. He hardly touched her, and I can't remember him changing a diaper or feeding her. A lot of the time, her name was "she." She needs changing. She is crying again. She is awake. She is hungry.
We never went for a test to see what the sex of the baby was going to be; it was a foregone conclusion that it would be a boy. But it was not a boy, it was my darling Jane.
Life was now not good at home. I became a stay-at-home mother and took care of Jane. Jane was a little over a year old, and I got pregnant again. This time, William insisted we get a sonogram and learn the sex of the baby. We did, and it was Julie.
At least Jane was "She." Julie was "It."
That was it for William and me. He accused me of having "old eggs" that could only make girls. He was horrible to me. He never touched me when I was pregnant and was just mean.
He said that having sex with a woman who could not have a son was a waste of time and his sperm.
When we did go out, which was not often, when I was pregnant, people would comment about it, but William would shoot them down and say I was not much of a wife if I could not have a boy, and "it" was another girl.
He quit coming home every night. When he did come home, I could tell he had been with other women. I was patient and waited. I waited for him to love me again. I waited for him to be my husband again. I waited for him to let me be his wife again.
I did have my babies, and it is not like he was violent or physically abusive, he just ignored the girls and me.
Then, about three months ago, he decided I needed help around the house and brought in a nanny.She was very beautiful and only nineteen. At nineteen, who isn't beautiful? I suspected they were having sex.
"Two months ago, I came home from picking up the children from school, and when I went into the bedroom, there was William and the nanny naked and having sex in our bed.
"From now on, you sleep in the other room and take care of your kids. I can handle the nanny on my own," William said to me without stopping. The nanny just had a smug look on her face.
"I went into the other room and called Linda, I knew her from school. She said her father had a place and that he was gone, and I could use it. She told me a little about you, about losing your wife and traveling. She did not say you were a soldier. Obviously, she did not tell me everything, and I am probably correct in thinking she does not know everything.
"I packed as much as I could into the car and came over here and met Linda and Susan. We unpacked, and the next day, we three and their husbands went to my old home and got all of our clothes and brought them here.
"I found out that William cleaned out the bank accounts before his announcement. I did not really know what to do.
"Linda and Susan said it would be alright and not to worry about a place to stay or paying any rent.
"For the last two months, the girls and I have been feeling sorry for ourselves, and I was doing nothing at all except taking them to school until the school year ended.
"My parents help as much as they can, and then you showed up. You started treating the girls like your daughters and me like your wife. It has only been two damn days, Franklin. Don't do this to us. Don't use us."The response was a hug and a "thank you" from both of them.
That next morning, he bent over and kissed my ear. He sang me a little song.
"Baby, I can drive your car. Baby, you are my star. Baby, I love to drive your car. AND BABY, I LOVE YOU." Okay, he changed it from "maybe I love you," but I loved the change.
I know he had sung the verses to me before, but not that last one, not until this time. I turned and put his arms around his neck. We kissed.
"Now, divorce that asshole and marry me!"
Those were his parting words to me as he went in to wake the girls for another day of adventure.
I know that many women want a man on their knees begging for marriage, but he said it perfectly for me. And then going to wake up "our daughters" said more than enough, it said everything. He loved me, and he loved our daughters.
Pictures began to spring up all over the house. I mentioned that we needed some of his family too.
"This is my family. And as soon as you see that in every room, and are content, you and our daughters, I will bring some of the others in. But first, we must build our memories before we bring in others, if this is to be our home," Franklin told Jenny.
A week later, he had to face live fire. I had to have him meet my parents, and that was intense. They were older than most when they had me, but they were not prepared for a man that was as old as Franklin was to be my chosen husband, especially when I already had one, and it was not Franklin.
I convinced Franklin to wear his uniform to the meeting, and after a lot of discussion, where I used every wifely negotiating tool, "Oh God" and "Yes, like that" and don't forget "Harder, baby, you do your pussy so sweet," he finally "came" to understand my reasoning and agreed.
"Okay, I did that every night, no matter what, but I like to think I was particularly persuasive that time. I know I was persuaded to do anything he wanted," Jenny thought.
So we showed up on a Saturday with Franklin in his uniform and his "wife and girls" in tow.
By now, my dad was eighty-three and not easy to get along with, but the uniform helped.
You see, my dad was born in 1925 and was in WWII. He was on the landing beaches of France on June 6, 1944. He was just a kid. He went to Korea and Vietnam. He retired a Lieutenant Colonel in 1965 after doing two tours in Vietnam.
My dad was forty-four when I was born, and mom was thirty-five. I was their only child.
I figured that the uniform would work in our favor, at least as far as dad was concerned.
Because my father had been in Vietnam, but a lot earlier than Franklin, they had that in common. I can't say they became friends that day, but at least there was something like respect between them.
"Daughter tell you to wear the uniform?" My dad asked Franklin.
"Yes, sir, she can be very persuasive," Franklin replied.
"Just like her mother," Dad said with a slight smile. "Never did like that William guy. Wasn't my choice, though. Don't much like you sleeping with my daughter and not being married to her. You gonna take care of that pretty soon?"
"Already working on it," Franklin told Dad.
"You're an old bastard. Been married before, I hear. Got grown daughters of your own. What about my granddaughters?" Jenny's dad continued.
"Yeah, I am an old bastard, so your daughter keeps telling me. Wife died, never cheated on her. Love your daughter and love your granddaughters. Never going to cheat on them either. As far as I'm concerned, they are my daughters too. Not going to be treated any differently than the others. May have to shoot old 'Wild Bill' to get him to agree, but I intend to adopt them," Franklin said.
Their conversation was cryptic. Dad, ever the Lieutenant Colonel, knew what he wanted and asked the question in a brusque military manner, and the Master Sergeant responded in a military manner to the satisfaction of the Colonel.
"Looks like you've been around some. Why not a Sergeant Major?" he asked Franklin.
"Had money, had a home and family. I liked the Army, but my wife, who was an Army Brat, and I decided that it was okay to let the career guys who needed the rank and the money, have it. Been reserves most of the time, but did a lot of active duty time. I have a Ph.D. in engineering, so I work for the DOD. When it was possible, I wanted to be with my family, that's what it's all about anyway.
"Father-in-law was a Sergeant Major, and I think he liked being the only one in the family. Getting out in six months, finally retiring. Going to get married and be a family man again," Franklin told him.
They both knew what he was talking about.
The girls kept calling Franklin "daddy," and I think it was a way of claiming him and also they were afraid of the situation, not their grandparents, and wanted to be reassured. It started as a tense time for everyone, even if it was the grandparents' home.
They would bounce into Franklin's lap and get a hug, and then away to do whatever they did, and then back again to him.
"Are you sure, he is pretty old?" My mother asked me.
"If he was any younger, I would be dead by now. And Daddy is almost ten years older than you are, Mother," I said with a laugh.
She gave me a questioning look and then got a big smile on her face, it matched mine.
"Well, that's nice, but do you love him?" She followed up with.
"God, yes. And I have no idea why I fell in love with him, other than he is perfect. But in love I am, and he is just as crazy about me. I can't believe I am so lucky. And the girls, well, they decided he was their father from the first day, and he has been their father since then, in every possible way. He loves them as much as I do," I told Mother.
We spent the next two months being a family. The girls may not have known why, but we always were playing that Beatles song, "Drive My Car," and laughing. It became our family song when we went for a drive out of the house and sometimes in the house, but only when Franklin and I were alone.
For two months, we became a real family and just grew more and more in love with each other.
He taught the girls to play dominoes. He said it was his way of teaching them to count quickly and recognizing commonality in numbers, as well as developing mental acuity with numbers. He even had special sets made up for them with their names on the back.
He also taught them the basics of backgammon, but only started them out rolling the dice and going from one side to the other as in a race. He told me the rest would come later.
Now, counting for dominoes was strange, but the girls picked up on it right away. He said you make a large + sign, with each line representing 5 points. Then, inside of each side of the +, you added another plus, for ten points. When you get all four sides filled in, that represented 50 points.
He was always making them think about numbers and how to use them. He said it would make them good engineers, if they wanted to be.
One day, he was in the garage, and the girls went out to see him.
"What are you doing, Daddy?" They asked.
"I'm driving nails," He told them.
"That's silly, Daddy, you can't drive a nail, you have to drive a car, but not a nail," Jane said.
Well, he taught them how to drive a nail, but he made them wear large oven mitts so they would not hit their fingers too hard.
They came into the house with the ugliest, not even close to square things imaginable. They were beaming when he put them into equally lopsided frames, but you could tell every side of his fit perfectly, and hung them on the wall with their names under the one each "drove" nails into.
There were dinners with his daughters almost three times a week.
"How is it going?" Susan asked with a knowing smile.
"Great, he is teaching the girls to play dominoes. He even got a set made with their names on it," I told them.
Susan walked over to a bookshelf and pulled out three sets of dominoes, each with the name of her two daughters and one older set with her name on it.
"Did you ever notice that he never wins at dominoes or backgammon?" Linda asked.
"Come to think of it, I never saw him win. He must be a bad player, but the girls love to play games with him," Jenny told them.
"Linda and I have played dominoes and backgammon with him for almost thirty years, and he has never won a game. He even lost every game with Mom. He has never won a game with his granddaughters either," Susan said.
"Really?" Jenny commented.
"He is rated in the top 100 dominoes players in the world. He is in the top 100 for backgammon. He does international competitions. He beats our husbands so badly they will not play with him anymore. But he can't bring himself to win against us. He refuses to win. He says it is more important that we enjoy playing with him than his winning," Susan said.
I paid attention to his playing other games with the girls. Everything from war to old maid, to crazy eights and gin rummy. He never won a game against them or me.
Oh, he came close, and he pushed us, but in the end, he never won. If you looked hard, you would never see him throw the game, he was that good. A play that looked good was actually bad in the long run, and he knew it before he made the play.
He would pull at his short hair and complain and tell us we were cheating as he laughed, and we laughed with him, but he never won a single game.
Eventually, his two months were up, and he had to go back, and the girls and I were upset, but we kept up a brave front.
The night before he left, he was his normal happy self, and the girls and I were upset. He did his best to make it easy on us, but there is no way for it to be easy, especially knowing what I knew. He was going to be in a war zone, and I was afraid.
That night, it was gentle lovemaking, and a lot of it.In the morning, at first, I pretended to be asleep. He sang to me again, like always.
This time, I sang back. "Baby, you can drive my car. You will always be my star. Baby, you sure drive my car. Baby, I love you."
I could hear him going into the children's room, and they stayed asleep, or so I thought. When he left, they came into bed with me, and we did not talk, we only held onto each other.
It was a nasty five months. Yes, he talked to me all the time, and the girls too. Thank God for Skype. The girls even had iPhones with his Skype address on it and would just call him during the day, and if possible, he would talk with them, just as if he was home. There was a torrent of gifts that arrived, and crazy things too, just to make us laugh.
The divorce was not going well. We were fighting over everything. He was not paying support, and my living conditions were noted to the judge. Neither one of us asked for counseling, we just wanted it over.
Also at stake was one hundred thousand dollars. It was money my grandparents put into a marriage trust with a pre-nuptial agreement. If one of us cheated, the non-cheating spouse got the money. If both of us cheated, the money was to go to the last one who did it. I wanted the money for my girls.
Franklin took care of the lawyer's fees, so I did not have to worry about that. He also gave me a debit card with more money than I would need and was always putting more into it. Financially, we were fine.
The house, make that townhome, next door went vacant. That is when I found out that Franklin owned it. He was having it remodeled, but did not let me in on the surprise, at least not at first.
As per his usual habits, Franklin came home without telling anyone. The girls were with their sisters, as they called Franklin's granddaughters. I was out with his daughters for a little girl's night out at a dinner club.
While we were there, I ran into the ex-to-be. He had the bimbo with him.
"Well, you are looking fat," he said to me.
"Did you leave the babysitter home, or is someone else here to take care of the kid you brought?" I answered back.
I was about to say something else when I felt his presence. He gave me a little kiss on the neck from behind and then, using his thumb and forefinger, made a thumper and hit me on the belly.
"Daddy's home! Wake up," he said to my swollen belly. He was still in his uniform, and he looked handsome.
He put his arms around my rather large waist.
"Heard the phone message from Susan saying they were picking you up for dinner here, thought I would join you," Franklin said as he kissed me and then kissed each daughter.
"You are kidding me. This old man is the one you convinced is the father of those things inside of you. You need a real man, not an old man, but maybe an old man is all you can handle," the ex said. He and his bimbo laughed.
"I had a young man, and he was too small to handle me. This man isn't small and is more than experienced enough to handle everything quite well, as you can see," Jenny said with a smirk as Franklin caressed her belly.
I could see it in his eyes just a second before his hand moved out to strike Jenny. It was more than enough time to knock him on his ass. I hit him dead center in his nose. That caused his eyes to water like a waterfall, plus all the blood. Then I just swept his feet out from under him with my foot and gave him a little push, and since he was off balance, he fell into the table behind him. I smiled, and we left as I tossed a few hundreds on the table. I did not want to hang around for that discussion.
"You know they are yours, don't you, Franklin?" Jenny asked.
"Jenny, I am sure of it," Franklin said.
"You have been gone for five months, you are a month early. How do you know without a test?" She asked Franklin. "We can get a test, Franklin. I want you to be sure."
"When I first arrived, you had a box of Kotex and Tampax in the bathroom in a brown paper bag. It has been a while since anything like that was in the home. I looked inside, and the boxes were open, and only a couple of them were used. The receipt was in the bag, and it was from a few days before I first got home and we met. That means you finished your period, and these supplies were for the end. We were together for two months before I left. We had sex every day and every night. EVERY NIGHT! You never used anything in the bag again, and it is probably still there. You never had your period, and I knew you were pregnant before I left, but you needed to tell me," Franklin said.
"Franklin, you are going to have two girls again, twin girls. Are you ok with that?" Jenny asked.
The way he kissed her let her know she had the right man as the father of her girls.
That night, when they got home, they all went inside the unit next door. It was going to be opened up to join with Franklin's other townhome. He had already started on the nursery.
He had plans for expanding the kitchen and the living room, plus adding bedrooms.
"My God, I do love you," Jenny said. Then she and the girls changed all the plans, moving rooms around, just a little.
Time had moved on while Franklin was away. There was a final hearing to settle the divorce and separate the property. At the next hearing, she would be divorced.
Later, at the hearing, William was there with a black and blue nose and eyes, oh, and his lawyer too. Apparently, the security tapes showed him trying to hit Jenny when Franklin popped him in the nose because no one came for Franklin, and William did not mention it.
Franklin was there in the audience, as was Jenny's parents. This was the day of the final decree, and they would try to get the child support and alimony worked out.
Both Franklin and Jenny's father were in their uniforms.
"Your honor, considering the physical condition of my client's soon-to-be ex-wife at this time, which occurred during the marriage, we must regretfully, but respectfully, ask this court for an order for a DNA test on the alleged daughters of my client," William's attorney said.
The poor little girls were in the audience when this was said and were sitting with Franklin. What a shitty thing to do to them. This could have been handled in chambers or at the side bar, but this was done to embarrass Jenny and the girls.
The Colonel and Jenny's mom were shocked and angry. They were going to be even more shocked.
Jenny might be Franklin's lover, but it was not until after old "Wild Bill" had another woman in the marriage bed, and he took all the money and kicked her out. Well, Franklin knew how to handle this situation. A soldier never misses an opportunity for victory.
"Your honor, there is no need for DNA testing. The Petitioner is correct, he is not the father of Jane and Julie, I am. I am also the father of Jenny's twin girls she will give birth to in a few months," Franklin said as he rose to address the court.
Jenny was shocked. Jane and Julie smiled and hugged Franklin. They just knew it, they knew he was really their father. Even the old Colonel was smiling, as was his wife. Franklin felt the old man's bony hand on his shoulder and turned to see this old war horse Colonel, who came up through the enlisted ranks, smiling but with tears running down his cheeks.
"Thank you, son," the colonel said.
William had a big grin on his face. The judge was scowling.
"Your honor, the Petitioner and his counsel offer to stipulate that Master Sergeant Franklin Harris is the natural father of the two minors [Asshole did not even use their names, just called them the two minors.] and that no DNA is needed," Petitioner's counsel smugly said.
Accepting the stipulation would mean that the money would go to William as Jenny's adultery with Franklin as the father of the girls would precede William's, which Jenny had evidence of.
Jenny did not even have to consider it, all she had to do was look at her daughters holding onto Franklin, and her smiling parents with tears on their cheeks, and she knew that right answer. "Fuck the money," Jenny thought.
"He is right, Franklin is their father," Jenny said aloud, and she told her attorney to accept the stipulation. Actually, Jenny kicked her attorney when he started to say no, and then she smiled at Franklin and the girls.
"The Petitioner's application for divorce is hereby granted. The children are hereby found by the Court, based on the stipulation, to be the children of Franklin Harris, and the birth certificates are hereby ordered to be corrected to show that fact. In light of these new stipulated facts as to parentage, there will be no child support ordered.
Should the Petitioner seek to obtain some monetary recovery against the Master Sergeant, then this Court will be inclined to revisit the issue of parentage and child support. This was a warning to the Petitioner. If you ask for more money, the court will seek DNA on its own motion.
"The family residence is ordered to be sold, and the proceeds split equally between the Petitioner and the Respondent. Either party may purchase the community equity of the other based on three estimates, one from each party and a third chosen by the two appraisers. The court reserves the right to dispute any estimate.
"All community assets, including retirement accounts and 401K's, irrespective of their title and designation, stocks, bonds, bonuses, wherever situated, are hereby ordered to be split with fifty percent to go to the Petitioner and fifty percent to the Respondent.
"This is a no-fault state, so the conduct of the parties is not relevant to these proceedings as it pertains to separation of community assets.As to the matter of the trust money, which the parties stipulated I could decide as part of the divorce proceedings, that is awarded to Petitioner based on the facts stipulated to in this court. The judge finished.
"Your honor?" Franklin asked.
"What is it, Master Sergeant?" The judge asked.
Damn, when she said "Master Sergeant," I heard the words, but it sure sounded like "asshole."
"Do you think your clerk could issue a marriage license and you can marry Jenny and me right now?" Franklin asked.
The judge just looked down and shook her head.
"Master Sergeant, I am already married and I have no desire to marry you or Jenny or even both of you at any time. Please learn to use the English language properly," a peeved "Her Honor" said.
"Tell the clerk of the court to bring in a marriage license, fill it out, and let me know when it is here," the judge told her clerk as she went back into chambers. Okay, they did the "all rise" thing.
Petitioner and his counsel left immediately to spend their one hundred thousand dollars.
Within five minutes, the judge was back on the bench. The license was filled out, Franklin paid the fee, and her honor did the honors.
The Colonel walked his daughter up to the bench for the ceremony. Both he and Franklin wore uniforms. Franklin's entire family was present in that courtroom as witnesses. The only surprise was the way Franklin became the father of Jane and Julie.
Her honor did the honors, pretty cool.
Franklin got to kiss his pregnant bride and his new daughters, and then was called to the bench, alone.
"Master Sergeant, you ever bring your lying ass into my court again, even if it is only a parking ticket, you will end up a private in state prison. Do you read me, Master Sergeant?" The judge said quietly between clenched teeth.
I came to attention and saluted. "Yes, General," I replied just as quietly.
"Good. Now I expect my nieces and grandnieces will be going to the reception tonight? Henry and I will be there a little early to meet your new in-laws, say about six. And get that smug look off your face, you're still my brother-in-law, and I can kick your ass anytime I want. And I don't believe for one second you ever cheated on my sister, but once everyone stipulated to a fact, it was out of my hands," she finished with a smile.
"I want to meet my new sister-in-law and nieces in a 'less formal' setting," the judge said. She was the sister that went to West Point, became a lawyer, and a general with the Judge Advocates Office.
Of course, even judges must bow to superior pressure. Four nieces and four grand-nieces now kidnapped the judge, and we all went to the reception area early. Henry came alone, but earlier than scheduled.
Two months later, I had two twin daughters, whom we named Jenny and Mahal.
Yes, we lost the hundred grand, but we got something worth more. In later years, Jane and Julie would talk about being "hundred thousand dollar daughters."
Ten years later, neighbors would still ask if we were home to visit and would frequently be told that we were taking a ride in the car, even if both cars were in the garage. Kids pick up shit when you think they are not listening.
The walls are no longer white. Each wall is filled with pictures of our lives. I brought back pictures of Mahal and the rest of the family, as they knew I would.
Our lives were full and happy. Well, as happy as they can be with five females in the house, plus two other daughters and six other granddaughters. It was one hell of a ride.
As for Wild Bill? I don't have a fucking clue. He lost the three most important things in his life, and all for a little money. He is not around, and that is all I care about.
But Mahal and my dreams? Yes, the dreams finally stopped.
The last time I saw Mahal, I saw her right where I first met her, when I told her I wanted her to marry me. Each previous time I saw her, she smiled and waved at me and turned and walked away. This time, she stopped and turned back and looked at me and spoke. "I love you, I will always love you. You will be okay now. Everything is going to be fine. It is finally my time, and I can now go home. Good-bye, my love."
Then I immediately woke up, as usual, to hear:
"I can't sleep in that little bed with those two. There is not enough room. Now we are adults, and I am sure that we can act like adults," Jenny said as she slid into the bed. "You just sleep there on your side, and I will sleep on this side, and - - -" and that was all Jenny got out of her mouth.
You know the rest. | null | null | Authors/cantbuymy/Stories/Stories/Born One Year To Early.txt |
114,697 | Big Al | Fuckbuddies | Young Connie walked home from school every day past Al Carson's house. The 18-year-old girl went to an all-girls academy, and so Al always saw her in her school uniform - a tight white button-down blouse that fit her pear-like breasts snugly, and a short plaid skirt, which often flapped to reveal teasing panty flashes whenever she skipped.
She liked him and always waved to him when she passed, if he was out working in the yard, which he often was. Sometimes she would stop to talk to him briefly, and he'd offer her a lemonade, or if he was in an especially good mood, a sip of his beer. Connie always liked that, favoring him with a broad, slightly buck-toothed grin of pearly whites.
One afternoon in late April, it was sprinkling from a cloudy sky, but Al was working dedicatedly in the yard regardless, weeding tomato plants and flower beds. He wore no shirt, revealing his bulging, rippling musculature, and his denim jeans were too water-resistant to get very wet from the light sprinkle.
"Hi, Mister Carson!" he heard the familiar voice, and turned around, rising from his haunches to greet Connie. He gaped at her as soon as he laid eyes on her.
The teen girl's tight white blouse had been soaked through by the rain and was almost see-through, revealing pale, succulent breasts and taut pink nipples poking through. Her long red hair was damp, and she was shivering. "Connie!" he exclaimed. "You can't be walking home in the rain. Come in and warm up a bit; I can loan you an umbrella or even drive you home."
"T-thanks, Mister Carson!" Connie beamed in relief and dashed for the safety of his porch overhang. She followed him excitedly into his house; she'd never been inside the handsome man's house before and felt adventurous and slightly naughty entering it.
Al fetched a towel and wrapped it around her, and began making some hot chocolate. The pleasant smell of it wafted through the house, and she sighed peacefully. "I should take off this blouse," she shivered again.
"If you're comfortable doing that in front of me," Al nodded.
She giggled. "Well, you have your shirt off!" She began unbuttoning her blouse with shivering fingers, but her hands were fumbling, so she looked pleadingly at him. He came over and rubbed her cold, wet hands between his, and she purred. His hands were so big and warm, massaging her soft hands so pleasantly.
She almost whined in disappointment when he stopped, but then tingles raced through her flesh as he set to the task of unbuttoning her blouse for her. The folds of the blouse came apart, and Connie gladly shucked it, relieved to be free of the cold, wet material.
Al couldn't help but gawk at her little breasts. They were lovely pears, fresh with all the vitality of blossoming youth, and covered in freckles, like her face. Her pale pink nipples were still hard, and her cheeks flushed with more tingles as she realized he was looking at her.
"Am I pretty?" she said a bit shyly, twirling a lock of damp red hair around her finger. She liked Mister Carson very much and hoped he liked her too.
"You're gorgeous, honey," he smiled warmly at her, and she smiled happily. He wrapped the plush towel around her again and dried her off. She nuzzled into him, ostensibly for warmth, as he dried off her back, and he gulped as he felt her hard tit-stems scraping on his six-pack abs. His crotch gave a hard throb against her torso, one which she definitely felt.
She tittered. "Do you have a boner, Mister Carson?"
He laughed. "Yes, I do. Because I have a pretty little tease in front of me, showing off her gorgeous titties."
She flushed with excitement again, and this time the flush spread through her whole upper torso, first her shoulders and then down to her freckled breasts. She met his eyes, and he saw the young rampant desire in her hazel eyes, then she looked down a bit shyly. "Will you... I mean... will you teach me about sex, Mister Carson?"
His cock gave a hard throbbing twitch that was quite visible to her wondering eyes, which riveted to the front of his bulging jeans. "You're 18, and you don't know anything about sex?"
"I had sex ed at school," she nodded, addressing his crotch rather than him, "and I've even looked at porn with my girlfriend." This revelation prompted another throb from him. "But... I want you to show me what sex with a man is like. You're nice and gentle, and I don't trust any other boy to treat me right."
He took her hand in his and bent down to one knee, so that his head was of a height with hers, looking her in the eye. "If you really want me to... I would be honored, Connie."
She blushed, but squealed happily, panting with the force of her desire as she wrapped her arms around his neck. "No kissing though. That's just for Tasha. You're not my boyfriend, 'cause I already have her as my girlfriend. Just fuckbuddies."
He laughed. "Sure, Connie. And where did a nice girl like you learn such a naughty word?"
She giggled. "I know all sorts of naughty words, from porn and from school. Like..." She leaned in so that her lips brushed his ear, her breath hot on the side of his head. "I want you to fuck my little virgin cunt, Mister Carson." She tittered excitedly as she felt his boner throb again. "Now show me your... your cock, Mister Carson! I already showed you my boobies, so you have to show me your cock before I show you my puss."
"That sounds fair," he grinned at her, standing up. He unfastened his pants and let them drop. The shocked excitement on Connie's face was as wonderful as every time he showed a girl his cock for the first time. Her jaw dropped as his massive prick popped out, a raging mast of manmeat nearly a foot and a half long. It curved up from his bushy pubic curls in a lurching tower and was fully as thick around as a coke can. Dark purple veins bulged out from his shaft, pulsing lewdly as clear sticky precum dribbled down his enormous length. Leathery-skinned ballsacks bigger than apples dangled beneath his monstrous erection.
"WOW!" Connie exclaimed, her eyes wide with lust and surprise. "You're HUGE! None of the pricks I saw in sex ed or on porn sites were anywhere near that big!"
"I'm gifted," he chuckled huskily.
"Sure are!" she laughed throatily. Her eyes never left his immense throbbing length, hypnotized by it, and another chuckle from him jerked her back to reality. "Oh yeah, I gotta show you my puss now."
"Pussy," he corrected her. "Or cunt, or twat, or snatch."
"Right," she tittered. "I gotta show you how wet my shaven little cunt is for you now that I've seen that amazing cock!"
"You don't have to if you don't want to, though," Al told her. "If you just want to see and touch my cock, you don't have to expose yourself."
"Oh, I definitely want to," she beamed at him, but he could tell she was touched by his sensitivity. She wiggled her skirt down, so that her bold red panties were revealed to his vision. Her panties made a cameltoe of her nether lips, and the front of them was damp with her virginal moisture. She shimmied out of those quickly as well and stood fully bared before him. Freckles dusted her gorgeous smooth cunt. He licked his lips, his eyes roving her supple, sexy form, and her eyes roamed his no less hungrily.
She squealed as he plucked her up by her waist and sat her on his hip. Her squeals turned to panted moans as her pussy rode against his hip while he carried her to the bedroom. She was gasping, her freckled pussy reddened and gleaming with slickness, as he set her gently on the bed. Her luscious red hair was mostly dry by now and surrounded her head in a rich crimson fan. Her gorgeous budding breasts heaved as she panted lustily, her eyes slightly unfocused but looking at his huge cock with desire.
He worshipped her fresh, tight body with his hands and mouth first, nuzzling her soft flesh with his stubbled cheek - which produced the most delicious little purrs from her - before suckling on her taut pink nipples. She moaned in obscene ecstasy and nearly came off the bed as he began licking her sweet young twat. "Ohhhhhhggnnnn," her pleasure guttered in her throat as he ate her virginity out, building her pleasure higher and higher as she writhed beneath him.
He began sucking on her tiny pink nubbin, and Connie shrieked, her body flailing, as she came. Her pussy soaked his face with her sweet juices, and her body stiffened and shuddered for nearly half a minute, before she relaxed limply. A shiver of deep bliss rippled through her. "Oh god, Mister Carson," she managed to breathe several moments later, "Tasha's a good pussy-licker, but I've NEVER had anything that good."
"My pleasure," he grinned, stroking her leg tenderly, licking her delicious juices from his lips.
She tittered. "It's not your pleasure till you cum, too, right? Can I suck your cock? Please?She looked at him eagerly, like a little girl begging for permission to play with a new toy.
He laughed. "Of course, I'd love it if you did!"
"Yippee!" she whooped. She grasped his massive, throbbing cock in both of her small, hot hands, cooing in fascination as it twitched and jerked in her hold. "I've always wanted to see what it tastes like." She took a tentative lick at the precum bubbling up out of his bulbous knob, wresting a groan from him, and mewled happily. "Say, that tastes pretty good!"
She opened her mouth wide, her breath blowing hot on his knob, before she lowered her head to suck him into her warm, virginal mouth. He was so thick and swollen that she could barely fit her lips around half of his cockhead, but she moaned happily, his precum pooling on her tongue before she swallowed. "Mmmm!" she said appreciatively as she pulled off. "That's cum? It's delicious! I thought it was supposed to be white though."
"No, just precum," he said. "Cum is white, like you said, and also a lot thicker and gooier."
"Oh, right!" she said. "I remember from sex ed now." She regarded his massive cock with hunger but some doubt. "I want to try deep-throating you, but I can't make my mouth fit. Can you help me?"
"I sure can, sexy babe," he winked at her, fondling her cute, little round bum. She giggled lustily, her nipples still very taut, and he watched a trickle of juice run down her inner thigh. She lowered herself again, and he groaned as the upper half of his knob was enveloped in her hot, wet paradise again.
He put his broad hand on top of her crimson head, eliciting a happy moan from her as she felt his strong weight, and pushed gently down. "Mmmmm!" Connie moaned, louder, and Al recognized the signs of a budding young sub. He pushed harder, and Connie moaned like a fuck-starved young whore as her lips stretched obscenely wide into thin, pale pink lines, engulfing his knob and clamping down around his fat girth beneath the cock crown.
Connie was still moaning nonstop, her body shivering with ripples of ecstasy, and Al kept pushing down. His knob met the tightness at the back of her throat, and then forced its way down as she swallowed eagerly on him. Her throat-cunt was tight and slick and hot, her neck bulging out as she sucked his phenomenal shaft down her 18-year-old throat.
She was mewling and moaning in rapture, getting off from feeling his cock stuff her, and he reached a finger to rub her puffy cunt lips just as her nose buried itself inside his dark pubic bush. Connie came again, overstimulated from her cunt being stroked while gulping his throat around his huge, delicious cock. Her throat clenched around him as she trembled with ecstasy, and Al didn't bother to hold back.
His nuts tightened and released, his cock lurching inside her as he spunked with a roar. Her neck bulged even fatter with the thick ropes of cum pulsing through his shaft to geyser almost directly into her young tummy. The sensations of her older fuck-buddy's huge, meaty slab jizzing inside her spiked Connie's pleasure further, and she was unable to come down from her climactic high until after Al finished pumping his wad deep down her throat, over a minute of voluminous squirting later.
It was several long moments after that, before she calmed down, and slowly pulled herself off his cock. His knob came free of her mouth with a lewd, slurpy 'gluh' of utter sublime satisfaction. Thick strings of drool and cum connected her lips and chin to his shaft, and her eyes were unfocused, so dazed by virginal delight she was.
He chuckled, still panting hoarsely himself, watching as her eyes slowly roved aimlessly around the room before coming to rest on him. "WOW!" she exclaimed. "That was amazing!"
"Thanks for giving me a blowjob," he winked at her.
She giggled outrageously. "It was my pleasure!"
"I know," he said, setting her off into giggles again.
"We can stop here if you want," he said, "or I can fuck your cunt."
"Are you kidding?" Connie yelped. "I think I'll DIE if you DON'T fuck my cunt now. I've never been so horny in my LIFE!" She let herself fall back onto the bed and spread her lithe legs. "Is my cunt alright?" she asked pensively.
"Baby," he said, running his broad hand down her mound - wresting a low, guttural purr from her - "your cunt is perfect. Fresh young pussy is the best." He knelt in front of her, bracing his knees against her inner thighs to hitch her legs up further, and frotted his immense shaft on her swollen, juicy wet pussy lips. Cum dripped from his knob onto her titlets, wresting gasps of hot delight from her.
"Have you..." she panted hoarsely, rubbing her pussy back into his frotting shaft almost frenziedly, "fucked fresh young pussy before?"
"All the time," he nodded. "I've got lots of horny neighbors."
"Mmmmmmm," the little redhead moaned, "that's good, 'cause my hot cunt needs your big fat cock NOW!"
He didn't make her wait any longer, but pulled back and thrust his massive prick deep inside her drenched, slippery canal with a hard pound of his hips. Ecstasy ripped out of Connie's throat as her young, shaven cunt was split apart like a ripe fruit by Al's immense baby-maker, and her hot, slick walls gripped and squeezed him incredibly tightly.
Al had fucked enough virgin girls to know when to take it easy and slow and when to pound her hard. Connie was primed and ready from her pussy being eaten and her orgasm from giving him a blowjob, so he slammed into her virginal cunt, wrenching screaming climaxes from her thrashing young body. Her fresh twat was so soaked and wet that she admitted his immense girth with little trouble, and his strength was indomitable enough to stretch her tightness wide apart for his enormous slab of cockmeat.
As soon as his bloated, heavy balls squelched into her cute teen ass, he pulled back only to thrust back in again, fucking her in a hard, rough cadence. Their flesh smacked together in lewd, wet squelches as Connie screamed her skyrocketed pleasure, throwing her body up into his thrusts as he pounded her slippery 18-year-old cunt like a bitch in heat.
Al had incredible stamina, so while he had let himself blow his load quickly in Connie's throat, he now fucked her hot, horny pussy relentlessly without stopping. Orgasm after spiraling orgasm crashed through her body and blanked her mind nonstop as he rutted her madly. Five minutes, ten minutes, fifteen. Twenty minutes, half an hour. Forty-five minutes, an hour, an hour and a half, and still Al jackhammered his incredible cock into her hairless snatch like a piston.
Her tight cunt gushed her fuck-honey in floods all over his cock and balls, running down her ass to puddle in the sheets. Finally, he bellowed, anchoring himself balls-deep again in her tight, slick fuck-tunnel, as his unbelievably large cock spurted hot, thick squirts of jizz into her again and again and again and again. More than a gallon of his jizz flooded her womb and overflowed back out of her ravished, thoroughly satisfied pussy, before he was spent, groaning and letting his weight collapse atop her.
She moaned in utter bliss as his cock continued to twitch inside her, her body still shuddering with violent aftershocks of ecstasy. It was several minutes before she was able to form words, and even then she only uttered a barely coherent litany of his name, worshipfully. "Oh Mister Carson...oh god... Mister... Mister Carson, oh... oh GOD..."
He pulled out of her, knowing she wouldn't be able to fully come to her senses as long as his massive pleasure-giving fuck-tool remained inside her, and she whined with instinctive disappointment as her pussy slurped needily on him one last time before he pulled free. He felt the urge to kiss her tenderly, as he often did with his lovers, but she had made the rules clear, so he forbore.
He waited patiently, admiring the slick sheen of sweat glistening on her freckled body, her tits heaving, her gaping 18-year-old pussy oozing his fuck-cream and her nectar. Eventually, she managed to sit up, and regard him with adoration and amazement. "Oh god, Mister Carson," she breathed, "I never knew it could be so GOOD!"
"Glad I could show you," he said sincerely, stroking her thigh fondly. She smiled happily at him. She had to go home though, so she took a quick shower to clean off, before donning her now-dry clothes. She hugged him fiercely, burrowing her face in his muscular abs, before going out the door. She waved enthusiastically at him and skipped happily down the street.
So began Al and Connie's relationship as fuck-buddies. Whenever she was horny, she would call him from her pink cell phone for a quickie - or as often as not, a long session of cunt-pounding. She even cut class once, she was so horny for his cock, although usually she waited till lunchtime for a midday quickie.
One afternoon a month later, Al was working in his yard again on a bright, sunny day. He heard hushed giggles and turned to see not only Connie but a friend with her, hand in hand. The other girl was Connie's age, and in an identical school uniform. She was black, with long, luscious black hair flowing in waves down to her knees. Her chest appeared to be smaller than Connie's, but she had plush lips made for cock-sucking, and his cock stirred in his trousers.
"This is Mister Carson, Tasha!" Connie introduced him gleefully. "Mister Carson, this is my girlfriend."
"Pleased to meet you, Tasha," he said, standing up and shaking her hand. She giggled, but kept darting looks at his crotch.
Al noticed, of course, and so did Connie. "Sorry," she said only somewhat apologetically, "I keep telling her how big your cock is, and she wants to see for herself."
He laughed. "Sure," he said. "Come on in, I'll get you two some lemonade.The girls pranced through the front door and slung their backpacks down in the front hallway. "I want a beer!" Connie announced. Al chuckled and brought three cans of beer from the fridge.
"He lets you have beer?" Tasha gasped.
"Yep!" Connie beamed. "I told you he was great! Wanna try some?"
"Heck yeah!" Tasha said, her lithe black fingers popping the top of the can Al gave her, and sipping tentatively.
Connie sipped hers as well, but held her can in one hand, her other hand beneath the table. With the motion of that arm, and Tasha's shifting and mewling, Al deduced that Connie was rubbing her girlfriend's black pussy.
"So," he said, "I understand you're here about a giant cock?"
Tasha tittered. "Cock is such a naughty word," she said. "I like it! But I'm lesby," she demurred.
"So am I," Connie pointed out, "but I still love Mister Carson's cock!"
"I am curious," Tasha confessed. "Show me, please, Mister Carson?"
Al winked at her and stood from the table. He swiveled his hips and did a faux sexy dance, taking off his shirt as though he were a Chippendale. Connie and Tasha laughed and whooped as his sexy musculature came on display, and he turned to face away from them as he undid his pants and let them fall to the floor. Then he turned around, letting the lusty black girl see his semi-hard shlong for the first time.
She gasped, her face flushing with desire as she beheld it, her mouth ajar. Even semi-hard, he was a foot long and as thick as the beer cans they were holding. It jutted out from his crotch, pulsing gently, precum dribbling from the tip to run down the underside of his shaft and drip to the floor.
"That's HUGE!" Tasha exclaimed delightedly. "And you're right, Connie, it is so tasty-looking!"
"Just wait," Connie said happily, "it gets even bigger when he's hard."
"It gets BIGGER?" Tasha's eyes widened. "And it fits inside you?"
"Yup," Connie nodded, shivering with remembered pleasure. "It's 'cause he makes me so wet, my tight pussy stretches great!"
"My pussy is tingling just thinking about it," Tasha said dreamily, gazing in awe at his shlong.
"I'm more than happy to fuck you if you want," Al winked at her, and she giggled lustily.
"He means it too," Connie tittered. "He's a randy old man. I bet he'd love to plow your beautiful little black pussy with his big fat white dick!"
Al's cock hardened, swelling and rising to its full stature, at Connie's lewd words, giving the truth to her statement, and Tasha gasped, breathing heavily with desire. "Oh god," she moaned, "I want it so bad!" She stood up from the table, setting her half-finished beer can down, and lifted up her plaid skirt to reveal that she wore no panties. Instead, her lovely chocolate snatch was bared to him, surrounded by the occasional wisp of dark hair.
"The bedroom's this way," Connie tugged on her hand, and Tasha and Al followed her. Connie directed Tasha onto the bed and to spread her legs, helping her black girlfriend to shuck her clothes completely. He admired her lovely black form, and her taut small-titted nips, as he straddled her on the bed, ready to plunge deep inside her horny willing cunt.
"Put your weight completely on top of her when you fuck her, Mister Carson," Connie ordered him. "I love it when you do that!"
He grinned wryly. "Yes, ma'am," and his 18-year-old fuckbuddy giggled. He frotted Tasha some, as he had during Connie's first time, and she writhed lewdly, her steaming hot pussy anointing him with warm fuckhoney; she was ready, her 18-year-old black cunt aching to swallow up his immense white cock.
So he gave it to her, sinking his cock deep inside her cunt, which stretched obscenely wide around him, and she screamed out in mind-boggling rapture. Her head tossed back and forth, her hair flying, her mouth open and tongue hanging out, just from him sliding slowly in and out of her.
Connie had her smartphone out and was recording it gleefully, incredibly turned on by the erotic color contrast of Al's huge white cock sinking deep inside Tasha's obscenely stretched young black cunt. Al fucked her slowly and languidly, building his new little black lover's need to a fever pitch, before abruptly switching to a rapid tempo. His balls slapped loudly into her chocolate ass as he began pounding her slippery virgin passage, and Tasha's body thrashed beneath his muscular weight as she was wracked with magnificent virginal orgasms. Al fucked her gushing wet black pussy for several minutes before uttering a guttural cry and unloading deep inside her cunt. Then he turned her over and began fucking her from behind, as she cried out in euphoria, writhing in delight as he buried his enormous white cock inside her luscious hot black pussy again and again.
After another half hour, Connie couldn't wait any longer and demanded her turn. Tasha was completely senseless and incoherent with climactic pleasure and so couldn't object, so Al thrust several more times into her soaked satin snatch before unloading again inside her, flooding her virgin womb with his seed.
Then he pulled out and got onto his back as Connie straddled him, riding her incredibly well-hung stallion to orgasm after shrieking, thrashing orgasm... | null | null | Authors/Big_Al/Fuckbuddies.txt |
114,812 | Coeur_Minuit | rosenjack | You have to accept, first of all, that I never intended for any of the things that happened to actually happen. I know I'm still to blame because I allowed myself to have the thoughts in the first place, and then even more so for allowing those thoughts to become actions. But I swear to you, I started out normally enough. My tastes, my preferences, my sensibilities, were as well-adjusted as the next man, I'm certain of it. The only excuse, the only reason I can even approach, is that the loneliness drove me insane. I mean that in its most literal sense. I was out of my head with longing and desire, ready to end it all in the cleanest, least painful way I could find. The cure that presented itself, the love I found, did so much to warm the frozen wasteland my heart had become, that I can only think of it as good, as vital and necessary, even as I recognize that I need to be punished for it.
I was 38 and unemployed. I'd really rather not go into detail about how I came to be in that spot. The point is, after eight years of divorce, bitter, bitter loneliness, jobs I hated, and other general kicks in the crotch from life, I was at the bottom of the barrel.
Okay, let me back up a bit. Technically, legally, it wasn't a divorce, because we were never married. But after three months of bliss and fifteen months of steadily maturing misery, it felt like a divorce. When Lilly finally walked out on me, the day after my 30th birthday, I was a mumbling mess; emotionally damaged, with a newly minted sense of my worthlessness, I knew that Lilly had been my last chance at a relationship. In the years since, my self-esteem just kept finding new depths to sink to, losing me first one job, then another, until I finally ran out of jobs to lose.
I hadn't pursued Lilly, I hadn't even really known her before I found her one frigidly ugly, below-zero January night, passed out in an alley behind the Babylon lounge. We'd been in the same graduating class in high school; she was one of a dozen or so girls I'd nurtured a pathetic crush on from afar. Passing in the halls at school, or seeing her sometimes at the mall, I'd wished for the fortitude to approach her, knowing I never would. I had no idea whether she even knew I existed, and that's as far as it ever got.
Now here I was, ten years later, faced with the slowly growing, shocking warmth of recognition as I made my way through the dimly lit alley behind the bar. I learned later that she had just been dumped by her boyfriend and had chosen getting hammered as her means of coping. It looked like she had been urinating in the alley; there was a puddle underneath her, and although she had managed to get her pants and underwear down to do it, she had passed out before being able to pull them back up. As I walked up to where she lay, a wave of equal parts pity, fascination and prurience swept over me, with pity rapidly surging to the fore and nearly knocking me over. Standing over her there in the darkness, with the sound of "Mama" by Genesis seeping through the cracked window above the back door, I knew I couldn't leave her in that alley to freeze to death. I briefly considered the idea of going into the crowded, noisy, smoke-filled bar to try to find help, but I was afraid to leave her unattended while I did. As gingerly as I could, I pulled up her underwear and pants; she never stirred once as I did so, seemingly dead to the world. My official excuse that I have convinced myself to believe is that there must have been some sort of Florence Nightingale / wounded bird aspect to our encounter, which is what prompted me to carry her to my car and put her in the passenger seat; and with no clear idea of what to do with her, started back to my apartment. She woke up halfway back and wondered aloud where we were going; it seemed that wondering who I was or why she was in my car weren't tremendously important to her at the moment. "Back to my place," I had said, wondering at my audacity with just picking up a near stranger off the street, my utter lack of judgment in bringing her home, and a growing sense of trepidation at her reaction to having been picked up like that. I knew I should add, 'but now that you're awake, you can tell me where to take you,' and I was about to do just that, when she interrupted me with a hand on my leg. "Pull over," she slurred, "I'm gonna puke." I'm not sure, but I think it must have been right there, in a filthy patch of snow in front of the Mersey Avenue fire station, as I held back her long blonde hair while she emptied her stomach into the gutter, that I fell in love with her. When we got back to my place, I half-supported, half-carried her up the steps, and I had to prop her up against the wall while I unlocked the door, pinning her in place with my knee to check her unreliable balance. I tried to clean her up the best I could, but when she started complaining that her legs were freezing, I could see she really was shivering pretty hard and needed to get out of her damp things. I steered her into the bathroom and sat her on the toilet, where she tried to undo her pants and found the task beyond her. "Yer gon' havva do it," she said, looking around perplexed and then recognizing what kind of room she was in. "C'n I take a bath?" she said so matter-of-factly that it struck me as hilarious, and I was choking on my laughter as I told her I'd run one, but that I was worried about leaving her alone in the tub, in case she passed out again. "'sokay, you gimme bath, 'm too drunk to wash anyway" she finished. So, after starting the water running, I bent over her and, trying to avert my eyes like a gentleman (and failing miserably), stripped off her slush- and urine-soaked pants and panties, then lowered her into a hot bath (only pulling off her shirt and bra after the bath was over). I washed her gently with a bar of sandalwood soap that had been sitting unopened in the medicine cabinet for months, taking care to avoid any areas that were too private. I left her side only long enough to stretch out her shirt and bra over the back of the toilet to dry out. Hoping she wouldn't mind that I was using my own toothbrush, I helped her brush her teeth (she spit out the toothpaste in the tub as she was getting out), then I wrapped her in a towel and laid her gently in my bed. I was turning to go lay down on the couch when she grabbed my shirt and pulled me back to her, demanding to know if I thought she was ugly. I could tell she was still more drunk than sober, and I was unsure of how to answer. Finally, I just settled for the simple truth. "No," I said, "I think you're beautiful." As she tasted the sincerity and longing in my voice, it finally occurred to her to wonder who I was. "Do I know you?" she asked, but with a curious stress on the word 'you', as if it was really more of a statement that I was somebody different than the brutish hogs who had made her life so evil.
"My name is Brent," I said, and she held out her hand, saying "Pleaz to meetcha Bren', 'm Lilly." I grasped her hand to shake it, intending to tell her about my crush on her from high school. She held onto my hand and squeezed it significantly. "I was in bad trouble, wasn' I?" she said softly, and for a few seconds, I saw her as she was ten years before, the way I remembered her from our school days. "An' ya save me, dinya?" I nodded slowly and opened my mouth, but she pulled me down onto the bed before I could say anything.
"Yer my knight in shiny armor, aincha? Ya pick me up when the goddam bassard throw me down. Think I owe you one, Bren' ol' buddy," she murmured, pulling off the towel, "and I wanna pay up. Here ya go, pal, help y'self," this last said with a lyrical wave of her arm to indicate I should start in on her as if she were a buffet laid out for my benefit.
I know I turned red staring at her naked body, at the almost invisibly fine hair beneath her arms and the blond muff around her crotch, at her beautiful, round breasts; now that my peeping wasn't being done surreptitiously, but out in the open with her express consent, it was more that I could handle. "I can't, I really, I can't, Lilly," I stammered, "you might feel differently when you sober up."
"Mister goddamn boyscout Brent," she laughed, without the slightest trace of heat or anger, "'s okay, rilly. Sher, I'm drung, but I know th' score. Now don't get me mad, boyfren, doff the duds and screw me good and proper."I didn't know how to tell her that, as a 28-year-old virgin, I was terrified of insulting or amusing her with my clumsy, fumbling ignorance. She was so damned insistent, though. She finally grabbed me by the waist of my pants and started to take them off, so I backed off and finished the job, dazed at my lack of shame in undressing in front of her, and trembling now with anticipation and wanting. She pulled me on top of her and started to kiss my neck and chest, and I lit up with the sudden realization that if I just followed her lead and did what she did, I wouldn't have to worry about how to perform. It seemed to work for a bit, but it wasn't long before she pulled back and gazed at me unsteadily. "You haven't done this very much, have you?" she asked with a genuine smile of affection. I couldn't say or do anything, I just hung my head and wondered how to apologize. "'s okay," she laughed, laying a hand on my chest, "'s really easy, I'll teach you."
"I don't have any condoms," I said miserably. She smiled again, "Hey, that's okay Brent, I don't think I can make any babies, so just relax and 'enjoy the ride'. Don't worry, babe, we'll take it nice and slow." And we did.
I must have slept like a dead man. When I woke up, I realized I had neglected to take out my contact lenses before falling asleep. As I wandered through the apartment wrapped in the towel I had used on Lilly, trying to rub some moisture back into my eyes so I could focus, I realized I was alone. Half a pan of scrambled eggs sat cold on the stove; the egg crumbs and fork by the sink conjured an image of Lilly standing over the sink eating breakfast out of the pan. On the table was a note scribbled on the back of an old envelope, "You are a damn hard man to wake up. Thanks Bernie, I owe you for saving me, call for payoff. Called GF to pick me up. Lil", along with a phone number. It must have been late in the afternoon before I could get my face to stop smiling. I could have sworn that when I looked at my feet, they were definitely not even touching the ground.
It took me several years to call her; or, that's what it felt like anyway, forcing myself to wait all day before calling, yet scared to death at the possible outcome. I wanted to tell her so many things, but I was sure I'd die before I had the chance to get any of it out. When I finally did call, the only response I got was the answering machine. "Hi, this is Lilly. I'm not here right now, at least as far as YOU know, so why don't you just leave a message and we'll say I listened to it when I 'get home'", and I was amused and enamored of the way I could hear her putting quotation marks around the words 'get home'. "Um, hi, this is, uh, Brent, I, uh, uh, I, uh, spent the night with you last night," (God! Idiot! Can you be less smooth?) "and you left me your number, so, so uh, I just wanted to tell you how wonderful it was, and wondering, if you're not busy, if you'd like to get together and do something," (hah! yeah, right, like fucking each other's brains out), "because I can't stop thinking about you and just wanted to see if you were free." I was about to add my phone number and ask her to call me, when she picked up the phone.
"Hi, did you say your name is Brent?" she asked, and I made an affirmative noise. "Brent, what happened last night? I remember a couple of things, but most of it's a blank." 'Oh my God. She doesn't know. She doesn't know she deflowered me,' I thought, feeling suddenly light-headed and sitting down forcefully on the couch.
"Well," I started, "you were pretty, uh, sick" (drunk) "when I found you, uh, passed out behind the Babylon. I remembered you from high school, I wanted to help you but I didn't know if you were with friends or what had happened to you, I just knew you needed help, so I brought you home and, uh, cleaned you up and, uh, put you to bed, and... uh, then we, uh... we had, uh... we made, uh..."
"Yeah, I remember that part now," she said with a suddenness that told me she had just realized what happened. "Oh my God, that was your first time, wasn't it? Oh God, I'm so sorry! Please forgive me! Brent, are you in love with me?"
I was too astounded and dazed to know how to answer. I tried to say, 'No, Lilly, I'm not in love with you, I'm sorry,' but all that came out was, "Yes, I think so." Heavy sigh from Lilly. Couple more heavy sighs. Finally, "Okay, well, you'd better come on over. We'll just have to let it run its course, I guess. I do remember that I owe you my life, Brent, so we might as well get that into the deal right now." I puzzled over this when she said it; it wasn't until years later, when this conversation emerged from the depths of my memory, that I realized what she meant was that as long as she felt she still owed me ten or twelve more mercy fucks for saving her, and as long as I was in love with her (and she was certain I'd fall out of love with her sooner rather than later), we might as well play house. She was wise, but she was wrong about one thing: I never fell out of love with her; not really, anyway.
She moved in after the first week. The two girls she'd been staying with let me know with hints and sideways comments that they fully expected her to move back with them before too long, but I didn't see it. The first two months danced by like ashes from a winter bonfire. We had sex every day, sometimes two or three times a day; even when she had her period, she still insisted on getting me off with her hand. I think that, for the first month, she thought she was helping me make up for lost time, and for the second month, she was trying to glut me, to get me so totally satiated with sex that I got tired of it; but in the end, all she was doing was feeding my multiple addictions to her; sexual, mental, spiritual, emotional. The more we were together, the more of her I wanted. The third month was "the month of new stuff", as Lilly introduced a variety of techniques to our encounters. We got very heavily into oral, then it was shot glasses and hot wax, with a chaser of one tantric position after another. She persuaded me to perform anal sex on her (and that was a lesson all to itself; it was also the first time we used a condom), and even moved me a little of the way along the path toward bondage and S/M. We never got too far in that direction, and toward the end of that third month, our sex life settled back to what it had been, then dropped below the horizon. First there was a pause of 2 days, then 4, then it was a week; and by the end, when Lilly finally left me, it had been 3 months since we'd made love. Her goodbye is burned into my mind forever. Her folks had moved south a few years prior, and she was going to head south to live with them for a while, and she told me in no uncertain terms that this was the end of the road for us. I drove her to the bus depot, and as we sat side by side in the lobby, massaging each other's thighs and waiting for her bus to arrive, she found she couldn't deal with the feeling of imminent death radiating from me; so she took me by the hand and pulled me into the women's room. "One more for the good times," she said with a devil's grin as she backed into a stall and dropped her pants, and I mounted and "serviced" her, as she enjoyed calling it, for what I knew was the last time. It was the first time I'd ever had sex with tears in my eyes; I had no idea it wouldn't be the last.
I had never gotten around to telling Lilly that I didn't know whether she was my first time or not, because I was still unsure as to what counted, and for how much. When I was 15, I'd had a six-month relationship with a 17-year-old named Iris. She'd had several boyfriends, but for me she was my first love, and I thought about her more or less constantly in the years after. Iris and I never actually had intercourse, but we spent many nights in the basement of her house or mine with the lights off and the radio on, dry-humping through our underwear, feeling under each other's shirts; and Iris, on three separate occasions, took my member in her mouth and tried valiantly to get me off; but for some reason (nerves? tension? inexperience?) I was never able to orgasm from this. I didn't know if that counted as sex, especially since I never completed the act with Iris except when I was alone and picturing her in my mind; I suspected it did, but I wasn't sure how to reconcile the concepts "I have had sex" and "I am a virgin", so I never mentioned it to Lilly. Whatever. I loved Iris, I know I did. She was the first, she was burned into my soul the way no one else ever could be. I'm pretty sure I know now what love is, I might have then, too. All I know for real is that I loved being with her, and the day she broke up with me was the worst day of my life until Lilly left me. That day, the day Iris told me she couldn't be with me anymore, was a mosaic inside me; hard, permanent bits of faded color that jabbed into my soul like a faceful of broken glass. The only part of that memory that's smooth is the hours of crying that blended the daylight hours into the night.
The bigger picture, I guess, was that I was alone again, and knew I was going to be alone for the rest of my life. Both of the women whose interest I'd managed to capture had left me. I knew there was something wrong with me that prevented a woman from staying interested. With this as a foundation, I grew too depressed to hold any job for long, sloughing my way through one dead end after another.
The thought of just cashing it all in crossed my mind more than a few times over the years, even more so after I lost the last job.After some negotiation, the manager of my apartment complex agreed to let me work as a maintenance man for $200 a month and free rent. The catch was that I couldn't stay in my apartment; not as long as there were people willing to pay to rent it. I had to move into a little room at the back of the clubhouse, behind the indoor pool. It was really little bigger than a walk-in closet, but there was room for a cot and a dresser, and there was a bar to hang some of my clothes on. When I moved into that room, I stashed the rest of the stuff from my old apartment in one of the storage buildings that dotted the complex; not that I ever really had that much stuff to begin with. For bathroom and shower facilities, I had to make do with what was available at the pool, and my kitchen was in the common area of the clubhouse. Not terribly private, but I was in no position to complain, especially since I was being allowed to stay there for free. I didn't know much about furnaces and washers and dryers, but I knew how to read a manual. I didn't do too badly.
I found out much later that the manager was actually given a $1000 monthly allowance by the owner for maintenance. I guess the idea was that he could hire someone part-time to do it for that $1000, but he had trouble keeping anybody for that salary, so a lot of the time he had to do the maintenance himself, which he hated. He just pocketed the $1000 and told the owner he paid it as salary, and he never had to produce any further proof of the fake employee. When I came along, he saw a chance to keep pocketing $800 a month and pay me $200 to do the job he despised. I can't really blame or hate him for it; after all, I would have been on the streets otherwise. I had already lost my car when I couldn't afford the insurance and had to sell it anyway for the money; after that ran out, I got three months behind on the rent. I was rapidly coming up on month number four with still no cash; so when I got the $200 salary and free rent, the hard place suddenly became the semi-comfortable place, and I told the rock to go hump itself.
The clubhouse was centrally located in the complex and in addition to the pool, it also had a billiard table (upstairs), a reception area, and a little alcove with three ancient videogame consoles; Donkey Kong (good), Ms. Pac-Man (bad), and some racing game (ugly) whose name I forget. When you have the key to the consoles, you can rack up as many free games as you want. I never did break three grand on DK, my high score remains at 297,800.
The complex also owned a beat-up white pickup that I used to get supplies and run errands. The manager grudgingly gave me five dollars a week for gas to run the errands, and let me know that I was free to use the truck any other time I wanted but that if I did, I had to buy my own gas. I didn't use it for personal stuff very much, pretty much every dollar I got went toward groceries and sundries like shampoo, contact lenses and solution, et cetera. As I was rooting around in one of the storage buildings, I found a stash of stuff that had been left by previous tenants. Most of it was junk, but there was a 10-speed bike that I claimed. It had been pretty badly beaten up, but I spent a lot of time cleaning it and straightening it out, and I used that if I wanted to go anywhere.
My responsibilities also included the swimming pool filters and pumps. There wasn't really anybody to do the other maintenance, like making sure the pool was kept clean and keeping the area in shape, stocking the supply of towels that the complex kept on hand for tenants to use, so all that kind of fell on me too. That wasn't too bad, either, because it kept me busy, and I had a legitimate excuse to hang around the pool all day while I watched the women who came to swim. Angela Anderson, with her flowing blonde mane and 36-24-36 perfection. Sandra Ochs, with her charming, crooked smile and frizzy hair. Sally Riddick, with her enormous lovely breasts that rippled and bounced so wonderfully whenever she jumped off the diving board. Annette Ross, with her oversized buttocks (easily twice as large as the next woman), under whose enormous cheeks I would have happily suffocated. Julie Ann (never did learn her last name), whose legs really did seem to go right up to her neck. Others whose names escape me, but whose various roundnesses live on in my memory. I'd go around slowly picking up wet towels and taking them back to the laundry room, where I'd load the machines while fantasizing about whoever I'd just seen. It had been too many years, and I had never had the ability or looks to hit on any of them, or the confidence to do anything about it even if I had. I didn't want to hit on anybody anyway, I just wanted a friend, a steady relationship, somebody to just be with, to go places with, to eat with, to talk to, to snuggle with and have sex with, like I'd had with Lilly, and I didn't know how to get a relationship like that going out of a clear blue sky. So mostly I just hunched down there by the driers, breathing in the moist atmosphere and stroking my lonely member. Pathetic.
As time went by, I resorted to pleasuring myself with the occasional stroke book. Nothing really raunchy, mostly just photos of couples doing the deed, soft core for the most part, but nothing left to the imagination. Sometimes I thought I was making it worse by torturing myself with what I could never have, but I couldn't help it. The need was too great, the longing too intense. I always held it in check, though; I never had more than one magazine at a time, and I never left it laying out, but always tucked it away in a dresser drawer in my room, to remind myself that there was something shameful about using porn, and that I should never lose that sense of shame.
Anybody that's known loneliness, real soul-crushing ravenous loneliness, knows what nighttime is like. They know what it is when the darkness closes in and chokes you and devours you with agonizing slowness. They know that loneliness shares a basic identity at the subatomic level with cancer. Sometimes it drives you out into the night looking for anything to escape the pain. The clubhouse was pretty slow most nights, and I was tired of being trapped there anyway. Bars are noisy and expensive, and the only mall nearby closed at 9:00 pm. There was a video game arcade about three miles from the complex, and more than a few nights I made the hike, or biked over, just to hang out and watch people be with each other, laugh with each other, hug each other, kiss each other, trying desperately to feed myself with whatever little crumbs and flakes I could pry from their happinesses. Walking or riding home, I watched people driving around, the cars crawling past all stuffed with eyes, and when I would finally make it back at 3:00 am, back to my lonely little clubhouse, I'd fix a Long Island Iced Tea from a bottle of mix and a root beer from the vending machine; and all too often this method was my only means of getting to sleep. When that didn't work, I'd occasionally wander around the complex, looking at the mix of dark and lighted windows, wondering what was going on behind those panes; sometimes hanging out in the stairwells of the buildings, just for the scraps of conversation I could hear seeping through the walls. What a repulsive sight I must have presented, standing there in the hall, ear pressed up to the cold, unyielding wallboard as I tried to tease the least little sense out of the words. It was a miserable existence, with nothing to look forward to but more of the same. I was so ready to end it all, yet too afraid of botching the job and winding up a vegetable or a cripple, unable to finish what I'd started; or even worse, succeeding and then finding out that I was wrong, that there really is an actual Hell; although how Hell could have been worse than my life, I couldn't imagine.
5 ...Pretty little one that I adore, you're the only girl my heart beats for... My Cherie Amour (Stevie Wonder)
Rose was ten years old the first time I ever laid eyes on her. I was sitting in the lobby of the clubhouse; it was about six o'clock on a warm summer evening, and I was drinking a cream soda when she wandered in. That moment is frozen in my mind forever. The radio was playing "My Cherie Amour" when the door opened and a mop of brown hair stuck its head in, followed by the girl underneath. She was probably under four and a half feet tall, wearing sandals, jean shorts, and a t-shirt with the prism and rainbow from the "Dark Side of the Moon" album cover. I watched as she idly walked over to the kitchen area and poked around in the cupboards and refrigerator, pausing to turn on the cold water faucet over the sink for a couple of seconds. As she came out of the kitchen, she saw me for the first time, and gave me a shy smile that almost broke my heart.
"Hi, my mom and I just moved in today," she said, "and mom said I could check this place out while she signs some stuff in the office."
"Sure, help yourself," I told her, "this place is for anybody that lives here. There are games in that alcove over there, and down that hallway is the swimming pool. Do you like to swim?"
"Yeah, I love to swim," she said. "Can you swim anytime you want?"
"Well, it's supposed to be closed after 10 on weeknights and midnight on Friday and Saturday, but I don't say anything to anybody if they're having fun. Most people leave on time anyway."
"Oh," she said, and her eyes got a little bigger, "are you the lifeguard?"
"No," I laughed, "we don't have a lifeguard. I just pick up around the place and do odd jobs here and there. I'm Jack of all trades." Smiling at her felt even better when she returned the smile with a 200 watter of her own. "Do you like soda pop?" I asked, still smiling."Mostly just root beer," she said, ticking it off on her finger like the first item in a list, "but I like cream soda" (item number two) "which I see you have some of, as well."
"Well then, come over here and let me get you one," I laughed, and I led the way over to the soda machine on the far wall. When I pulled out the key for the machine, opened the front, lifted a cream soda, closed and locked it, and handed the can to her, her hand flew up to her mouth and her eyes were huge.
"Oh my god, that was amazing! That was so flippin' cool! You are one handy guy to know! Thank you!"
I leaned in conspiratorially. "I don't do that for just anybody you know, only me. And now you. Guess I just consider it a fringe benefit." Putting my hand dramatically to my mouth, as if trying to prevent anybody but her from hearing me, I said in an obviously fake sotto voce, "The pay ain't that great, to tell you the truth." I was rewarded with a genuine giggle. "You guys will get free stuff, anyway, at the meet and greet. It's this lame party the complex throws once a month so new tenants can meet the current tenants. They lay out pizza and chips and soda, and somebody usually brings dessert. You just missed the last one, the next one is more than three weeks away. Tell your mom about it if you don't see anything on the notice boards. That's supposed to be my job, too, keeping those boards up to date, but I gotta tell ya, it ain't much fun. God, listen to me complain! You'd think I hate my life."
"No, no," she said earnestly, and laid a little hand on my forearm, "I think your life sounds cool as all Hell! Oh! I mean, uh, uh..." (she stammered so charmingly), "cool as heck! I mean, uh, uh..."
I felt laughter coming up from the gut as I said, "Don't worry about it, sweetheart! I like a woman who can curse a little. Makes her more human, you know? More real. More fun." I wanted to put my hand over hers as it lay on my arm, just for the human contact, but I couldn't bring myself to do it, to take anything that even resembled a liberty with her.
At that moment, the door opened and a pretty brunette stuck her head in. "Rose, honey, let's go move in, I've got the keys. Oh, hello there," she said, this last directed to me.
"Hi," I said, "would you like me to help carry boxes or anything?"
"Oh, thanks, that's really sweet of you, but we'll manage. We don't have that much stuff. Come on, Rose, let's go." Rose walked out with her mother. Just before she left, she glanced out to make sure her mother was far enough ahead of her, then turned and gave me that shy smile again.
"Well, I guess I'll be seeing you around. It was really, really nice to meet you, Jack." And then she was gone before I could tell her my name was Brent.
The next time I saw her was the next day, when she came down to swim. She was wearing a pink one-piece decorated with roses, a skinny kid with all the beauty of youth, just on the verge of starting to fill out. She gave me a huge grin when she saw me and came over to where I was picking up towels and tossing them in a laundry basket.
"Hi, Jack!" she said, and I'd have sworn she fluttered her eyelashes at me just the least little bit.
"Hi, Rose," I said, and I was about to correct her on my name, when I paused. I don't know what made me hesitate; maybe it was because Jack was the first name she had ever called me, which sort of meant she had named me, and that pleased me for some obscure reason. But whatever the reason, I chose instead to comment on the huge beach towel she was carrying. It had a picture of mermaids in the ocean, breasts demurely covered by flowing locks of hair, and I remarked that I liked her towel, then pointed out where she could get a towel from a basket near the diving board if she ever forgot to bring the mermaids with her.
"Do you swim, Jack?" she asked, and I realized I had better correct her sooner rather than later. "My name's really Brent," I told her with a smile, "when I said I was Jack of all trades, that was just an expression. And yes, I do swim, but not as much as you'd think for someone who's around a pool all the time. And I'd kind of like it if you keep calling me Jack. It'll always remind me of how we met." She blushed just a little, then nodded. "Okay, Jack it is," she said, and it has been ever since.
Rose swam for a while, then got out and sat down at the table with me to talk. She told me about her parents' divorce, about moving from place to place with her mom, and about how with each move, she hoped it was the last one, that she could just settle into one place for a while and get to make friends. She spent a lot of time talking about how horribly lonely she was. She rambled for a long while, and I just let her. I could see how easy on the eyes she was going to be when she got older, how sweet and pretty she was just then. Looking back on it now, I can see that it was wrong to entertain such thoughts, but at the time, it was pleasant just to sit there and imagine what she would look like when she got to be 16, 18, 20 years old.
Rose started asking all about me. Where did I stay, how did I like being a handyman, did I have many friends? I wound up telling her far more than I intended. Far, far more. I shared with her that I didn't have any friends either, so I knew all about loneliness, and how bad it felt to just want to have someone to call friend, someone to be closer to than anybody else on earth. It felt so good, so very damned good, to get even a little of it off my chest that it was like a narcotic, and I had to keep talking to keep taking hits of that feeling. I felt like I was floating, or maybe drifting on some unseen tide, literally high with the sensation of being able to share my heart. I swear I don't know how we got so close, so fast, it just happened, and I don't know how it could have happened any differently. I even wound up showing her my room behind the pool, which she thought was fantastic. To her, living behind a swimming pool seemed like an adventure, like having a neat hiding place in plain sight.
After that, we saw each other on an almost daily basis. She spent a lot of time around the pool, and I told her that if she ever needed to just get away and be alone for awhile, she was welcome to go into my room even if I wasn't there. I went so far as to show her where I hid the spare key to my room, and then as I also showed where I hid the spare key to the soda machine, I extracted a promise from her not to overdo it on the root beer; also to be extra careful to never get caught. A distant alarm was going off in the back of my head, trying to warn me about the danger I was setting myself up for; but I didn't heed it, I shoved it down as much as I could so I could just enjoy Rose's friendship. Twice in that first week alone, she came into my room and sat on the cot or the floor while I turned on the radio or played a cassette and we talked about our lives, our hopes, our likes and dislikes, and basically just cemented a lifelong friendship.
The strongest connection we had right at the start was our mutual loneliness. I think we recognized something in each other, something of the savage hunger for companionship that hunted us down like animals and nailed us in the heart. Rose told me that her mom, Marjorie, had left her dad, Stan, when she was six, taking her on a cross-country trek from one city to another, hunting down relatives to latch onto, as she made a desperate effort to get back on her feet as a single mom. With each move, the strain of making friends, then having to give them up, had been devastating to Rose. She was starting to feel, she confided, that she was never going to have so much as one good friend all her life. Marjorie tried to be there for her as much as she could, but all too often Rose had been left alone in whatever apartment or boarding house they were in at the time while her mom tried to get on with the business of surviving. She didn't blame her mom, but she fiercely missed having her dad around. She started to mist up as she talked about him, and I could see a full cloudburst on the horizon. I was bold enough to hold her face in my hand and dab at the corner of her eye with my thumb. "Life is long, Rose," I offered as I gazed into those huge innocent eyes, "and nobody knows what waits for us. You might get your dad back yet. I admit, it seems unlikely, but you just have to hold onto that hope. Sometimes hope is the only thing we have." She sniffled and snuffed and wiped her eyes, and her watery smile was a thing of such radiant beauty that it reached into my chest and squeezed my heart so hard that I almost started crying myself.
As she probed gently into the reasons for my loneliness, she wanted to know about my past loves. Had I ever been married? What was it like? Did I miss them? Did I want to get back with them? I mentioned Iris briefly, describing her as my first love (which drew a big dreamy sigh from Rose); as I told her, I got a strange sensation in my stomach that had something to do with my telling her about Iris, when I had never so much as mentioned that part of my life to Lilly. Of course, she wanted to know all about my relationship with Iris, and I obliged the best I could by dredging up my feelings and leaving out the pseudosex.When I said that I had often called Iris on the phone just before going to bed because I wanted her voice to be the last thing I heard before going to sleep, Rose produced a weird little wail. I thought at first something was wrong with her, but then she drew a huge breath and, laying a hand on my shoulder and gazing earnestly into my eyes, told me that was the most romantic thing she'd ever heard. I hadn't thought of it in those terms before, and it gave me a slow flush of pleasure to consider it. Then I gave Rose a quick sketch of my life with Lilly. I couldn't have gone into too much detail without talking about our sex life, so I kept it short and sweet. It really wasn't fair of me to do that to Lilly, telling Rose about the heartbreak and agony of the walkout, and not telling her about the beginning, about the three most ecstatic months of my life that Lilly gave me before she walked out. In the end, what Rose understood about me was that out of a life of 38 years, less than 2 of them had been with a partner, and less than half that time had been happy for me.
See, Rose is so smart. She's sharp, and she started picking up on my moods right away, knowing when I needed a little extra zaniness to pull me out of a bad spot. It felt so good to get so much attention from another person, especially one as funny and as quick as my little Rose, that I willfully blinded myself to her age; too often, I thought of her not as a 10-year-old, or as a little girl, but as a confidante and pal. Chums. And I loved her as such, although I didn't use the word love at that time when I thought about our relationship. To tell the truth, I don't think I ever really thought about our relationship at all, at that point. There was nothing to think about, nothing to analyze. She was simply my best friend, my only friend, and I knew I was fond of her, and that was about it. No tortured soul-searching, no endless self-fought battles over the meaning of our relationship. Yet.
One thing I did notice (and it should have set off warning bells in my head) was that I no longer seemed to be instinctively drawn to the women who came to swim. Sure, I still noticed them, but more and more often as I fantasized about them, I realized it was an effort to do so. The sex-crazed daydreams that had crowded my skull and refused to leave, that had taken up permanent residence in my thoughts, suddenly found themselves on the back stoop, crowded around the door, knocking and yowling to come back in; and it took an act of will to force myself to recapture the lust. I don't know when I finally gave up forcing it, but I do know that I did. I might have chalked it up to long overdue maturity, or simply having Rose's friendship to fill the void, but whatever it was, I didn't bother to analyze it; I simply accepted it. The ladies fell out of favor, and I couldn't bother myself to mourn the loss...
8 ...you look through the years and see what you could have been, oh, what you might have been, if you had had more time... Take The Long Way Home (Supertramp)
I believe Marjorie knew how much time Rose was spending at the clubhouse, but I didn't think she had any idea that most of that time was spent with me, or how close we had become. At the meet and greet, I could tell Marjorie had had a few drinks before she came, because she seemed a little unsteady, and at the clubhouse bar she had mixed herself some kind of cocktail and was nursing it along. While Rose fed quarters into the Ms. Pac-man machine (knowing she could go get the key and get her quarters back once she was alone), Marjorie chatted me up, leaning in just a little too close and putting her hand on my back just a little too often. I tried to pretend she was hitting on me, but I knew it wasn't really so; the sense of her slipping sobriety was all the explanation I needed. She got so close that I could actually feel the warmth of her body on my skin, and the feel of her fingers in the small of my back got my attention like nothing else would have. I wanted to return the gesture, to put my fingers on her back, to be able to feel her, to have that contact (however briefly), as a promise, a prelude to something more; wanted it so badly, was burning with it, a man on fire, but I didn't dare, didn't trust myself, didn't trust the situation. Still, it fueled a pleasant daydream in which I was dating Marjorie and being a father to Rose. Marjorie told me about her divorce, seemingly reluctant to discuss it yet somehow driven to get it out; as if she owed me some kind of backstory on the little girl I was seeing so much of. Stan had made a game effort to keep in touch with Rose, Marjorie admitted, as they fled (her word) from one place to another; at least for the first handful of months. Stan sent birthday cards and Christmas gifts, and he actually talked to Rose on the phone two or three times, but he could never get anything worked out to come and see her, or to have her visit him. In the end, Stan had just drifted out of the picture. Marjorie hadn't wanted any alimony or child support, because she honestly just wanted to put Stan behind her forever. Many times she regretted that decision, especially when she got laid off from one menial job after another and had to keep starting over somewhere else. As her confession trailed off, her eyes seemed to go out of focus, roving about the clubhouse. When she had made a full circuit of the room, her gaze came back to rest on me, and she put a hand on my back, rubbing briefly (!) and moving up to rest the hand on my shoulder (!). She leaned in conspiratorially, until her mouth was only inches from my ear; but when she spoke, it was in a normal conversational tone of voice. She thanked me for befriending Rose, and something in the way she worded it made it sound like I was doing it out of some kind of honor or pity or nobility. She was grateful beyond words (she said) for having me around to treat her daughter so nicely. I realized then that Rose had been telling her mother about me; the tiny alarm got a little louder at the thought of her finding Rose and me alone in my room, but I had started to get pretty good at muffling the alarm, and this was just one more. Marjorie admitted that she didn't have as much time for Rose as she should have, and she genuinely regretted robbing Rose of a stable childhood. She had a steadier job now than what she had been surviving on, and it looked like she was actually going to be able to stay put for a while. Even so, she was gratified that Rose should have made such a good friend of me. She'd rather have her daughter spending time in a clean place close by with a decent guy like me to look out for her, than out there, who knows where, doing who knows what, with who knows what kind of creeps. I wasn't quite sure how to take it that I had been granted status as "not one of the creeps". I supposed it was comforting, to think that something about me encouraged that kind of trust.
9 ...smile relieves a heart that grieves, remember what I said, I'm not waiting on a lady, I'm just waiting on a friend... Waiting On A Friend (The Rolling Stones)
Summer ended, and so I lost my time with Rose during the weekdays while she was in class. For Rose, school was school. Nothing special, just boring classes and crappy lunches. She was naturally good at English and hated math, same as me. I tried to tutor her on math the best I could, and we struggled through the homework together. Many nights Marjorie had to work late, but Rose didn't mind, because it gave her the opportunity to tap my brain. We sat there together on the couch, sometimes side by side, our legs almost touching as I breathed in the heady atmosphere of her presence, sometimes curled up on opposite ends of the couch with our feet together, engaging in the occasional foot fight and trying to tickle each other with our toes. In school she had made a few acquaintances, girls with names like Brittany and Callista and Jalisha, but they were all a year or two older than Rose, and she confided to me that she couldn't really consider any of them to be friends, especially since she knew that next year, they'd all make the move up to junior high, leaving Rose to flounder by herself for a year. Still, they provided fodder for her stories and quips. I've wondered countless times since then, if she hadn't had me as her first close friend, whether it would have turned out differently, whether she would have made better friends with kids at school.
Rose came bouncing in one brisk September evening with even more sparkle than usual, to tell me that her mom had just bought a desktop computer and signed up with the complex's Internet provider. It was an older computer that Marjorie had found at Goodwill, cheap but serviceable. Rose was so happy at the thought of what that represented, to her anyway; a commitment by her mom to stay in one place, not move out in another couple of months. She said she'd love to have me come over sometime to surf the web with her, and I made a noncommittal noise. I was somehow uneasy with the thought of visiting her in her apartment, and it just felt right to keep my distance, from that place anyway. I was afraid of the dynamics of the situation, of being in close quarters with both Rose and her mom. Rose kept after me, until I finally relented and came over one October night, maybe a couple of weeks before Halloween. Marjorie greeted me at the door, putting a glass of wine in my hand and gripping my elbow, gesturing to the corner of the living room where Rose was perched at the card table where the computer had been set up. I pulled up a chair to sit beside her, watching as she showed me a couple of cutesy little girly games (her words), Halloween screensavers, dancing animals, and a LOT of video on YouTube. Every once in a while, she'd hit a site that was blocked.Marjorie had apparently been given some free software as a bonus for signing up, and not knowing what any of it was for, she just installed all of it. One of those items was a site blocker, protection that was supposed to allow parents to let their children have free reign on the web without having to worry about inappropriate content. The first few times we hit that block, Rose just shrugged it off and went on. But before the night was over, she was getting more and more annoyed with the censorship. At one point, she looked around to make sure Marjorie was out of earshot, then pulled me close to whisper urgently, her lips almost brushing the surface of my ear, "Do you think you can figure out how to get this block thing turned off?" I shared her sideways glance at Marjorie, then slowly shook my head. 'I don't know', I mouthed, 'but I'll see what I can do.' Mentally, I took note of a few of the blocked site names (prettyposy.com, pots-n-shox.com, stuffermaker.com, letsdoanotherone.com, 3 or 4 others) making a silent promise to somehow research their content before giving in to such a request. I scribbled down and stashed the name of the site blocking product, figuring I could use a machine at the library to try to do the research, logging onto their network using the serial number on my library card to gain access. Surprise. Even though the library didn't use that site blocker, they used some different product that did the same thing, so I couldn't check any of the sites Rose had been blocked from; except one, slideitin.com. I was mildly surprised to see that the library's blocker allowed through a site that had been blocked on Rose's machine, and this was how I first realized what big differences there can be in software products. The one other thing I was interested in, wasn't blocked; it was the online owner's manual for the site blocker on Rose's computer. The vendors had been nice enough to include profuse illustrations showing exactly how to manipulate their product, including selectively allowing certain sites through at will. The only stitch in the deal was that the whole process was guarded by a password; but knowing something about Marjorie and her state of mind most of the time, I knew it was a pretty safe bet she'd never changed the password from the default that was staring at me from the pages of the onscreen user's manual. Just for giggles, I tried to access the online manual for the product that was in use on the library computer. Surprise again; the site was blocked. When I logged off, the site blocker included a little slap in the face for good measure; a popup window thanked me, addressing me by name (Brent) and library card serial number, and displayed how many restricted websites I'd tried to visit (27) in a 15.3 minute session. Actually made me shiver a little, to think how much information had been collected on me just then.
Rose kept me young. She was always cracking jokes and she really knew how to make me laugh until my sides hurt. She listened to a lot of music I'd never heard before. I bought her a Y-connector for her MP3 player so we could both listen to her tunes, artists with names like Pink, Evanescence, Staind, Creed, Hoobastank, and I played my cassettes and CDs for her, exposing her to classics like the Beatles, Stones, Doors, Zeppelin, Springsteen and so on. Even though she had a Pink Floyd shirt, she'd never heard their music before, and turning her on to "Dark Side of the Moon" was especially gratifying. Because it was all new to her, it became like new to me also. I was hearing it through her ears, and it was sweet to rediscover newness in music I had listened to for so long. Rose dropped by my room every day, often just popping in unannounced, flopping down on the floor and hooking her legs up over my cot, and launching into an account of her day at school or whatever else came into her head. In my turn, I discovered I always had a little bit more of my life to share, my insights and disappointments, whatever seemed germane to the conversation, and she drank it all in, never so much as batting an eye. She was my precious. She was my ray of sunshine. She was My Rose.
From time to time, Rose asked if I had ever found a way around the website blocker. This was the first and only deliberate lie I spoke to her; I told her no, I hadn't solved it yet, and that I would keep trying. 'Only a little longer,' I told myself, 'just hold her off until she's 13, you can do that, can't you old man, help her hold onto her innocence for as long as you can?'
Life went on. Rose was growing up before my eyes, and it was the day before her 11th birthday when I first realized what a struggle it was becoming, not to think about her "like that". I'd been having trouble coming up with a birthday gift for her, and when I caught myself looking seriously at bikinis, I got scared, really scared, to realize how much pleasure it gave me to picture Rose in one. Pervert, I bitterly denounced myself, filthy monster. Reality kicked in, I took a step back and forced myself to remember she was still just a little girl; I bought her a huge teddy bear instead. As it turned out, Marjorie gave her a bikini anyway, a flimsy white thing with red roses on the crotch and bra, with a cut identical to Marjorie's own flag bikini (a blue bra with a white star in the center of each cup and tied together with spaghetti strings, and a red and white vertically striped panty that rode up so high on the hip that top to bottom, you could clearly see some part of her entire body). Ye gods.
I could see more clearly all the time the woman Rose was becoming. The growth of her breasts was gradual; I'd sometimes look back at the Rose in my memory and realize the Rose in front of me was subtly bigger. Her butt was swelling magnificently as her hips expanded. 'Nuff said. I was still too nervous to approach any of the women I saw around the complex, and they all seemed to be married or dating anyway. Marjorie and I talked a few times, but nothing ever came of it. Several times when she came down to watch Rose swim, or occasionally get in the pool herself, she'd sit and chat with me, drink in hand. I caught on quickly and started keeping a bottle of Bacardi close by, just in case. I was getting distinct impressions that she was flirting with me. After these chats, I'd realized I'd probably been flirting back. It was probably only the second or third time we'd chatted before she started punctuating her remarks with a hand on my arm or shoulder, lingering just a little bit longer each time. It took me a little longer, although I did finally get the nerve to start touching her the same way. I realized as I leaned over to touch her for the first time that I could see through the open spaces in her clothes, the gaps where her shirt parted, to see her chest, her ample round breasts, and even inside her bra, I could just pick out the darker red of her areola resting against the white of the cup. Yeah, I was ashamed of myself for looking, but that didn't stop me. It got to where I was finally comfortable enough around her that I thought I could ask her out, but the only vehicle I had access to was the complex's rickety old pickup, and I would have felt an utter fool borrowing her car to take her out; so we just slid by each other like two ships that pass from a safe distance.
I still hadn't given up my habit of using stroke books; I always kept one magazine around at any given time, but the sense of shame was as strong as ever, and I knew that I had to take even more care to keep it secret. Simply stashing it in my underwear drawer wasn't safe enough anymore, so I made a false bottom for that drawer from a scrap piece of plywood. Honestly, it was pretty effective; the plywood was a close enough match to the inside of the drawer that even I wouldn't have suspected anything if I hadn't known. This was a secret that I absolutely HAD to keep hidden; there was no way I wanted Rose to know I looked at porn, and I sure as hell didn't want anybody who knew about our friendship to know, either.
My relationship with Rose and my porn habit were the two ways I kept my loneliness at bay, and I tried to keep those two sides of my life carefully segregated. Any time I found myself straying, accidentally thinking about Rose the wrong way, I managed to pull myself back on course, and was proud of my effort at correcting the slow drift. Thankfully, the sight of Marjorie in a bikini was a blessedly welcome distraction to keep my thoughts away from Rose.
In December, I was caught completely off-guard when Rose told me she'd gotten her first period. She was very shy about it, but also bursting to tell me; "You'll never ever ever guess what I got today as a late birthday present..." spoken with her head down to the floor but her eyes rolled up to see me. I was pouring a cup of coffee at the time. When I professed ignorance, she told me, almost too quietly to hear,"...my period," and the pot slipped in my hand and I scalded myself, although I kept Rose from seeing it. She told me she'd discussed it with Marjorie, who had sat down with her for a belated discussion of the facts of life that proved frustrating and unsatisfying for Rose. She could tell her mother was not very engaged in the conversation, and she still had more questions than answers. All she'd really gotten from the talk was how important it was to keep herself clean, and how to use tampons and pads. My hands were actively shaking by this point, and it was as I tried to cover my nerves by taking a drink of coffee, that I learned Marjorie had demonstrated, and then watched as Rose tried it herself to make sure she got it right, how to insert a tampon. Yeah, I know.No man in his right mind could have avoided feeling the way I did on hearing that, none of them would have been able to get that image out of their head either. I was gratified that Rose chose to ask me to help her fill in the gaps, but I was achingly nervous as to how to word it. We talked about getting pregnant, and as delicately as I could, I described the mechanics by which sperm is introduced to egg, and the fact that there are only a few days each month when that could happen, before the egg gets washed away by blood. I left out the part about the man's penis getting stiff and the woman's vagina getting wet. I was too scared to discuss the concept of sexual desire, although I did use the word 'cum' and then immediately blanched inwardly at the explicitly sexual images it conjured for me. It didn't seem to occur to Rose to wonder how a limp penis could be inserted into a vagina, but then again, I don't think she knew to think in terms of limp or stiff. I don't know, maybe I'm fooling myself. But I do feel sure that she wouldn't have thought to get that information from the Internet; to her, the primary purpose of the web was entertainment. And her period was such an intensely personal and specific experience for her that I don't think it occurred to her she could find that information in such a general place as the web. At any rate, I thought I had dodged a bullet insofar as that Rose didn't ask me for more information on the male anatomy. I don't know how I would have answered her if she had; or at least, I didn't know at the time.
Love. God-damned love. I knew, I KNEW, God damn it, I KNEW, yet somehow prevented myself from knowing that I knew, that I was in full-fledged, card-carrying, romantic, spiritual, ecstatic, physical, mental, sexual, rapturous Love with her. What piecework is the possessor of one X and one Y, how fractured in reason, how separated in faculties, in form and moving how depressingly deluded, in action how like an idiot, in apprehension how like a moron.
How long had I been skirting the realization? How many mornings had I woken, remembering that I had dreamed of her the night before, yet been writing off my erections as normal morning occurrences that had nothing to do with her? But a feeling like this, a life-defining emotion like this, could only be hidden, even from myself, for so long, It was only a matter of time, really, before I was forced to confront it, to realize it existed. It only needed a catalyst, I suppose.
11 ...once the words are spoken, something may be broken... What Can You Lose (by Stephen Sondheim)
The common room of the clubhouse had a console TV that had seen better years. The manager kept putting off replacing it, although he did finally spring for a DVD player to supplement the VHS job. The cabinet in the corner was stuffed with VHS tapes; the complex had started with a modest library, and with every tenant who moved out and left tapes behind, the collection grew. Many was the afternoon or evening when Rose and I would pull up the overstuffed couch and watch movies from that collection, or DVDs that I had checked out from the library, or rented (or traded for tapes that we had duplicates of), or that she'd borrowed from schoolmates. We both liked our popcorn plain and our soda cold and stolen. We went through phases where we'd zero in on a particular category; '70's comedies, Jamie Lee Curtis films, Hammer horror, Tim Burton movies, and so on. She was royally bemused by my confession that there were two movie scenes that made me cry every time; the very end of "The Wizard of Oz" and the airport scene in "Casablanca". Rose wanted to put it to the test, and I obliged her, both by watching the films and by shedding a few tears, as I knew I would, when the aforementioned scenes came on.
So it hit me as a fiercely unnerving epiphany one Saturday night in January when we watched "Dick Tracy" (as a segue from a Warren Beatty retrospective to films that had been made from comics); midway through the picture, there's this scene where Mandy Patinkin is singing a duet with Madonna, "What Can You Lose?" Now, I challenge you to come up with a more perfect anthem for unrequited love than that song. Anyway, Rose and I were sitting fairly close together like we always did, our legs almost but not quite touching, her hand carelessly draped in the space between our legs, actually touching my leg through my sweats, and as the lyrics to this song played out, I felt like I'd been slugged in the face with a shovel. The song was reaching into my chest and ripping out the ribcage. There it was, right in front of me, breathing in my face, my dilemma all wrapped up in a perfect package, telling me that I loved her. Not only that I loved her, but also that I needed to tell her of my love, and in the same breath forbidding me to do it, partly because I might scare her or confuse her into retreating, but mostly because she was just a baby and I was well into middle age, and it was WRONG, just dead WRONG. In those few seconds, the weight of the years, the agony and emptiness and sheer need, overwhelmed me, because the answer to it all was sitting right beside me, yet we might as well have been on different planets. Before I knew what was happening, I was bawling like a baby and struggling mightily to prevent Rose from seeing my tears. Of course, that failed utterly. Rose was startled to see me weeping so profusely, and she wanted to stop the film. I told her no, I was fine, I just wanted to finish watching, but she kept a close eye on me for the rest of the night. When we parted, Rose gave me the first hug she'd ever trusted herself to give; shy and fiercely protective at the same time, she squeezed me tight around the middle and laid her head on my chest, telling me that she could hear my heart beating, and what a wonderful sound it was. Up close like that, I was able to take her in as a whole; filling up my arms, my eyes, my nose. The aroma, the simple sheer redolence of her skin, a smell uniquely human and uniquely her. Her breasts, little mounds of firm flesh, smashed up against me, boring into me, drilling through me, demanding recognition, and I was sure I could feel the firmness of her nipples against my stomach as she gripped me. As I looked down, she turned her face up to gaze earnestly into mine, and as we stood there, swaying imperceptibly in a nonexistent breeze, her lips were close, so close, too close, and I really have no idea how I kept myself from smothering her mouth with kisses right there and then. If I learned every language on earth, I still wouldn't be able to describe my feelings at that moment. Sweet, sweet, unbearably sweet, Hellishly sweet torture, to go so far and no further. But at least for now, I had part of her. There were more hugs to come; just a few, here and there; enough to look forward to with hungry anticipation. But it was that night, when we watched "Dick Tracy", that I finally admitted to myself just how deeply in I'd gotten. I no longer had the crutch of self-imposed ignorance. Bare before the all-seeing eye of desire and regret, pinned in place like a creature being vivisected by it's own need to give and receive love, and it HURT, worse than any pain I'd ever felt before, physical or otherwise.
12 ...This is the end, my only friend, the end... I'll never look into your eyes again... can you picture what will be, so limitless and free, desperately in need of some stranger's hand... The End (James Douglas Morrison)
There came a sullen, gray day in February when the world seemed to be standing still; the sky was a leaden blanket of ice clouds that shut out any hint of light or warmth, indifferently dropping ice pellets on both the just and the unjust, on the lonely and unloved. It was on this day that Rose learned her father was dead. At around 5:30 in the afternoon I started to worry about her, since I usually saw her before that time of day. She didn't show up at the clubhouse until later, almost 8 o'clock in the evening, and when she did show up, I learned immediately what had happened. Her eyes were streaming before she even got the words out, and she threw herself into my arms and hugged me tight to her with a fierceness that told me she was afraid of losing me too, as she choked out the details. Her mother had picked her up after school; an unusual occurrence in itself, that tipped Rose right away to the fact that something was wrong. (Marjorie's shift had her working until 5:30 or 6 most evenings, so Monday through Thursday Rose walked the mile and a half home; I made sure that my once-a-week errands using the complex's pickup coincided with school letting out on Friday afternoon, so I could give Rose a ride home.) This afternoon, though, Marjorie had been waiting for her. As they sat there, parked across the street from the school, she informed Rose that her father had been killed in an accident, a stupid hit and run as he was trying to cross a street. Marjorie had only found out that day, even though the accident had happened a couple of months before. I knew Marjorie must have been deeply affected by the news, maybe even devastated. Although she seemed to be getting by just fine without Stan in her life, in the little bit I'd heard her talk about him, I'd caught glimpses of a much deeper story I knew I'd get to the bottom of someday. For now, though, I was getting a picture of mother and daughter sitting there in the car, Marjorie holding Rose tenderly and Rose in mortal agony.
Rose was doubly inconsolable in that she had not only lost her father, but hadn't even found out in time to be able to go to his funeral or say goodbye. Not that she would have been able to travel to where the funeral was anyway, but the thought of not even having the chance, of having the illusion of choice snatched from her, made it so much worse.Between great heaving convulsions and trembling spasms, she said it was like having all the air sucked out of the room before she'd even had a chance to take a deep breath. She sobbed and shuddered for the rest of the evening, and her grief was so great that it became my grief too, my pain, and I joined her in crying and aching. We just sat there on the floor of my room, with her in my lap like a frightened, lonely child, her soft girl arms around me, choking the breath from me, a heavenly pressure. We held each other while I stroked her hair and tried to soothe her the best I could, hoping the feeling of being held close eased her as much as it satisfied me. I was heartbroken for her, and furious with fate for having delivered such a careless backhand to such a precious one, but the majority of my emotion was reserved for a nauseous shame at the erection that had erupted in my lap, and the twists and writhings I had to carefully manage, so as to prevent Rose from learning firsthand of my wretched desire. If she felt my hardness as she straddled me, she gave no indication of it, just kept squeezing me tight, as if she meant to absorb me into her, to have our chests melt together so that our hearts could touch. "Oh God, oh G-God," she wailed, "don't you l-l-leave me t-too, Jack," she sobbed, "don't you d-d-dare ever leave me, promise me you won't go, Jack, p-promise! S-s-swear it, Jack, swear you'll never go away!" And I had to swear, even though I knew we had no control over the gutwrenchings Fate likes to deliver. I certainly had no plans to go, but then neither had Stan... The one thing I had over him, I reflected, was that I had Rose. That was more than enough inducement for me to fight for every last second here.
Rose had been eagerly anticipating my Mayday birthday, and on that day, she presented me with a little bottle of Old Spice. Something in what she said when she gave it to me made me think she chose it because she'd remembered Stan having worn it. I was just grateful for the thought. With the cologne, she also presented me with a chocolate cake she'd baked herself, white frosting with a huge blue 39 written in icing. We spent the rest of the night eating cake and playing Gin Rummy. I remember it so vividly; I can close my eyes at any moment and replay the whole thing in perfect detail... we were sitting on the floor of the common area, on either side of the coffee table, the subdued lighting from the corner lamps softening the entire room, the smell of Old Spice that I had applied drifting through the evening, the radio gently flooding the room with jazz from the university station. Jokingly, I thanked Rose for putting the big blue 39 on the cake, for rubbing my face in it, and in retaliation she reached over and pushed the piece of cake in my hand into my face, rubbing frosting on my cheek. She reached up to wipe the gob of frosting from my face with her thumb and then stuck that thumb in her mouth to slowly slurp the white goo off, grinning like an imp, a demon, as she did so, and giving me a minor heart attack in the process.
That was the night I finally let myself go over the edge; after she had gone home and I was laying there in my room, alone in the dark, slowly stroking, I deliberately chose to invite Rose into my private fantasies. Please don't mistake this action. There was nothing raunchy or unredeemably sexual in those thoughts, although not from lack of trying on the part of my libido. Every time the little head tried to make me picture a penetration, the big head forced it back to something suitably R-rated. A visualization of her jumping into the pool only to lose her bikini in the water and have to exit the pool naked, while I waited with a towel to dry her off. A scene of her in my room, standing over my cot, posing innocently in the nude and asking which feature I thought was her best. That night was the first time I consciously chose to visualize her, to acknowledge to myself that the feelings I had were not only romantic, but sensual, sexual, physical. I tried to avoid thinking about her any more after that night, but it was too late. I had opened the bottle, and the genie wouldn't go back in. Rose came to occupy the center of my fantasies, although we never progressed in my head even as far as heavy petting, only a tender kiss here and there. Lancelot complex even in my flippin' private fantasies, for crying out loud, lust for the lady but respect her, never touch her, until she makes a move, until she comes to you begging for it...
It wasn't too long after, that I bought Rose a bike. It was a display model at Toy Barn, a little beat up from the constant parade of kids who had tried it out, but they let me have it for 25 bucks. Rose didn't mind the wear and tear, she was thrilled just to have it. She had lost her last bike (that she was too big for anyway) two or three moves ago, and the restoration of wheels meant we could ride places together. I instructed her to lie to her mother and tell her I had found the bike abandoned in a storage shed; I was worried Marjorie might object to my having bought it for Rose without the convenient excuse of a birthday or holiday as justification. It worked out beautifully. We rode together everywhere that spring, but our favorite places to go were Dannan Park (where we rode the swings and watched little kids playing in the sandbox), the overlook on Griffin Ridge that commanded a view of the tree-choked valley floor next to the river, and the Goodwill shop on Maynard Avenue where we spent happy hours rooting around for treasure in other people's castoffs. Idyllic.
Believe it or not, I had never ridden "look Ma no hands" before. With Rose's encouragement, I gradually came to an understanding of gravity and balance that allowed me to match her in riding with my hands at my sides, steering with careful shifts of my weight. We had contests to see who could go the longest without grabbing the handlebars, and I actually won three or four times (although I think Rose let me win half of those because she felt sorry for me). Whenever we raced to the Petro4Less in the Sangreal Plaza, she always won, but when the race was to the Audi dealership at the top of Parkway Lane, I always won; I think it was because I was able to put more power into that last steep uphill part after we got through the intersection. Not that it ever really mattered, I don't think either of us really gave a damn who won, the actual pleasure was in just being together.
The last time we used the truck that summer, an oppressively muggy night near the middle of August, was when we went to the drive-in just off of County 616. That outing was a long night's journey into Hell. I had thrown a bunch of blankets in the bed of the pickup, and when we got there I backed into our stall, then we sat down together in the bed with our backs against a couch cushion I had propped against the cab, to watch all three Matrix films shown as a triple-feature; a jumbo-sized bag of popcorn between us and a six-pack of birch beer on the wheel well. I still hadn't quite gotten over the shock of Marjorie saying yes to this little outing, after Rose asked a mere three times.Once again, Marjorie assured me (over a six-pack of Molson's) that her trust in me was absolute, and she knew Rose would be safe with me. Gratitude or guilt. Probably a fiercely unhealthy mix of both. Rose was beside herself with joy at the prospect of staying up past 3 a.m. on a Friday night. At a drive-in, for God's sake. I had seen the first film in its original run and worried a little over the intense level of violence, but thought the climactic scene, with the full-blown Snow White ending where the hero is brought back to life by True Love's Kiss, was appropriately gooey enough that Rose and I could both enjoy it on the same level without too much danger. I hadn't seen the second or third films before, hadn't even read reviews. Thrice-Damned Idiot. The second film sent me on a roller coaster ride through the flames of damnation, a savage spectacle plunging me into the abyss and searing me many times over before emergence on the far side. I was pinned in place, skewered, when barely half an hour into that film, there was a fully nude sex scene, complete with climax. Actually, one sex scene intercut with several explicitly suggestive near-sex scenes, underscored by an unrelenting, driving, raw, percussive bass line that left nothing to the imagination, a throbbing, insistent, primal urge with no escape possible save the one you knew and wanted so badly you could taste the blood at the back of your throat. I had seen much raunchier, many times before, this one didn't even show genitals; but watching it with Rose beside me was a rocketsled ride through the fiery pit. Onscreen, Trinity clutched Neo to her as if they were on a journey through a galaxy of their own, and only by holding onto him with all her strength could she be assured of safe passage; and when Neo climaxed, I shivered in sympathy and knew I was lost. It wasn't just sexual, it was sensual; not sex, but lovemaking. As I watched from the corner of my eye for her reaction, I found my breathing labored and tense, and the heat rising in my pants was a foreign presence that could not be shut down. She never even looked over at me, just kept staring at the screen, and I tore myself up trying to decide whether that was good or bad, trying to get some clue from her reaction. Was she breathing hard? I couldn't tell, my own breathing drowned everything out. Gradually, I became aware that, just beyond the edge of the truck, past Rose, I could see into the back seat of the rocking car parked next to us. Turned my head hellishly slow, knowing what I would see on the other side. And I did; not immediately beside us, one space over, but suggestively recognizable through the back windows, a coupling. Bosch himself couldn't have painted me into a worse Hell. Still Rose stared straight ahead, and the need to know overwhelmed everything as I watched her chest intently to see that, yes, she was breathing deeper and harder than normal. After the scene was over, the only thing that seemed to change between us was when Rose nudged off her sandals and put the bottoms of her feet against my bared calf, leaving them there for most of the rest of the second film. Thankfully, the third film was a return to old-school violent mayhem, and even provided a tearjerker ending as a cherry on top. For weeks afterward, those films were a significant spur to our conversations. Although we never discussed the sex scenes, there were moments, maddening, tantalizing, hint-from-the-heart-of-Hell moments, when she started to say something, then drew up short and changed it to something else. Did she know what she was doing? Did she know the effect she was having on me? It was like having a burning curtain between us. I knew the curtain was on fire, and I was certain she was aware of it too. Neither of us acknowledged it verbally, but too many sideways looks that seemed to linger just a little too long were darts of fire that pierced my spine.
Did she know I was having to hug my pillow to my chest at night, just to have something to touch, to pretend it was her I held? I couldn't tell what was worse, the slow burn of loneliness I had known before I knew Rose, the loneliness that tore me down day after day after endless day, or the rapid burn that was torching my heart now, burning it to a blazing cinder every night, only to be revived the next day by her first "Hello."
"15 ...you don't really want to know just how far it's gone, just leave well enough alone..." - Dirty Laundry (Don Henley)
The grass in the complex seemed especially fertile that summer, pushing up out of the earth at what felt like a ridiculous rate. I was mowing some part of the grounds almost every other day, pausing once in a while as Rose brought me ice water or lemonade. Part of the time I saw her watching me mow, keeping her eye on my shirtless circuit of the grounds, but there were long chunks of time when she was off by herself. It didn't take me long to learn she had been going to my room to listen to my music. On an especially humid evening a couple of weeks before school started, she showed me what she had been doing all that time she was alone with my tapes; she had been organizing them for me, cleaning up and matching cassettes to cases, re-labeling the dubbed ones and cataloging everything. She had created a mix tape, and she used both the tape and a tennis racket to put on an air guitar show. I sat on the common room couch and watched her prance and caress the "guitar" through a set that consisted of the Stones' "Gimme Shelter" (crackling with tension), Cheap Trick's Budokan version of "I Want You To Want Me" (necessarily calling to mind thousands of preteen Japanese girls who were all dying (dying, dying, dying) to rush the stage in a wave), Jerry Lee Lewis doing "Great Balls of Fire" (for which song she temporarily put down the "guitar" and pulled up a chair to use the coffee table as an air piano; at the point in the song where Jerry Lee jumps up and knocks his piano bench flying, Rose jumped up and kicked the chair back with such violence that it made me jump in my seat), and Don Henley's "Dirty Laundry." My God. Her performance of "Dirty Laundry" was the single most erotic thing I have ever seen. In my entire life. I mean that quite literally, I have never seen any performance, by any other person, before or since, that was more charged with sexual energy. When the song reached the first guitar solo, I actually stopped breathing for a moment at the wonder of it all. As the solo started, Rose was swinging her hips from side to side with the "guitar" slung low between her legs, her fingers moving in an amazing show of dexterity that I could almost believe would produce the sounds I was hearing if she actually had a guitar in her hands. Then she shifted to pumping her hips front to back, still stroking the neck, making love to the damn thing. I couldn't believe what I was seeing and suspected I was hallucinating it; she was openly humping the body of the "guitar," and her fingers seemed to have given up on imitating fret positions, choosing instead to stroke the neck as if she were gripping a phallus. As the solo rolled on, she did a strange little mincing dance step from right to left, then whirled and moved back from left to right in a duckwalk that was a perfect imitation of Chuck Berry; it was touching and hilarious and savagely sexy all at once, and it was all being done for me, a private audience of one. As the solo rolled to a close, she ran forward and dropped down, sliding the last few inches on her knees and holding the "guitar" upright between her legs as if it were something she were worshipping. That performance is acidly etched in my head, and I can recall any moment of it any time I want to simply by closing my eyes; and of course, whenever that song comes on the radio now, I have to turn away, lest I get too distracted to continue whatever it is I'm doing. When the set was over, sweat was pouring from every part of her body, and she came over to collapse on the couch.
"My God," I murmured, "that was unbelievable! You look like you're dying, let me get you a drink." As she took the cold root beer from my hand, deliberately touching my fingers to do so, she looked up at me without moving her head.
"Yeah, I've never done four songs in a row before," she grinned, "guess I need to build up a little more stamina." I plopped down next to her, wiping her face with a towel I'd brought over, and fanning her with it. "I'm so hot and sweaty," she panted, "you must think I look like some gross pig." No, I answered, your steaming hot sweaty body makes me think of things, but pigs aren't one of them. Then aloud, I said, "It's summer, you goof, you're supposed to be hot and sweaty. Trust me, you're beautiful."
"So you liked it?" Her grin told me she knew she didn't need to ask.
"Yeah, but Rose, I'm a little worried about contamination. I mean, I don't want to take you away from the kind of music kids your age listen to. I don't want you to grow up older than you should be." She sat forward at that and put her hands on her hips.
"Wait a minute. When these songs first came out, kids my age listened to them then, didn't they?" she demanded. I had to nod my head. "Well, this music was okay for kids then, so it must be okay now, right?" As I started to protest, she held up a hand. "Besides, it goes both ways. You listen to my music, right?" Again, all I could do was nod my head. "Well then, trust me. 'They say that a hero can save us, I'm not gonna stand here and wait'..." she sang with a gentle drawing out motion of her hands as encouragement to me, and I picked it up, "I'll hold on to the wings of the eagles," and then we finished together, "Watch as we all fly away."She reached over and grabbed hold of my shirt sleeve, and for a vertiginous few seconds, I was forcibly reminded of the first time Lilly had grabbed my shirt; and then she was climbing onto my lap, straddling my leg and leaning right down into my face in her earnestness. "And get this," she insisted, laying a hand on my chest, "even though you hate a lot of Disney's recent slop, we both liked 'The Goofy Movie', right? Right. And I know we both liked that Powerline song ('Tevin Campbell' I corrected silently), I-2-I, for the same reason. C'mon, you know what it is, say it." Rolling my eyes theatrically, I muttered something about the bass line. "That's it!" she beamed, "that fat, phat bass line." With a slowly dawning sense of recognition, I realized that I had heard it that time; the difference between fat and phat. My slowly spreading foolish grin told her she had won this round.
16 ...strange what desire will make foolish people do... Wicked Game (Chris Isaak)
A year had come and gone, more than a year, really, more like 14 months. Rose was in sixth grade. Apart from the impending transition to junior high, she didn't find it to be much different than fifth grade, except perhaps a little... not really lonelier, she said, scrunching up her face (adorably) and trying to think of a better way to put it, finally settling for 'more isolated', because Brittany and her posse were gone. She said she didn't miss them, but the wistful way she said it made me think that wasn't quite entirely accurate.
We were in my room at the time, with the door ajar. I was trying to avoid any appearance of impropriety, and trying to keep myself honest with myself. The door to my room was at the end of the hallway, about three feet past the entrances to the locker rooms, and I knew if anyone were to overshoot those by even a couple of steps, they would see right into my room.
Rose was perched on the cot, her shorts displaying her gorgeous legs from the top of the thigh down, and her blouse carelessly open at the top button, so that every time she leaned forward, I was able to see the faintest shadow of the cleavage that would soon be there in earnest. I was sitting cross-legged on the floor, leaning back on my hands, waiting for the guts to ask my next question. I think I might have been more nervous than I ever had before in my life, when I finally screwed up the courage to come out and say it. "What about boys? Are there any that look interesting to you?" The responsible adult in me, the part that owned my conscience and guilt and repression, the part that obeyed the law and saw to it that I did the right thing by those less able to look out for themselves, was anxiously hoping to hear that she had discovered some stupid bohunk that took her breath away. The starry-eyed adolescent in me, the part that owned my sense of romance and love, my heart and soul and, yes, my aching manhood, cringed at the thought that I might hear the answer the adult was demanding. The two halves were waging a savage battle inside, kicking and gouging in the mud and the blood and the tears, fighting so hard that my ears were buzzing and my lungs were unable to completely fill. Rose, knowing nothing of this death struggle, thought I was teasing her, and she was just a shade put out as she told me that she had no more prospect or interest in snagging a boyfriend now than she had when they first arrived. Then, as the resentment gave way to her usual impish good humor, she slipped down to the floor and wrapped her arm around mine and hugged it tight to her as she grinned, "Anyway, Jack, you know you're the only man for me!" Holy God. My mixed emotions at this display were as divided as oil and water, and the play of of those emotions on my face didn't escape Rose's notice, because she asked if I was feeling all right. "I'm fine," I managed to choke out, "I'm just a little tired, I guess." Or a lot tired, of fighting with myself and playing with myself and, and, and... Goddamnit. "Well, that won't do," she chuckled, "you'd better lay down and rest for a bit." And she pushed on my chest until I gave in and laid back on the floor, turning to face her as she lay down next to me, her head propped up on her hand. She grew just a little more solemn as she reached over to brush the hair out of my eyes, and she said, "You know how much you mean to me, don't you, Jack? You're the best friend I could ever hope for. You look out for me and you take care of me and you make me laugh and, and... oh, Jack, I, I, I just, I just love you. You know that, don't you?" She was blushing, but only slightly, and I must have been blushing myself as I reached over to stroke the side of her face. "Yes, I know," I said, and taking a huge mental breath, pushed myself to say, "and I love you, too, Rose, with all my heart. You know that, don't you?" She flashed her usual pixie grin and and said, "What's not to love?" I had to laugh out loud at that, "You minx!"
I don't think I'll ever know which one of us moved then, or whether we both moved at the same time. All I know for sure is that the next thing I knew, we were wrapped up in each other's arms, holding each other tight, her face nestled into my neck, her gentle breath tickling my skin, her aroma filling my nose. I must have been acting on sheer instinct when I gently kissed the top of her head, my hand caressing and rubbing her back. The feel of her soft lips on my neck sent a delicious shiver down my spine, a lovely sensation that I never wanted to end; not quite a kiss, but damn near. I don't know how long we lay locked together like that; it might have been ten seconds, or a lifetime; before I became aware of my erection surging, bulging in my pants, pressing into her thigh with an insistence I couldn't deny. We lay together like that for five or more minutes, the worry over what she would think of the erection being overwhelmed by the sheer joy of holding her close, feeling the mop of her hair filling my face. I knew this could only end in one of two ways, and I had to make it be the right way, for both of us. Pulling away from her was like pulling the flesh off my body, an agony that I forced myself to endure because to do anything else would have been a violation of her youth and her understanding of our friendship.
We chatted for probably twenty more minutes after that, and after a glance at the clock, I told her I needed to get started on shutting the pool down for the night. She nodded, her usual happy headbob letting me know everything was okay between us as she bounced out the door for home.
It was perhaps two or three weeks later when it happened. The night. The night that changed everything. The night that finally, firmly, irrevocably started us down this path. That night had been particularly slow. Rose had gone home at 7:00 to dinner and homework (an English paper that she was looking forward to writing on the computer, a review of Lewis Carroll's two Alice books), the last swimmer had left the pool at 9:30, and as the clock slowly crawled around to 10:00, I decided nobody else would be coming that night, so I went to the men's locker room to take a shower and get ready for bed. I took out my contact lenses and stashed them in the locker I had reserved for myself, the one closest to the shower. The entrance to the men's shower area, on the far side of the locker room from the entrance just outside my room, wasn't actually a doorway, really more of a large opening, probably ten feet wide. The shower area itself was a large open tiled room with eight shower heads around the walls, half of which could be seen from any angle in the men's locker room. I went to my favorite showerhead, the one with the softest spray, twisted the knobs, and waited for a few seconds until the water was nice and warm, then cranked it up as hot as I could stand it. As I stood there in the spray from the showerhead, I was thinking, as usual, about Rose. Once again, I forced myself to remember I shouldn't be thinking like that, and I tried to think about Marjorie instead, but it didn't work; Marjorie just evaporated as soon as I tried, and I was left with Rose by default. I had a full erection by now as I washed my body, and I slowly started to play with myself, picturing Rose in my mind and stroking and fondling myself with my right hand. In one of my dreams from the night before, we had been in the wave pool at some waterpark, the waves knocking us back, forcing her into me, and she had been laughing as she turned to face me and allowed the waves to force her deep between my legs, our crotches pressed tightly together. That was where the dream ended, and as hot water pounded down on my head, I chose to revisit that scene as a daydream to see where it took me. Not surprisingly, my erection (in the vision) emerged from my swimsuit, and as it ground into the panty of Rose's bikini, she looked a little shocked at first, then smiled her biggest, warmest smile and wrapped her arms around me, pressing up against me and straddling my leg, trapping my hardness between our thighs and grinding her little pussy up against it. I was breathing a little harder now, slightly shocked at my audacity in letting my imagination go this far, and quite unwilling to stop it. As the vision continued, I noticed that even though the wave pool was crowded, everyone else was too involved in their own struggles to stay afloat to pay any attention to us. I slipped my thumb under the material of her panty and pulled it aside. Her reaction was one of open-mouthed wonder, and then she bit her lip and after nodding vigorously to tell me to keep going, hugged herself close to me, her chin resting on my shoulder, her chest pressed up tight to mine. In one smooth motion, I slid my cock deep into her, all the way to the base, and her cry was one of wonder and surprise, with no pain whatsoever.It was as if her hymen had already been broken. We continued to bob along together, letting the ebb and flow of the waves gently push us together every time we started to slide apart. In the shower, I soaped up my hand again, then used the feeling of stroking my cock with my soap-slimed hand as a stand-in for Rose's little love tunnel wrapped around me. I squeezed harder and harder, massaging the head with my fingertips, and the familiar tingle started to make itself known. In the daydream, Rose had wrapped her legs around my waist, hugging me tight between her thighs and forcing herself onto me, to make sure I stayed buried deep inside her. I could tell it wouldn't be long now before I was shooting my load.
As I turned around to feel the water on my back, I thought I saw a blur of color by the outer door of the men's locker room. I squinted, trying to make it out; without my contacts or glasses, it was a struggle. My first thought was that it was a towel that some tenant had left hanging on the hook by the door, but something about that explanation didn't seem quite right. Still, I gripped my hardness, slowly stroking, and as I squinted toward the door, I thought I saw the blur move a little. I stepped out of the shower's spray and reached into the locker to get my glasses, but by the time I had them on and looked back at the door, there was nothing there. "Hello," I called uncertainly, holding a towel around my waist and sneaking over to the door to look out, "is someone there?" The hallway was empty, but I was sure for a fleeting instant I'd seen something or someone there, and I was scared that I had been caught jacking off. Nothing ever seemed to come from it, though, and I let it slip out of my mind.
When Rose seemed to pull away from me a little over the next few days, it literally never occurred to me to wonder if she had been the blur. After all, it was the men's locker room, and I knew she wouldn't have come in there. As things seemed to cool down between us, I attributed it to nothing in particular. Maybe she was upset about something; if so, surely she would tell me sooner or later. We were pals, after all.
As the days dragged into weeks and then into months, Rose drifted further from me. Several times I found her hanging around near my room, as if she wanted to come in and talk to me, but she always made some excuse and was on her way. She still came over for help with homework, and we still chatted about school and other little things, but it seemed that she was putting distance between us, as if she just wasn't as interested in hanging out with me as before. Our movie nights grew fewer and fewer, until finally we stopped watching movies altogether. She had begun to talk more and more about girls she knew in school, and how she anticipated hooking up with Brittany and her posse next year in junior high. It seemed like she was finally starting to find a niche in what I perceived as her peer group, and their interests seemed to be taking a more central role to her than ours had been. With a slowly dawning horror, I realized I was watching a replay of my life with Lilly. It hurt so much more than I wanted to admit, that I had let myself get so close to her that her absence caused me such horrible, real pain. It was actually physical, the pain in my chest, the hollow ache in my heart, and I would have pulled it out to escape the torment if I could have. I tried to rationalize it away with the thought that she was growing up, and probably starting to outgrow our friendship, but that actually made it worse. The thought that I needed her more and more just as she seemed to be needing me less and less, ripped through me like a werewolf on meth, like the hammer of Hell just kept smashing into my gut.
I let her 12th birthday slip by with only a card pushed under the door of her apartment. I had scrawled the words "Love, Jack" inside the card, and almost scratched out the word "Love," because I was so miserable over the loss, before realizing how awful that would look. I actually cried myself to sleep that night, feeling in full measure the horrible parallels that had claimed us; just as she had become another Lilly to me, I had become another Stan to her; distant and drifting further away all the time. I cursed myself for a damned fool as I sank into the freezing depths.
Four months went by in this grotesque fashion. I still saw her several times a week, and she still smiled and joked with me, but the distance was palpable, the parting of the ways all too real. She stopped by my room about once a week now, and while we were still able to make comfortable small talk, I could see an edge there, a rawness that she couldn't conceal, and I supposed it was politeness on her part that was making her give me as much time as she did. Most of the time we were together, she kept her head down, as if it were difficult to look at me. I felt I should say something to release her, but I couldn't think of any graceful way to do it, and short and strained though it was, I would have missed even the bittersweet time with her. Toward the end, I resigned myself to just continue life the best I could. The truth was (I reasoned with myself), I had gotten way too comfortable. I had stopped looking for a "real" job long before, content to just hang out in the clubhouse and vegetate. As if this were a light bulb suddenly turning on over my head, I knew then that I should treat Rose's cold shoulder as a wake-up. This was a clarion call from the universe. It was time to pick myself up and get on with my life, get a real job and get on with the business of wishing I were dead.
It was late afternoon of a frosty February Friday when I had this revelation, and I spent the rest of the night trying to make myself feel I deserved to be congratulated on having escaped my doomed friendship with Rose. The night was almost over, it must have been past 11:00 pm, when Rose appeared at my door, asking to talk. I stood back to let her in and she came in and closed and locked the door behind her. That locked door definitely got my attention; I knew something big was up. We sat together on the floor of my room like we always had in the past. She had something she wanted to say, so I just kept silent and waited for her to start.
"Jack," she finally said after a very, very long pause, and I knew she was scared to death and looking for the courage to say something horribly difficult to me. My heart plummeted into my stomach as I tried to think of what would cause her such pain. "Jac...," she began again, and the word caught in her throat, so that she had to clear it and start over, "Jack", and then with halts and pauses and a blush that colored her whole head right down to her neck, she managed to choke out the words that were devouring her.
"Jack," she said, head down, voice so small I could barely hear her in the quiet of the night, "I, uh, I, uh, I saw you. In the shower. That night. That one night. That one night you were, uh, you, uh, you were rubbing. Uh, rubbing, uh, your, uh, rubbing your, uh...," and her voice became so soft that I had to read her downturned lips to know what she said, "your penis." I was beyond shock. I could feel the blood leaving my face as my heart raced to pump it all into my intestines, where it gurgled and squeezed and tied me up in knots. I felt like I had been caught raping puppies in front of a kindergarten class. It was an unbearable sensation, far beyond wanting to be dead; more like wanting to be erased from the universe, never to have existed in the first place.
Rose was still talking, and it took a supreme effort of will to keep listening. She had been looking for me that night, she said, because she wanted my opinion on her first draft of the Alice paper. When she couldn't find me anywhere, she took a chance on a peek inside the men's locker room, where she had seen me masturbating. The sight had caught her, fascinated her, and even as she tried to turn and walk away (she told me), something had held her in place, keeping her eyes locked on the spectacle of me sliding my hand up and down the shaft of my manhood, on the rigid flesh, on the sight of the head of my penis disappearing into my fist and re-emerging as I stroked. Ever since that night, she said, she hadn't been able to get the image out of her head. She lay awake in her bed every night, replaying the scene in her mind over and over in slow motion, trying to recapture every last second of the experience, trying to zoom in on the sight of my penis, lathered and wet, gripped firmly in my hand. When she realized how much energy she was devoting to it, she became worried that I would find out, scared of what my opinion would be, afraid I would think she was a nasty, dirty little monster, a perverted freak. She had distanced herself from me, she said, because she didn't want me to realize that all she could think about was my penis. She didn't trust herself around me, was afraid that when she was with me, I would see her staring at my crotch, trying to visualize what lay beneath the fly of my pants. Even so, she spent all her time trying to come up with a way to repeat the experience, to see me naked again, to get another look at my penis. She knew she couldn't risk another shower peek, because I might catch her and put a stop to it all.
Then she dropped the real bombshell. She confessed to having snuck into my room to poke around sometimes when I was out running errands or taking care of stuff around the complex, spying to see what else she could learn about my penis without having to go to the embarrassment of asking me.She admitted that on those occasions when I was out, she often rifled through the drawers of my dresser, stripping and putting on a pair of my underwear to pretend she was me, trying to imagine me laying there with my penis hanging out. It was on those occasions, when she was reaching through the fly of my underwear to see what it was like to feel for a penis, that she rediscovered a pleasure she had left behind many years ago. When she was very little, she whispered, maybe three or four years old, she used to lay on her bed and rub her "coochie" because it felt so good. She didn't remember when she stopped doing it, but now, years later, as she had lain on my cot and reached through the fly of my underwear that she was wearing, she suddenly rediscovered how good it felt to touch herself down there, and she had been playing more and more, until she was at the point where she was diddling on a daily basis. Her newly reinstituted "coochie rubbing" sessions made her feel good, really good, and she couldn't imagine why she had ever stopped.
Then she told me that during her underwear sneak sessions, she had found my pornography. She proved it by retrieving the book from under the false bottom of the dresser drawer, and I almost vomited when she did. She said at first she was confused, dazed, to think I would be looking at porn; then later she was eaten alive by it, driven nearly insane with the idea, because she didn't understand it; or rather, she thought maybe she did, but was desperate to ask about it, talk about it, get more information, but she didn't know where to turn or who to ask. The more she thought about it, the worse it got. Men and women, naked and touching, and she began to see it everywhere she went; looking at couples walking around school, holding hands or canoodling, and like a waking dream, she couldn't help but visualize them naked and doing it. She sneaked back in to my room on many other occasions to look at the magazine in my drawer; she had looked at and touched the penises in the photos many times over, but that only increased her desire to see the real thing in the flesh again, and more specifically, to see MY penis. That was what finally stoked her curiosity to the point where she couldn't contain it anymore.
"The more I looked at your magazine, the more I got this weird feeling in my stomach, and when I rubbed myself down there while I was looking at it, the weirder I felt. I can't describe it, because I've never had that feeling before," she whispered, her voice still so soft that I had to strain to make out the words. "I mean, rubbing my... my vagina... felt really good when I was just doing it, like when I was little, but when I did it while I was looking at the magazine, I felt... really strange, really weird, like hot and cold at the same time, like a tickle that I couldn't reach, and then it felt, like, really, really good and like I couldn't catch my breath. And then I got so wet, so wet and sticky down there, and at first I was scared, I thought something was wrong with me, but I didn't get sick and I didn't feel bad, I just felt good, so good, and I wanted to keep making myself wet down there because it felt sooo good. And I knew you would know what it was, 'cause you had the magazine, and you knew about rubbing your... your penis... and I knew you were doing it to make yourself feel good, like the way it felt good when I rubbed my... my vagina... but I was too ashamed to ask you; ashamed to admit I snuck into your room, and ashamed to admit how much I enjoyed that feeling when I was looking at something I knew was dirty and nasty, and confused because you're so good and decent, you're a really really good man, but you had this filthy dirty awful magazine, and I was really really ashamed to admit I felt so good while I looked at those pictures when I rubbed my... myself. Down there. And now I'm so confused all the time, 'cuz I know about something that makes me feel really really good, and I know I shouldn't do it, 'cuz it's bad or evil or something, but I don't know why. And the whole time, I keep thinking about... it... about... penises. About...your... your... penis... Jack, your penis. I have to know. I have to see it again. Please? Please? I'm begging you, Jack, I can't even eat or sleep anymore, I feel like I'm going insane. Please just let me see your... your penis... one more time. I wouldn't ask if we weren't friends. I couldn't, if it was anybody else, I'd die of embarrassment. I'm almost there, anyway, and it's taken me months to work up the courage to do this. Please, Jack? Please? I won't even ask to touch it, I just need to see it, just need to know that what I saw was real, was a real... live... thing... on your body..."
Too many thoughts went through my mind, too many voices screaming to be heard. For long minutes, I felt my mouth struggling soundlessly to form first one sentence, then another. Finally, I managed to tell her, "Rose, I can't. If I did, I would get in real trouble. I could go to jail. I'm flattered beyond words that you want to see it, but I just can't do it."
"Please, Jack, please. I'm pleading with you, Jack. Look," and she shifted to her knees in front of me and clasped her hands together, "I'm on my knees begging you for this. Look, Jack... begging. Pleading. I trust you, I know you would never hurt me. We're friends, we're more than friends, we're best friends. You're my best friend in the whole world, Jack, please please please don't shut me out. I love you, you know I do, and you love me, you said you did, said you love me. We love each other the way friends are supposed to love each other. Friends don't hurt each other, they can't. See, I'm hurting now, Jack, hurting just to see it again. Don't hurt me, Jack, please, stop the pain, just let me see it again. Just once. Pleeease? I've already seen it once, it didn't hurt me then, how can it hurt for you to just show me one more time? Pleeease, Jack, just this one time, pleeease?"
We just sat there for I don't know how long; seconds that felt like hours. The look on her face was one of supplication that I'd never seen before. She really was suffering. I knew that if I gave in, I would be changing both of our lives forever, and probably for the worse; much worse. I had that on the one hand, and on the other hand was my love for her, and the friendship we had already shared, and the fact that she really wouldn't be asking me if she didn't think she could trust me. In the end, it was the friendship that won out; the friendship and my lovesick heart that was suddenly screaming for her in a way I thought I had learned to live with, but now realized I hadn't. I carefully checked the pool area and then scoured the entire clubhouse; we were alone, really, absolutely alone. We went back into my room, where I shut and locked the door. I made her sit on the cot, and I stood in front of her.
"Rose, you have to understand, this is very very bad. If anybody ever finds out I did this, I could go to prison for real. I could get locked up for a real long time, and raped every day by guys twice as big as me, and you'd probably never see me again. You can never tell anybody about this, do you understand? You have to swear it, this has to be a secret just between us, forever and ever." Her eyes were as big as saucers; she didn't say anything, just nodded vigorously, her ponytail bobbing up and down, and I knew she didn't think she could trust herself to talk at that moment. I undid my pants, which fell to the ground around my bare feet. I kicked the pants over by the cot and stood there in front of her in my shirt and underwear, trying to screw up the courage to take that last step. I deliberately blanked my mind as much as possible, then slid my briefs off in one smooth motion. My penis had already begun to stiffen and throb, and it suddenly swelled up and bobbed in front of her, fully erect. I could tell Rose had stopped breathing, and her expression was one of pure wonder; it seemed like the light of Heaven was shining in her face as her eyes locked onto my erection and drank it in. I just stood there like that, not daring to move or do anything to break the moment. Finally, she spoke.
"Why is it bigger, why did it go up like that, like in the magazine, like when I saw you in the shower?" she asked in a tiny, strangled voice. "Isn't it supposed to hang down?"
"Yes," I whispered, "it does hang down most of the time. But when I'm excited, when I'm... aroused, sexually aroused... it gets stiff like this. I get an erection. It's a natural reaction when I'm... excited."
"Why...why..." she said slowly, as she tried to grasp the implication of what I was telling her, "why are you... excited? Is it because of me? Are you excited because I'm looking at it?"
"Yes," I admitted, "you're the cause. Being naked in front of you makes it get hard." And as I said that, Rose started blushing furiously. From some well of strength that even she didn't know she had, she dredged up the nerve to ask the next question.
"Jack," she asked in that same tiny voice, and swallowed hard, "do... do... do you want to see me naked? I mean, do you want to be naked with me, like... like in the magazine?" When I didn't answer immediately, she continued, "Jack, I've been looking at myself naked in the mirror all the time lately, wondering what it would be like if it was you I was standing in front of instead of the mirror, wondering what you would think when you saw me, wondering if you'd look at me the way you look at those women in the magazine. Do you, Jack? Do you want to see me, see me... naked, I mean? Do you want to see what my naked body looks like?I knew I should lie to her, tell her no, I didn't want to see her naked, but this was a moment in our relationship that allowed for no falsehood, and I couldn't answer her, all I could do was stand there silently and pray she'd do the right thing for both of us. She didn't. Without a sound, Rose stood and unbuttoned her shirt to reveal her training bra, then she slipped the shirt off and dropped it on the cot. She slipped out of her jeans and kicked them over on top of my pants, and I could see her panties were covered with delicate little roses twining around each other. She reached up behind her back to unhook the bra, which she let fall away to the floor, then just stood there hyperventilating, her big eyes suddenly grown twice as big, amazed by her own daring and not quite able to believe she had gotten this far. Her perfect beautiful little breasts were round and soft and tender, begging to be touched, capped by delicate nipples that stood at attention. She slipped her hands inside her panties and started to slide them down, then stopped. She was struggling with it, and I could see how badly she was torn.
"Jack, I want you to see me, I want you to see my cooch... my... my vagina... but I can't make myself do it." I started to reassure her that everything was okay, she didn't need to worry about it, but she hushed me up. "No, Jack, I mean it, I want you to see me, but I can't do it. Will you do it for me? Please? Will you pull my panties off, please, I really really really want you to see all of me." I just nodded dumbly, then stepped over close to her and dropped to my knees in front of her. Her breasts were heaving right in front of my eyes; the nipples jutted out from her chest, begging to be touched, all I would have had to do was to lean over three inches to put my mouth on them. I was so close, I could smell her skin, her soap, her natural aroma. I reached over and gently slid her panties down to her ankles, then helped her step out of them; she put her hand on my shoulder to balance as she did so, and I swear to God I don't know how I avoided touching her further at that moment, don't know how I held myself back from grabbing her hips and burying my face in her stomach, how I even avoided so much as reaching up to touch her hand reassuringly. She let go of my shoulder then, and stepped back so I could take in her whole body as I knelt there in front of her. It was still a little much for her, and she nervously covered her vagina with one hand and tried to cover both breasts with the other.
"Is this what makes you excited, Jack? Does seeing my body make you want to do the things in the magazine, make you want to do those things with me?" And she nodded at the stroke book where she had dropped it on the floor. I tried to tell her there was more to it than that, that it was complicated in a lot of ways that I couldn't explain to her yet. But the more I tried to think of what to say, the more I realized she was right, and I had to give in to the inevitable. It was really just as simple as that; she was a female and I was a male, and my body wanted her in ways that I couldn't deny. In the end I gave in, and just shut my eyes and nodded with a profound sense of shame, of having violated our friendship. "It's that weird feeling, isn't it?" she said, her voice a husky shell, a breathless maze of wonder that intoxicated and frightened me. "It's sex, isn't it? It's sex and... and... and f... fu... fucking... fucking, isn't it? Men and women, fuc... fucking each other..." Again, all I could do was nod. And then she asked the question I knew had been coming, the question I had been dreading like the plague ever since we started down this path, the question I needed so desperately for her to ask, even as I knew that for her to ask it was to doom us both. "Do you want to... to touch me like that, Jack? Do you want to touch me and make me feel good and... and... and fuck me?" As she said this, her hand fell from her breasts, to join the other hand in covering her vagina, as if seeking to block access to what she had just offered.
I felt like I was going to die, and partially because so much blood had gorged my penis that it seemed like there wasn't a single drop to spare for the rest of my body. The moment of silence that passed between us as I struggled with my answer was more potent than anything that had come before. Finally, I managed to choke it out, my voice a harsh rasp of what it should have been. "Yes, Rose, yes, I want to touch your body more than I want anything else in this world," I whispered. "I want to make purple passionate love to you. I want to... to fuck you until we can't even breathe anymore. But Rose, my angel, my beloved, sweetest of sweet things that ever were in this world, you're my friend, you're my heart and my breath, my reason for living, and I can't ruin that." I was on the verge of tears, and I knew I had to make her understand. "Can. NOT. Ruin. That. If I touch you like that, I'm terrified it would wreck things between us, that I'd lose you as a friend, and that's a loss I can't handle. I can't lose you, Rose, I can't. You are my beloved, you are the most important thing I've ever had in my life, and if I lose you now, I Would. Go. Insane."
"Oh Jack, you ass, you silly stupid man, don't you see it? You can't lose me. Ever. Ever. I'm yours, forever and ever and ever. I'm asking you now, Jack," she whispered. "I've been thinking about this ever since I saw you in the shower, and even when I was confused, it was only because I didn't understand. But I do understand now Jack, I'm ready now, I'm really really ready. Please, Jack, we've gone this far already, please do it, please touch me like the people in the magazine touch each other. Love me, Jack. Love me. Fuc... fuc... fuck me, put your penis inside my vagina and love me and fuck me and make me yours."
I shook my head. "No, Rose, I can't do that, I CAN'T! Don't you see it, beloved? So far, all we've done is look at each other," I said, doing my best to shut out the memory of my hands against her legs as I had pulled her panties off. "I'll still be in horrible trouble for what we've done so far, but I might not go to jail for it, or only for a short time, anyway. If I touched you like those people in the magazine, and we got caught, I would go to prison for sure. I want to, Rose, oh God, you can't begin to know how badly I'm burning to touch you, but I can't."
"Just touch my vagina, that's all, just touch it, feel it. I'm getting that weird feeling again, big time, it almost hurts 'cuz it feels so weird, and now I'm so wet down there again, Jack, what's happening? What does that mean, that I feel so wet down there? Will you just touch it, please?" Rose reached over and took my hand in hers, then tried to put my hand on her vagina. I felt the brush of her tender fur under my fingers and pulled my hand away as if I had burned it.
"No, Rose, I can't do it. Please, sweetheart, I'm begging you, you have no idea how difficult this is for me. This is torture. My body wants your body in the worst way. It's been so long since I've been with a woman. This is killing me, but we can't do it."
"Well then, don't touch me, just look at my body," she said, "and I'll do the touching, so it'll be me that gets in trouble, not you." She reached out to unbutton my shirt and pull it off, and I couldn't stop her. As I sat naked before her, she laid her hand on my bare chest. I tried to push her away, I swear I did, but my arms were numb, they didn't respond, and I didn't have the strength to even move away. It felt so good to be touched by someone, by anyone; and then to have that someone be my best friend, my beautiful little Rose, just sapped all my energy. As she slid off the cot and snuggled up close to me, her hand slipped down to my stomach, then came to a stop just above my pubic hair. Knowing the line she was crossing, she bit her lip tightly, then moved her hand down into the curly nest around my penis, stroking and caressing the short hair, feeling it between her fingers and rubbing her palm over it. Shyly, timidly, she touched my erection and stroked it with her fingers. My member responded by throbbing dangerously, and I knew then that I had moved all the way into Hell, and I gave in. She looked up uncertainly at my groan of pleasure when her fingers wrapped around the shaft. Taking her by the shoulders, I pulled her close, reached down, and started kissing her on the neck and face. Her firm little breasts were crushed into my chest, and my hands were roving over her back and stroking her hair. She looked up into my eyes and released my penis, then took my face in her hands and pulled my lips onto hers. I kissed her deeply for a few seconds, then gently worked my tongue into her mouth, which seemed to make her go weak. With a shock, I realized it was because I had penetrated her with my tongue; her first penetration of any kind; and I had deflowered her of that particular virginity. I eased her back onto the carpet, my tongue still exploring her mouth. It took a minute, then she started to respond, pushing her tongue into my mouth and breathing hard. As we lay there on the rug, caressing each other around the waist and French-kissing, I started to stroke and play with her nipples. As I pinched and rolled the sweet little buds that were now hard as diamonds, she gasped into my mouth, again almost hyperventilating, pushing her breath into me with a force that startled me. My mind was a house on fire with people trapped inside, screaming murderously at me, 'Get out, get out, get out!'"My mind, my spirit, my heart, every part of me but one was shrieking at me to stop, but since that one remaining part was in the driver's seat of my body, I slipped my mouth down to her breasts and gently sucked and licked first one nipple, then the other. She just lay there, feeling the sensations washing over her body and not knowing what to make of it. She seemed to go limp in my grasp, and as she grabbed my hair and held on with all her might, I heard her panting, "oh my God, oh my God, oh my God, what are you doing to me, what are you doing, what is this, what is this?" For my part, it was like being with a goddess. She was my royal road to heaven, my goddess, and of one heartrending instant, I saw in myself a single mortal who wanted to worship her with my all. I kissed and licked my way down to her stomach, then to her thighs. She parted her legs to give me better access, and suddenly I was staring directly into the holy of holies, a temple whose entrance was veiled by the sweetest and silkiest of curtains, her baby soft pubic hair. I was completely out of control, watching someone else use my body to do these things. The lips between her legs were glistening, her soft downy fur was glowing, and I smelled a light, sweet odor that I had never smelled before, not even in my time with Lilly. My mouth was drawn to her valley by sheer animal instinct, nothing in creation could have made me pull back then. When my tongue first brushed the outside of her vagina, she gasped and stiffened. "Oh God, Jack, no, yes, no, yes, no, yes, oh, oh, oh," she babbled, clearly out of her mind with the overwhelming feeling. As I started gently sucking and lapping at her juice, her legs suddenly collapsed, draping over my shoulders as her heels landed on my back, then she slid her feet down until they were planted against the floor, and was pushing herself forward onto my mouth, trying to get as much of her pussy into my face as she could. I pushed my tongue deeply into her, and she gasped again. She grabbed hold of the top of my head and started to push down on it, urging me to lick deeper and harder. "Don't stop, don't stop, oh God, please keep doing that, oh God, oh God, please keep doing that, oh dear God, I can't believe it's possible to feel this good, how can this be happening, how can this be real?" When I had started eating her, I hadn't intended to bring her to orgasm; I hadn't planned that far ahead, I just wanted to get my mouth down there, wanted to suck up her love and savor the sweet sweet taste; but now I knew I had started something that I didn't dare stop. This was her first experience, that would color her view of sex for the rest of her life. I had to do it right, I couldn't let her down. I just kept licking and probing, riding her up and down with my tongue, lapping and slurping, to the sound of her moans of delight. "Oh God, yes yes yes yes yes yes yes, do it, do it, do it, do it, ooooohhhhhhhhh..." She made little explosions of breath every time my tongue brushed her clitoris, which spurred me on to a gentle but steadily increasing rhythm, flicking my tongue softly back and forth. I was totally unprepared for what happened next. As she went over the top, her back arched and she started shuddering violently. She jammed her fist in her mouth to keep from screaming, and I could see that she was in the throes of a full-body orgasm that seemed to rush over her entire frame. The effect this had on me was electric, and as I lay there on my stomach with my tongue in her vagina, my penis humping the carpet beneath me, I could feel myself explode, my juice shooting out and spurting up between the carpet and my stomach. Rose didn't know I had ejaculated, she didn't know anything except for the feeling of my tongue on her clitoris. I kept sucking and lapping, riding her bucking hips and never breaking contact. This was my little Rose's first time, and by God, it was going to be all the magic I could give her. As I kept sucking and licking, the orgasms just kept spilling over her, one after the other, until I think she had about five in all, each one making her body go rigid, the shocks spilling down her thighs, her vagina spasming and contracting, the juice literally shooting out of her and into my mouth. Finally, it was too much, I couldn't keep it up, and I eased back and started caressing and massaging the inside of her thighs, then stroking her face and hair while she caught her breath in ragged little gasps and gulps. Her legs were trembling, little bolts shooting up through her thighs and into her stomach. I inched my way up until we were face to face, and I stroked her neck and shoulders, telling her that I loved her and that I prayed to God I hadn't just ruined our friendship.
She just lay there, breathing, breathing, in and out, in and out, her eyes slightly unfocused as she gazed up at the ceiling, her chest rising and falling, listening to the sound of my voice as I softly murmured my love for her. Eventually, she took a huge breath, felt it fill her lungs in a way she never had before, and looked at me with amazement. "Jack, was that... was that... fucking?" she asked in a serious, adult voice I'd never heard her use before. "Is that what we just did, is that called fucking? Did I just fuck you?"
The wonder that swept through me must have shown on my face, because she grew even more solemn. "Where did you learn that word?" I wanted to know, to which she replied that she had probably heard it a long time ago, but last year she had heard kids at school using it (specifically Brittany's posse). She hadn't known what she was hearing at the time, but from the context, she assumed it was filthy. In the time since Brittany and friends had gone on to junior high, Rose had thought often about their stories of fucking their boyfriends and wondering what that meant, and if they were still fucking their boyfriends, or fucking somebody else by now.
"I need to know, Jack. Was that fucking?"
"No," I said, "what we just did is called cunnilingus. Most people call it eating pussy. That's what we did, Rose. I ate your pussy. Fucking is something else. When you were asking about it before, you were almost there, almost at the right definition. Fucking is when I put my stiff penis in your wet vagina and slide it in and out, or where you get on top of me and put your vagina on my penis and then just ride it." I picked up the magazine and turned to the center spread, a man laying on his back while his partner straddled him. The wonder in her eyes produced a trill in the pit of my stomach. "We talked about it before, when I told you that's where babies come from. When a man cums inside a woman, it's because of that. That's what fucking is. But there's something else you should know. That feeling you had just now, when you felt so out-of-your-head good that you couldn't stand it, is called orgasm, but it's also called cumming, and it happens to both men and women. When men orgasm, or cum, that's how the sperm shoots out, and if it shoots into your vagina, that's when you can get pregnant. You remember when I told you about that?" Rose, still wide-eyed, nodded, and I continued, "Men cum pretty easy from that, from having their penis in a vagina, but a lot of times, women don't. So it really isn't fair to the woman, because a man has to have an orgasm, he has to cum, to make a baby, but women can get pregnant without ever cumming, without having an orgasm. If you ask me (and nobody ever will), that's a mistake on God's part. If women had to cum, if they had to have an orgasm in order to get pregnant, that is, if men had to pay that kind of attention to women, if they had to make them cum, before they could have babies, this world would be a lot happier place."
"So, a woman doesn't always cum from fucking? Does a man always cum from fucking," she wanted to know, "or does it sometimes happen that he doesn't?"
"Well, some men don't, but that's the exception. If a man can't cum, can't orgasm from straight sex, that usually means something's wrong. Most men don't have a choice, if they do it all the way to completion, they always end up cumming, usually in the woman's pussy, and that's when she can get pregnant."
"Well, can't a man stop? Doesn't he know before he cums that he's going to cum, and can't he just stop before he does, stop before he makes her get pregnant?"
"It's a real problem, angel, because it feels so incredibly good that most men can't control themselves. You're right, though, a man always knows when he's about to cum, sometimes he knows a good 4 or 5 seconds before it actually happens. But once you get to that point, of knowing you're about to cum, it's too late to stop it, you're past the point of no return. A man can't stop the cum from shooting at that point, but some men do use that 4 or 5 seconds to pull out and shoot their cum outside of the vagina."
"Well then, what happens to it?" she wanted to know. "I mean, when the cum shoots out, where does it go?"
"Right where you'd think, sweetheart. When a man pulls out, his penis is usually pointing at the woman's stomach, and that's where it shoots. Sometimes up on her chest, sometimes even farther, and it's sticky, but at least it doesn't go inside the vagina. Now, if I put a condom on my penis first, the sperm shoots into the condom instead of your vagina, and then you don't have to worry about babies. Some people have sex only for that reason, to make babies, but most people do it because it feels so good, especially if it's someone you care about a lot. In fact, that makes it much, much better, because you're sharing it with a friend. That's why fucking is also called making love, because it's such an excellent way to show someone how much you love them.""I had to pause for a second to let her absorb the information, and also for myself, so I could take stock of the conversation, of what I was telling her. 'You know,' I continued after a pause, 'I shouldn't keep using that word. It's really kind of a harsh word, and it doesn't do justice to the act of making love. It's an adult word, "fucking," but in an immature kind of way. It feels so strange to use that word with you, but in a way, it also feels kind of right. It's like we've crossed over into a special place, and we need a special language to talk about it. See, that kind of sex, fucking, is the most heavy-duty thing men and women can do with each other, and it has to be special, it has to be right. You should never just fuck anybody, it should be somebody you love.'
'Well, that's okay then, isn't it?' she said. 'We're special, we're right, and I love you, you know I do, I feel it, I feel love! I feel love in my stomach and my chest and my legs and my arms and my head, and, and, and, oh God, I feel it in my... my pussy, I feel the love in my whole body. I love you, Jack, and I want to fuck you, I want to feel your penis in my pussy, fucking me. I want us to fuck each other, fuck each other like lovers, 'cuz that's what we are now, Jack, we're lovers, I want you to fuck me and then, then, so I don't have any baby yet, I want you to pull your penis out and I want you to shoot your cum all over my tummy, I want you to cum and cum and cum, I want to feel your cum shooting all over my tummy...'
I closed my eyes, realizing I had to try again. 'When you have intercourse for the first time, your first sex, your first... fuck, is one of the most important moments of your life.' I opened my eyes; her face was only inches from mine, her eyes huge, her breathing shallow and hard. She must have been putting out waves of pheromones, because I could feel my own breath coming faster and harder, and I was starting to lose the thread of my thoughts. Her eyes were darting manically from side to side as she tried to climb past my flesh and into my soul, and I knew I was in very real danger of losing myself to the moment, of utterly burying myself in her... I tried to continue, 'You have to know, you have to be sure it's someone who'll be important to you for the rest of your life. Your first time should be someone you'll love, not just now, but forever.' I could feel I was starting to lose ground; I realized her heart was already telling her that I was someone she could love forever, and even though I was burning with the need to let her express that love, I was pointing the loaded gun right back at myself. I shook my head and turned away; looking into those huge beautiful brown eyes was driving me mad, and I couldn't lecture her and look at her at the same time. 'Rose, I can't give you that sex. If I were to... to... to, fuck you, to, to put myself inside you like that, it wouldn't, it wouldn't be, uh... Rose, I can't... Look, Rose, you're 12, I'm 40, it would be wrong, you have to see that, angel. I just can't... fuck you. I do love you, sweetheart, you have to believe that, I love you with all of my heart and soul, I love you the way a man loves a woman, and I do want to, I want to make love to you and fuck you, I want it so savagely that it's making me sick inside trying to hold back, and I know you love me too, but you're so young, sweetheart, so very young, you're almost a baby, and I'm so old, sweetheart, I'm old enough to....' When I turned back to look at her, the confusion and fear in her face hit me like an icicle through the heart. Before I could say anything more, she had pulled on her panties and pants, faster than I would have believed possible, then she grabbed her bra and stuffed it in her pants pocket. I searched savagely for something to say, anything to heal the rift, to make it better, but of course I came up horribly empty. She was still putting on her shirt as she unlocked the door of my room and then she was gone. I leapt to the door, reaching out after her, but what could I say? What could I do? I could think of no words to bring her back, and I was too scared to run after her, scared of not knowing what to say once I caught up with her, scared that once I grabbed her and made her face me, she would have nothing but fear and pain to give me. The hopelessness and the inevitability of it hit me all at once. I was done. I was dead. I was now officially through with life. Closing the door, I cleaned up the jizz from the carpet and my stomach, put the stroke book back under the false drawer bottom (out of force of habit, I guess), put on my shorts and shirt, shut off the light, and curled up in a fetal position, in the dark, on the cot, to wait for the cops to come. I cried myself to sleep with my contact lenses still in, waiting.
18 ...it's a sad, sad situation, and it's getting more and more absurd... Sorry Seems To Be The Hardest Word (Elton John)
When I woke up the next morning with a sick feeling in my stomach and a gaping hole in my chest where my heart used to be, all I could do was wonder how long it would take before the cops finally did show up. There was probably all kinds of paperwork they'd have to fill out first, and the thought of my sweet little Rose, shivering and afraid as she sat across the desk from some big dumb cop as he looked her up and down and asked her humiliating questions, made my blood boil. Didn't those stupid cops have anything better to do than get their jollies by asking a twelve-year-old girl about her first sex? But as the day wore on and no cops came, I started to get worried, then even more heartsick. Where was she? What was she doing? What was she feeling? Was she somewhere alone and scared, crying harder than I had cried last night?
I was to suffer those questions for more than a week, during which time I didn't see Rose so much as once. I was afraid to go anyplace where I might see her by accident, so I kept as close to my room as possible. I was being devoured alive with regret and desire. I had to know how my little Rose was doing, but I didn't dare try to find out. Every day I vowed to end it all by going out into the complex and letting Rose find me and make whatever screaming scene she wanted to, letting the frightened residents call the cops to haul me away, letting Fortune have whatever kicks it felt like delivering, and every day the nauseous nervelessness and utter sense of loss peered out from the hole in my gut where they had taken up residence and refused to let me go out there. The few times I ventured from my room to take care of duties I couldn't avoid, I ran like a maddened thing, sliding around corners and trying to get from one place to another without being seen, my heart threatening to blast itself into a million guilt-stained shreds.
Self-torture became my constant companion. When I wasn't trying to picture Rose, my head filled with the nightmares yet to be endured when my dad found out. I hadn't seen him in over twenty years, not since I left home after school to strike out on my own, but I knew that this would draw him to me, would bring him to see me in jail, so he could lay his revulsion on me, blast me with the firehose of his righteous indignation while I cowered in the corner of my cell. I even went him one better with my furious self-incrimination, replaying the accusations endlessly in my aching head, until I was ready to rip out my own throat to make it stop. 'You sick MORON. You IDIOT. What were you THINKING? How could you RAPE a twelve-year-old GIRL? You're a PERVERT. You're a CHILD RAPIST. Did that feel GOOD, RAPING that little GIRL? Hope it feels that GOOD when they CUT your DICK off so you can't RAPE any more CHILDREN, you sick FUCK.'
One day that week (was it two days after The Encounter? Three days? Five days? the whole week was a nauseous blur), I saw Marjorie at Sav-Rite on 37th. In fact, she was in line ahead of me at the checkstand, as I waited with the fifteen bags of salt I needed to spread on the complex's sidewalks and she waited with a package of sausages, a box of tampons, and a fifth of Jack Daniels. I tried to exit the line, but I was trapped by the person behind me. As I tried to make an excuse and back up, Marjorie looked up and recognized me immediately. She moved in close to put the now familiar hand in the small of my back. I could smell a faint toxin of alcohol on her breath as she leaned in close to ask if Rose and I had had a fight. I don't know how I answered her; my brain shut down, so my mouth must have been on autopilot. Whatever I said, it must have satisfied her, because she backed off saying, "Well, I hope you make it up soon, she's been an absolute terror, ransacking through the apartment, tearing through my stuff like she was looking for something precious." She gave my arm a half-hearted squeeze and vanished into the night, leaving me standing there trying ferociously to remember why I was in a Sav-Rite checkout lane with a cart full of salt.
19 ...if I could reach the stars, pull one down for you, shine it on my heart, so you could see the truth... Change The World (Eric Clapton)
The night Rose came back to me was the single greatest joy of my entire life. It was after 10:00 pm on Sunday and I was sitting in my room in the dark with the door shut, trying to pretend I was anywhere else and anyone else, when I heard her familiar knock. I had thought I was ready for it, but the sudden prospect of opening the door to see her standing there next to my arrestors filled me with dread. I turned on the light and opened the door and there she was; alone, sans police; and radiant like I'd never seen her before. She was wearing lipstick, eyeliner and blush, and as she stepped into my room and whirled to face me, the scent of something sweet filled my head. She was wearing perfume!I was so knocked out that I felt my knees start to give, and I had to sit on the cot before I collapsed. She was wearing her newest jeans and the "Dark Side of the Moon" t-shirt (small enough on her now that her midriff was constantly exposed), and as she leaned over to wrap her hands around my neck, I could see glitter on her shoulders and chest; and I could look down the front of the shirt to see that she wasn't wearing a bra. The wave of scent that washed over me was a rush of relief that jumped up and slammed into my chest like a wrecking ball. She closed and locked the door, then turned back to me with a haunted expression. I could see in her eyes how badly she wanted me to be pleased with her looks and smell. She had done this for me! She had listened to my heart and heard it declare that what it ached for most in this world was a friend and a lover divine; the two most precious people in my life; and she had vowed to be both of those people.
Sinking to her knees before me, she took my hands in hers and squeezed so hard that it almost hurt, as if she were afraid to let go, as if she might never have another chance to hold onto me if she released me.
"Do you remember what you told me that night? Right after we did that? I mean, after we made love, after you, you, you... you ate... ate my pussy?" she asked. "You said you loved me, like the way a man loves a woman." I nodded. "Was it true, Jack? Did you mean it? Is it still true? Do you still love me? Or do you want me to go away? If you do, I'll understand Jack, I promise, I'll go, I'll go away and I won't ever bother you again for the rest of your life, but oh God, Jack, please please please before heaven and earth don't say no, I'm begging you please don't say no, don't send me away, Jack, please please please let me stay."
"Oh my God," I breathed, still reveling in the feeling of release from dread and exulting in the fact that our friendship was not dead, "Rose, my little Rose, you are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen! Nothing and nobody under heaven is as beautiful to me as you are, and more so at this moment that I ever would have dreamed possible! Yes, Rose, I do love you. I do. I love you." I took one of her hands and put it through my shirt, resting her palm on the left side of my chest. She felt the rapid rhythm of my heart against her fingers, and through the layers of blush make-up, I could see a genuine blush, a furious rush of blood, come to her cheeks. I tried to get the next part out before my tears of relief started falling, but I didn't quite make it. "Rose, what happened? Where did you go that night? I've been worried sick about you, worried literally to death about you."
"When you said you wouldn't... wouldn't fuck me, I was scared you didn't want me any more. I was afraid you thought I was just a dumb, confused kid, and I didn't blame you for not wanting to fuck a dumb, confused kid. But I'm not confused, everything is so clear, I know I'll love you forever, I swear I will. I know you probably think I'm too young, but I'm old enough to know how badly I want to be your woman. Even if we can't get married, it doesn't matter, I'll always love you, and it'll always be right. Don't you remember telling me about Iris? How you said you'd always love her to your dying day? And Lilly? You feel the same about Lilly, too, you said you did." I nodded briefly, wishing I hadn't told her that. How was I to know I'd be undercutting myself? Rose pressed on, "Well it's the same for me! I'll love you later the way I love you now, so we might as well be together right now!" She leaped at me and hugged me around the neck, straddling my lap as I sat on the cot. "You see that, don't you? You see my love, you have to know how much I love you. Please let me give you this." All I could do in response was pull her close and hug her to me as tight as I could. I laid back on the cot and laid her down beside me, stroking her hair, looking at those soft features that would never look like a child's face to me again, and a huge part of me moaned over that loss.
"I'm ready now, Jack, as ready as I'll ever be. Lay with me and love me, put your penis inside me and let me wrap my vagina around you and hold you close down there and make you cum, let me make you feel how much I love you."
"Rose, telling you yes would give me the greatest pleasure I could hope for in this life, but for right now, you have to let me say No, not yet," I whispered, rubbing at my eyes. "I'm not denying you, please believe that. You just have to trust me. We'll know when it's the right moment, we just have to be patient. I swear to you it's true." At her look of hope restored, I nodded. "Yes, we will do it, and when we finally do, you'll understand why it's worth waiting for."
She snuggled into me, and I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her close once more. The perfume was rich in my nose, and up close I could see how inexpertly the eyeliner had been applied. It was too much to believe, too much to hope for. The other shoe had dropped, and it was lighter than a ballerina's slipper. The governor had called just before the switch was thrown. I had drawn an orange card from the top of the deck to see my own "Get out of jail free" card. She was here, now, wrapped up in my arms, and the relief was almost more painful than the ache that had preceded it. She buried her face in my neck and kissed my throat, and I was stroking her hair, caressing her back, running my hand hungrily over her soft rump, gently squeezing her thighs. She giggled and reached down to my crotch. "I can feel something getting big-ger," she said in a cute little sing-song. She looked at me earnestly before saying, "Can I see it go from soft to hard? I want to see how that happens." I had to smile, knowing I couldn't deny her.
"Oh, okay," I said in a mock growl of irritation; then, in all earnestness, "hang on, it might take a while to get it soft again, give me a moment," I said, and I laid back and thought of boring things until I felt the erection collapse. "Okay," I said, "but we have to hurry, it'll probably start getting hard again right away." I pulled my pants and shorts down to my knees and lay back. My softness was already starting to leave as a full erection surged back. She grinned to see it rise like that.
"OhmyGod, that's like a magic trick," she purred, "that's so cool! Can I touch it?" And without waiting for an answer, she reached out to wrap her delicate fingers around the shaft, glancing nervously at me as I groaned from the bottom of my balls. "What should I do with it? How can I make you feel good?" I put my hand on hers and showed her how to stroke the shaft. She enjoyed that immensely, sitting up so she could use both hands, then leaning down to get a close-up view of what she was doing. The feeling was incredible, her soft hands were warm and tender, and she was by turns gentle and vigorous. "Hey, what's this called?" she asked. "What I'm doing right now, is there a special name for this?" I said I didn't know how special it was, but it was just called a handjob. "But it's not a job, it's fun!" she laughed, and I had to laugh with her in spite of myself. I told her it was also called jacking off. She sounded it off silently to herself, then gazed at me with amazed humor, stroking me rhythmically and softly chanting, "Jack, Jack, your name is Jack, I love you Jack, I love to jack, I love to jack you off, Jack!" I could only moan in response, it felt so good to be touched by her that I couldn't have stopped it for anything in the world, and the smell of her perfume just kept rolling over me.
She paused, then leaned forward and put her hands on my chest to stare earnestly into my eyes. "You know, it seems like more than half the pictures in your magazine showed those women putting a penis in their mouth, and I really want to do that for you. Except I don't know what it's called. If I put your penis in my mouth, is that called eating you?"
"No, it's called a blowjob," I told her, my sense of shock definitely less than it should have been, and I could see a lightbulb come on over her head, "except you don't blow, you suck on it. I don't know why it's called a blowjob, it just is."
"Oh wow," she said, "that's a blowjob? I heard Brittany use that word when she was talking to some of her posse, she said she gave her boyfriend a blowjob and that it was a big mess, and I had no idea what she meant, and I wasn't about to ask her, but I didn't know who else to ask. I almost asked you, but I was almost sure it was probably something filthy, and I didn't want you to think I was a filthy girl. So then, what Brittany meant about the big mess, she must have been talking about her boyfriend cumming. OhmyGod, do you think he cummed in her mouth?" Her soft eyes got so big at the thought that I started laughing uncontrollably, but she just ignored my hilarity. "What happens if cum gets in your mouth? You can't get pregnant from getting cum in your mouth, can you?"
"No," I said, after I stopped laughing long enough to catch my breath, "you can only get pregnant if the cum gets in your vagina, if it gets anywhere else, you're safe." I thought for a few seconds. "It's also called sucking cock," I added, wondering if she had heard that one too.
"Sucking cock," she repeated thoughtfully, "a penis is also called a cock," as she touched it reverently. "I used to hear Brittany use that word all the time, like 'I won't touch his cock until he's taken a shower', and 'I never let him stick his cock in until he's been begging for an hour.'" She pursed her lips thoughtfully and started idly stroking me, then asked, "What it's like to suck cock, what does it taste like?"I had to tell her I didn't know, but given the difference in smell between a cock and a pussy, and knowing how a pussy tastes, I assumed a cock would taste different. Rose nodded thoughtfully for a moment, then bent down to breathe on the head. We both held our breaths for a long second, and then she put her lips on the tip and slowly, slowly took the whole head into her mouth. Her tongue was running around the edge, lapping and tasting, and I could see her cheeks moving in and out as she sucked. The sensation was unbelievable, and I could only groan helplessly, "Oh God, oh God, oh my God." She kept it up for long minutes, working her way farther and farther down the shaft, until she had half the length in her mouth, her ponytail bobbing up and down as she sucked and sucked and sucked, until I reached the point when I knew I would only last for a few more seconds. I stopped her by gripping her shoulder and pushing her back.
"Nothing, sweetheart, you were doing great. But we have to go a little slower, that's all. We have to save some for later. You were about to make me cum." Her eyes flew open at the thought of her success.
"You're kidding," she said, "you mean you were going to cum in my mouth?"
"I would have, if you'd kept it up," I told her.
"Then why did you stop me, Jack? I want you to cum in my mouth, I want to make you cum like you made me cum."
"Let's not think about that just yet, we have to take it slow and enjoy the wait, enjoy exploring each other and taking our time. Here, let me give you a massage. Oh God, Rose, I do love you, I swear I do."
I slowly pulled her shirt over her head, stopping after it was off to admire her hard nipples and the glitter sparkling across her chest. I pulled up and fastened my pants with some difficulty, stripped off my shirt, then slowly, teasingly slowly, I undid her pants and pulled them off, rolling her over on her stomach. As I rubbed her shoulders and neck, she began making little animal moans of pleasure. Her perfume was rich in my nose, and I lay down on top of her, burying my nose in her hair, kissing and nibbling her neck. I started kissing my way down to the small of her back, then moved down to her ankles and kissed my way slowly up her legs, until I was gently licking the backs of her thighs. I rubbed her beautifully rounded butt through the panties for a bit, then slipped underneath to continue rubbing. She helped me slip the panties off, and as she lay there naked before me, I showed her what it felt like to have someone kiss her butt. The gentle globes of her ass were tenderly delicious, and the soft, earthy smell between them was a magical aphrodisiac in its own right. At first, she clenched her ass cheeks together, trying to keep me out, not quite understanding what was going on, or why I was plowing my lips so deeply into the crack. As my tongue made first contact, she suddenly relaxed with an almost soundless "ooooohhhhhhhhhh", and I gently pulled the cleavage aside to get my first glimpse of the puckered little rosebud of her rectum. My tongue was doing all the work now, swirling around the hole, darting over it, gently gently gently penetrating the opening, and Rose made a series of little "ahh, ahh, ahh" noises, each one the punctuation of one of my tongue stabs. As this was going on, my fingers were inching ever closer to her moist vagina, and as I touched the lips, it felt like she was getting ready to let loose a flood. My erection was as hard as it had ever been in my life.
The sound of the clubhouse door opening and someone walking back toward the pool threw us into a blind panic. I pulled my shirt on and struggled to get my erection to go away, and Rose pulled on her panties and pants even faster than the other time I had seen her pull them on like that. By the time the footsteps reached us, we were both fully dressed and sitting on opposite sides of the room from each other. As we feared, there was a knock on the door.
"Brent, have you seen Rose?" Marjorie asked from the other side of the door. Rose's hands flew up to her mouth and she looked petrified. I leaned over, put my mouth against her ear, and whispered so quietly that she could barely hear me, "It's okay, sweetheart, just be cool, I know you can do this." Then to the locked door, "Yes, I have seen Rose." I swung open the door and jerked a thumb over my shoulder, blocking Marjorie's view of her daughter to give Rose time to compose herself. "She's in here with me, we've just been shooting the breeze. She didn't tell me she had any certain time she had to be home, is she in trouble?"
"Oh God no," Marjorie laughed, slurring her words almost imperceptibly, "I just didn't want to win any Worst Mother awards by not knowing where my child is this late on a school night. I'm relieved to know she's with you, it's comforting to know she's here instead of out causing trouble." Marjorie put a hand on my shoulder to lean around me and look in at Rose, and for the first time, I felt her breasts pushing up against my chest. I glanced over my shoulder and was gratified to see Rose looking completely normal and relaxed. "Rose, honey, it's very late, come on home now, I'm sure Brent needs his rest too, don't overstay your welcome."
"Don't be silly," I said, a little too loudly, "Rose is welcome here anytime day or night, for as long as she likes." Marjorie glanced at me just a shade too sharply for comfort, but then she just smiled and, as God is my witness, she ruffled my hair as she said, "Well don't be a stranger, feel free to drop over whenever, I know Rose would be glad of the company after ages and ages of her old battleaxe mom." Rose made a face and stuck out her tongue at Marjorie, and the relief of being able to laugh at this was so intense that I knew I was in danger of becoming hysterical. Marjorie wished me a good night, and Rose and I stood there in the door watching her stagger ever so slightly as she made her way out.
When we were back in my room with the door closed behind us, Rose took my hand and put it on her chest, under her shirt. I thought at first it was an overture to lovemaking, but then I felt her heart doing a staccato triphammer in her ribcage, and I knew she was sharing her terror with me.
"It's okay, baby, everything's okay now." I held her close, stroking her hair and cooing softly. "You see? We must have a guardian angel." Rose made a noise that seemed perfectly balanced between a hearty laugh and a mournful sob.
"Oh God, Jack, I love you so much it feels like my heart's going into meltdown. I love you, I love you, please make it so we can be together. Please make everything be okay so we can be like this always. I've got so much love in my heart, I feel like I'm going to burst." All I could do was sigh. When she finally pulled away, she grabbed my neck to pull my mouth down to hers, for the most soulful and sincere kiss I've ever had, before or since. After she was gone, I paid a visit to the shower, to clean off and give myself release; the release I hoped to be able to share with her sooner or later. If we were able to tap dance our way through this minefield, that was.
20 ...baby I'm amazed at the way you love me all the time, maybe I'm afraid of the way I love you... Maybe I'm Amazed (Paul McCartney)
In the days that followed, Rose delighted in tormenting me in dozens of small, playful, cruel ways. Leaning across the billiard table, in full view of other tenants who were lounging in the recreation area, she made sure I could see straight down the front of her shirt, could see her braless bareness, her stiff nipples, as she leaned over the felt to consider her shot. At the swimming pool, she developed a sudden passion for jumping backward off the diving board, making sure I had an unrestricted view of her hips, her sweet rounded buttocks, pushing out as she pretended to line up her jump. Once, helping me to clean up the upstairs dining room after a party that some of the tenants had given, she backed into me and ground her hips orgiastically into my crotch in a way that would have done a veteran stripper proud, stopping only a split-second before one of the tenants who had attended the party stuck his head up the stairs looking for a lost jacket. Why had I not noticed all those grey hairs in the mirror before? All these lines in my face getting clearer...
After that night when Rose saw me in the shower, and while she had been struggling so hard with her unspoken desires, our relationship had been a shadow of what it was. Now that the tension between us was resolved, our feelings for each other did far more than resume their rightful place, they transformed, became sweeter and deeper than I would have known possible. Once again, we were meeting in my room on a daily basis, but now there was much less talk of trivial things. Our conversations, if they can be called that, were much more about pleasing each other and were showered with sweet nothings and gentle caresses. Now it was "honey" this, and "darling" that, and it felt like every other word was "beloved", as we touched here and there on each other's bodies, kissed this part or licked that part of each other. We were careful not to stay too long or get too distracted to be mindful of our surroundings. While it was fairly stressful, being constantly on the alert for anyone coming too close for comfort while trying to just relax in each others' arms, it was worth it. We felt now like we had all the time in the world to just explore and learn about each other. Her kiss was always fresh, always new and sharp and welcoming and intent and inquisitive and warm. Countless times we lay there together naked beneath the sheets, slowly stroking each other's bodies and learning the little tendernesses that were most appreciated by the other.She would kiss me all over, starting with my forehead and working her way down to my toes, then back up again, her tongue exploring each curve and crevice with an intensity that left me shivering, and she allowed (encouraged) me to return the favor in full measure.
March came in like a lion, all bitter winds and grey days, but within a week's time, showed that it was serious about ushering in Spring. After only a few days' worth of unseasonal warmth, most of the snow and ice had vanished. On a lazy Sunday afternoon, as we lay on the floor of my room, me in a t-shirt and briefs, Rose in her bra and panties, deliciously massaging each other's chests, Rose suddenly looked me square in the eyes and said, "Tell me about Iris." I was a little... well, not startled, but definitely uneasy. After a few seconds' consideration, I asked what she wanted to know.
"What did you do with her? I mean, did you just kiss, or hug, or... did you..." and as she beamed her pixie smile at me, she waggled her eyebrows with such Groucho-style comic abandon that I was reduced to tears of laughter.
When I could breathe again, I said, "No, we never actually had sex... well, yes, what we did was sexual, but we never made love... hmmm... okay, yes, it was love-making, but we never actually fucked. She did give me a few blowjobs, but I was never close to cumming with her, not like with you. Most of what Iris and I did was what you and I are doing now, just touching and caressing. And we spent a lot of time dry-humping."
"!!! Dry-humping? What's that?" she asked, taking her hands off me so she could sit up; I took this as a signal that she considered it a serious discussion and wanted to give her full attention to the conversation.
"Well, humping is another way of describing intercourse, less harsh, I suppose, than the word 'fucking', but not really any less vulgar. Dry-humping is like fucking, except you leave your underwear on, so your genitals don't actually touch."
"And just when were you going to tell me about this?" she ranted in mock-indignation. "You mean we could be pretend-fucking right now?"
"To tell the truth, I hadn't thought about it in so long that I completely forgot it was anything I ever did. You're right," I admitted, "it IS something we could do."
"Well then, shut up and let's get down to it, boyfriend!" she laughed. She straddled me, sitting on my chest to begin with, then slowly working her way back, until her cotton-covered buttocks pushed up against the hardness in my briefs. "Mmmmmm, that's nice," she murmured, shifting back and forth, obviously enjoying the sensation of having yet another piece of me trying to work it's way into the crevice. She carefully continued to maneuver her way down, until her sex was pressing up against the underside of my shaft. "Ooooo, that's even nicer," she said with a lazy, greasy smile that made me harder still. I reached out to slip her bra up over her breasts, and she undid the bra and tossed it lightly aside. I was gazing at two gorgeous little mounds of flesh, the nipples sticking straight out, bouncing slightly under the movement of her body. As I reached up to slip my fingers over her nipples, she let out a quiet little "aaahhhhh" and closed her eyes. "Ohhh, that's nice," she purred, that greasy smile sliding further over her face, then, "Hey, wait a sec, I wanna do something." She rolled off me, then pulled her knees up to her chest and slid her panties off. "As long as they don't actually touch, we're okay, right?" And without waiting for my answer, she climbed back on top of me, sliding her now exposed lips up and down over the underside of my trapped shaft. "Ooooo, God, that's even better!" she said, her voice a sultry swirl of satin that made my hardness pulse uncontrollably. When she felt that, felt the throb and felt my cock jump beneath her, she gave a very quiet shriek of delight. "You like that too, huh?" she husked, and her smile just kept getting greasier and sexier, her eyes rolling back in her head as her unrestrained hair fell over her face. She was really getting into it now, sliding up and down, up and down, her tender boobs rippling with the impact on every downstroke, when she reached my balls and started back up again toward the head. The sensation was amazing, and I gently encouraged her to concentrate on riding the head. The feeling was building deliciously slowly, mounting and fading, and it was pure pleasure.
She must have spent a good hour just riding me through my briefs, grinding herself against me, moaning and breathless, until we were both covered in sweat and had each climaxed at least twice (I think it was more like a dozen times for her). We finished the night with separate showers in the locker rooms and a little nighttime swim. We had the pool all to ourselves. God, it was so romantic, splashing around in the water with her so close, the only light coming from the underwater floods, one at each end of the pool, although I think we were emitting some light of our own from the afterglow. It must have been almost 11 pm by the time we were busted by Marjorie, standing there with her hands on her hips and lips pursed, severely annoyed with me for letting Rose stay out so late on a school night. I could only grin foolishly and promise not to let it happen again, and Marjorie just laughed it off, her annoyance seemingly vanished by my boyish charm (hah).
Rose was like a kid with a new toy; she just couldn't get enough of it. We rarely talked like we used to, because as soon as we were alone together, she was all over me. We continued the dry-hump sessions for a couple of weeks, and probably would have kept it up, except that one night she told me she had just started her period and didn't feel up to a session. I played with her a little through her underwear, and we fell to talking about her period. After she had the first one, it had been almost three months before it happened again. The next couple of periods after that were at least a couple of months apart, and she was noticing that they seemed to be settling into a regular rhythm. The last two before this had been about 28 days apart (she had kept such a careful count, proud of herself for both her body's abilities and her attention to this detail), and the one that had started tonight was 29 days in. "Guess I'm almost a complete woman now, right?" she teased, rubbing my thigh playfully with her knee and moving slowly closer to my crotch. "If I wasn't having my period right now, do you think we'd be ready for it?" I rubbed her shoulders and neck slowly, kissing her nose and closed eyelids while I considered my response.
"The first time shouldn't be rushed," I said slowly, "the first time has to be magic, has to be starlight and rose petals and gently billowing curtains, since it will be a memory that has to last throughout your lifetime." Her smile, and the look of love on her face when I told her that, was so beautiful that I almost got watery-eyed right then and there.
The next night, Rose talked me into letting her repeat the blowjob she had started those several weeks before. She wanted to suck me to completion, but I stopped her before I came, and she finished the job by hand, amused and amazed to see my load spurting out onto my stomach and chest. She was so pleased by being able to witness her ability to make me cum that we actually gave up the dry-hump sessions as she repeated the performance every night for three weeks. For the first dozen or so times, I just couldn't bring myself to cum in her mouth, and I always stopped her before I unloaded so she could finish the job by hand. Strange, that I never had any such reluctance with Lilly. Well, not so strange, I guess, Lilly was the teacher in that relationship, whereas here it was me.
The time came, though, when Rose demanded the full experience, the feeling of me shooting into her mouth, so I eventually gave in. The first time I did, I let her know when I was about to shoot, and she became much more vigorous, wanting to pleasure me to the greatest degree she was able. When I finally did climax, her expression was priceless; her eyes got huge as she felt my juice shooting into her mouth, but she kept it up until she knew I was done, then spit it out into a tissue she had with her for that specific purpose, licking her lips as if to better gauge the taste.
"Well," I asked, "what do you think of it?" She had to consider for a few seconds, then said, "It was warm and salty, and gooey, sticky gooey like glue, it wasn't really like anything I've ever tasted before. I think I liked it, but I'll have to try it a few more times to be sure. And if I do, then I'll swallow it."
Now it was my turn to pause and think for a few seconds. "I'm not sure about that, sweetheart," I cautioned, "I don't know if that's really something you want to do." As much as I had loved Lilly, there was just something unredeemably whorish about swallowing a man's load, and I didn't know if I was capable of thinking of Rose in that same whorish way. In the final analysis, though, I had to admit that it wasn't up to me; if Rose wanted to swallow my cum, there wasn't much I could do to stop her. I could only wait until the moment happened, and deal with it the best I could when it did; I didn't know at the time that the moment would leave me incapacitated and unable to deal with anything.
The moment came one April night when we were out taking a stroll, enjoying the newly warming season. We had walked to the Gas-N-Save station that sat on the entrance to the cul-de-sac where the complex was, for a tray of nachos and a couple of games of pinball.Before we left, I bought each of us a hot dog, making her snort soda pop through her nose when I called them "tube steaks," then we ate them as we slowly strolled back through the gloom of early evening, down the street that dead-ended in front of the manager's office. When we got back, Rose took me by the hand and pulled me behind the row of garages that sat next to the office; we were in a narrow space between the buildings, just big enough for the two of us to walk side by side. Still holding my hand, Rose pulled me around a bend in the space that completely isolated us from any outside eyes, then stopped and turned to me. "That tube steak was good," she grinned in the dusk, "I think I'm ready for another one." Before I knew what she was about, she had dropped to her knees and pulled my pants and underwear down in one smooth motion. I was still soft when she took me in her mouth; that lasted about two seconds, and I got a full, raging erection faster than I ever had in my life. Then she was sliding her tongue up and down my stiff member, licking and sucking, teasing my balls with her fingers. I remember glancing up nervously, trying to see if there was any way we could be seen by anybody; we were completely concealed between the buildings, and only someone walking directly down that little space toward us would have seen us. Her mouth was wet and incredible, and as I realized I was almost ready to explode, I also realized what she was doing and why. As her fingers slipped down past my balls and worked their way back between my thighs, her wriggling fingernails touched what felt to me like an electric wire that had been jammed between my legs. As the orgasm overwhelmed me and I shot my load, she was ready, her warm, willing mouth covering the head and absorbing my spurt. She gagged just a little, then hit her stride and swallowed every last drop, milking me with her mouth and keeping up the pressure with her fingernails on that little magic button, as if she might be pushing the last little bits of cum out of my balls, until my legs turned to jelly and collapsed. Before I knew what had happened, I was laying on my back, looking up in wonder at the little strip of stars that showed between the buildings, trying to catch my breath while the aftershocks raced the length of my legs and made little lightning strikes up my spine. She climbed on top of me and nestled my still throbbing organ between her thighs, laughing and coughing. "I made you fall down!" she whispered delightedly, "I sucked you dry and you fell down!" I could only grunt in response. As good as Lilly had been, as many times as she had sucked me off, it had never felt anything like this. I heard myself breathing as I lay there, and still the aftershocks were jolting me, sending electric blasts through the area beneath my balls. I could only guess that she had somehow triggered something in my prostate that kept sending rushes of pleasure for long minutes after the orgasm. It was an altered state, like being high on a drug. All I could do was lay there and twitch and breathe for such a long time that Rose started to get worried about me, then scared she had damaged me somehow. With a supreme effort, I took her hand and squeezed, and managed to give her a weak smile, and after another few minutes I was able to sit up. "My God," I told her, "that was the most intense thing I've ever felt in my life. I don't think I could stand that on a daily basis, my heart would explode!" Rose just grinned manically, and I could see she was taking careful note for future reference.
It wasn't all one direction, no it wasn't. I performed orally on Rose at least every other day, replaying our first encounter, with my mouth travelling the length and breadth of her body and always ending up with my tongue deep in her valley, great handfuls of my hair between her grasping fingers as urged me on, panting and shaking and cumming in my mouth with her delicate spicy essence, her thighs battering my ears and her heels pounding me on the back (a strangely relaxing pummeling). These sessions were usually exciting enough for me that I wound up cumming along with her, ejaculating without ever touching my penis, simply reaching a spontaneous orgasm from the sheer thrill of making her feel so good. When I pointed this out to Rose, she just touched my face and whispered, "It's love, you dope, love that's giving us all this happiness. I love you, Jack, with all my body and soul."
21 ...A fat pink cloud hangs over a hill, unfolding like a rose, if you hold my hand and sit real still, you can hear the grass as it grows... It's a hazy afternoon, and I know a place that's quiet 'cept for daisies running riot, and there's no one passing by it to see... Lazy Afternoon (Vanessa Williams)
As the weather warmed and spring moved in to stay, the savage thrill, the raw newness of sex that made her want it constantly, had begun to fade, to be replaced by a gentler rhythm that had less to do with animal lust and more to do with lifelong friends who shared the most intimate part of each other. We still did it every day, and sometimes two and three times a day, but it no longer had the urgent, almost manic quality of pounding down shots of tequila; now it was more the tender, quiet loveplay of soulmates who savored each moment like fine wine.
We started riding our bikes again. Rose had discovered a hiking path that intersected with Griffin Ridge, and we rode down it into the newly greening woods that wound between the river and the interstate, stopping occasionally to share something we'd seen with each other, or to briefly embrace and steal a kiss before moving on down the path. There were a few empty patches here and there, areas devoid of trees for a space of perhaps 20 to 30 feet across, with a wealth of long, yellow grasses that surrounded the tiny path on either side. As we came to the edge of one of these clearings, Rose stopped and climbed off her bike, letting it down gently to rest on the soft ground where the grasses started. I did the same, and taking my hand to pull me along, Rose led us into the middle of the clearing, where we lay down in the long grass next to each other. The warmth of the sun on our bodies was a perfect counterpoint to the sound of highway traffic some 60 or 80 feet above us and the constant rush of the river, not two minutes' walk from where we lay. Rose wiggled out of her pants and tucked the hips of her panties up to simulate a high-cut bathing suit, then pulled her shirt off and unhooked her bra, but left the bra covering her breasts as she lay down in the meadowlet. "Trying to get a jump on some swimsuit tan lines," she grinned up at me. Leaning over her, I could see only now in the full sunlight a faint sprinkling of freckles across her chest. I'd never seen this part of her in light this strong. I idly traced the pattern of the freckles and must have tickled her, because she giggled and pushed my hand away. "They've been fading for a while now," she explained, "and I think they'll probably be completely gone in another year or two." She reached up under my t-shirt to rub my chest. We spent an idyllic hour or so, softly kissing and teasing, idly stroking, with no sense of urgency or need to do anything more than what we were doing, and no pressure of any kind to perform or move on. We repeated the experience often throughout that spring and summer, just holding each other close and being with each other. If there is any kind of Heaven, and we are allowed to have any say in what it's like for us, and I am not turned away at the gates, then I think those hours we spent together in the grass comes closest to what I would want my Heaven to be like. I was so in love with her, and she with me, that everything was right between us, everything flowed, everything was exactly where it was supposed to be. It was a sweet spot, a pocket of such utter divine bliss that we knew we had arrived in each other's hearts and found we were in exactly the same place.
22 ...I walk to the horizon and there I find another, it all seems so surprising, and then I find that I know... Anywhere Is (Enya)
The new school year brought the usual complaints from Rose about teachers and students, even as she started in a new environment: the piranha pit known as junior high. The school was only ten blocks away from the apartments. That, plus the fact that the school day was over a good half hour earlier than at her last school, meant that Rose was usually home before 3:30 every day. Most days, she didn't even go by their apartment first; Marjorie never got home from work before 5:30, which meant that we usually spent the afternoons together. When Rose would come breezing through the clubhouse door, if she was certain nobody else was around, she would sing out, "Hi, honey, I'm home!" and then wrap her arms around me to give me her sweet lips. It was just like being married, and homier than anything I had known with Lilly.
Rose wanted to start preparing dinner in the afternoons. Prior to this, the evening meal for her all too often had been whatever simple thing Marjorie had the energy to fix after a long day at the office; mac and cheese, frozen pizza, sometimes just cereal and toast, or the occasional burger and fries from a drive-through on the way home. Rose was learning things in her Life Skills cooking class that she wanted to try out. She also wanted to show she was appreciative of her mother's energy being taken by her job, and she wanted to show Marjorie some of that appreciation by taking over meal preparations. The fact that the clubhouse kitchen was twice as large as the kitchen in their apartment, more room, more utensils, two ovens, three sinks, pretty much everything she could have wanted, made it a natural that she would want to work there.Well, that and the fact that I was always right there helping her out. Many nights we stood side by side in the kitchen, peeling potatoes or frying up rice, boiling noodles or stirring sauces, whatever Rose could think of to make dinner a little more special. It felt like we were an old married couple, doing the household chores together, sharing life in a way that had somehow escaped me during my time with Lilly, and my heart throbbed with the unfamiliar feeling of domesticity. Yet one more way in which my tender little flower brought me bliss.
Following the meal preparation, Rose would leave me a third of the food and take the rest home, and she and Marjorie would have their time together, after which Rose would do her homework (if she had any, which she usually didn't, or if we had neglected it during the afternoon) and then head back to the clubhouse for her evenings with me. Usually it was movies or TV, cards or Scrabble or swimming, but we always left at least the last half hour for lovemaking behind the locked door of my room.
That was the way we spent almost every weekday evening, for the first few weeks of the school year. Eventually, Marjorie managed to browbeat me into stopping by their apartment to share supper with them at least once a week, and then I usually stayed around for a while after supper, sitting on the couch to watch TV with Rose on one side and Marjorie on the other. Occasionally, Marjorie had to busy herself at the kitchen table with work she had brought home, and Rose and I took special pleasure in slinking down into the couch cushions, below Marjorie's line of vision, to steal a kiss every now and then. More often, though, Marjorie joined us on the couch, and then I had the unusual sensation of a slight resentment of Marjorie's presence preventing Rose and I from cuddling, mixed with a pleasant lassitude at finding myself ensconced between the beauty that was my lover and the beauty that was her mother. Marjorie usually had a mixed drink in hand, and I took to sharing a drink with her; and occasionally, her hand would stray to my knee, to rest there for perhaps five or ten minutes, before being withdrawn. I'm not entirely sure Marjorie was always aware she did this; it seemed somehow like force of habit, or perhaps a familiarity she had never learned to give up. Whatever the reason, I never remarked or acted on it. The first few times it happened, Rose and I exchanged significant glances, but then it just seemed to become part of the evening, and nothing noteworthy. Dinner, small talk, TV, hand on the knee, and at the end of the evening, Rose would walk me back to my room for a few sweet nothings, then race home and try to get into bed without having to speak to Marjorie (so that my voice would be the last thing she heard before going to sleep; sigh).
At first, Rose had been worried that moving up to a whole new level of school might be more difficult than what she was ready for. After the first few days, though, she came to realize that in a lot of ways, seventh grade was actually easier than sixth grade had been. Her class was made up of a blend of students from several different elementary schools, and the curriculum had been geared to the lowest common denominator. She found her assignments (in everything but algebra) to be a cakewalk, and it wasn't very often that she wasn't able to complete her work during the school day. Sometimes she got so far ahead that she had time to sit in class and observe the other students. While her descriptions of the other kids in class were always hilarious and we shared hearty laughs over her witticisms, one or two kept me nervously guessing. In her American Literature class, a boy named Ben seemed to be particularly adept at insulting Mr. Malkin (the teacher) without Malkin's appearing to understand he was being twitted. In Computer Skills, it was Javier, a quiet dark-skinned guy who sat across the aisle from her and who seemed to always be giving her sideways glances whenever she looked over at him. It is a hard and bitter thing to hear your lady love talk about other men, especially when you're doing your damnedest to appear nonchalant while your heart is on a taffy-stretcher.
Having caught up to Brittany and company, she found they at least didn't object when she spent every lunch hour at the same table with them, eavesdropping on their stories about boys trying to get into their pants and the ways they kept them at bay (or gave in, depending on which girl was talking and which boy she was talking about). Sometimes she was content to just listen, she said, but sometimes she was dying to tell them, to recount some of her own exploits, just to feel like part of the group, to be able to share that rapport with them. At the worried expression on my face, she just laughed and said, "I'd never do that to you, Jack, I know it has to stay a secret, I swear it always will. It's just that sometimes, I feel like I'm going to bust open if I can't tell someone about my lover and how good he makes me feel. I'd even be one up on them, because all they ever do is complain about their boyfriends being rude and rushing them through things, and not doing anything to make THEM feel good, and I want SO BAD to tell them that I know how a real gentleman acts, that I have a lover who makes me feel like the most precious thing in the world, who rocks me until I can't breathe. I've thought about telling them, you know, just being vague enough so they wouldn't know who I was talking about, but then I thought, no, that just sounds like a pretend lover even to me. It could only be worth it if they believed me, believed I've done the stuff they talk about, the blowjobs and stuff, and I could make them SO jealous when I tell them about how much a REAL man LIKES to eat pussy, and then they'd have to meet you in person so they could see what I'm talking about."
"Angel, I wish I could oblige you. I think it would be fun to help you out like that, it would be a blast to see Brittany's face when you introduce me as your lover, I'll bet that would give her a nasty turn." What I'd heard of Brittany made me think she was a stuck-up little whore who knew how much power she had over males and didn't mind exercising that power. It was fun to think of her being deflated by Rose, when she learned of Rose's power over ME. "But then Brittany would tell someone, and..." Rose put her little hand on my mouth to tell me that she had already been through that in her head and that it was okay, she knew it had to stay secret. What the hell. Tiffany was probably well-known as a cumdumpster anyway, it would be her word against Rose's (and mine, I suppose), and as far as I knew, Rose and I hadn't done anything to make anybody else suspicious; but I just couldn't risk it, couldn't risk tearing us apart like that.
Rose's schedule for the year included the usual mix of classes. I noticed that her English Literature class, scheduled for the spring semester, was being taught by the same teacher that she had this semester for American Literature. I learned from Rose that the G in G Malkin was for Garry. I also learned that Ben's penchant for messing with this teacher included subtly mispronouncing his name (maudlin, makin', mulekin) to see if Malkin would notice or rise to the bait. Either he hadn't caught on or was just too intimidated to deal with it.
Apparently, when Malkin made an assignment for his students to write a paper about an author, he didn't confine the choice of author to ones they had discussed, but threw the entire category open for choice. Rose wondered if, during her English Literature class with him, when she selected Lewis Carroll as the subject of a paper, whether she might be able to just recycle her "Alices" paper from last year. She had gotten an A+ on it, and was intrigued by the idea of claiming two grades for one paper, but a little worried over whether that was ethical. I don't think I was corrupting her by telling her there wasn't anything wrong with it; her thoughts on the books, I said, wouldn't have changed enough in one year to justify writing a whole new paper. We were in the alley behind the Dairy Suite on Gannon when we had this discussion, and my opinion on the subject earned me a sloppy milkshake kiss that ended up with both of us having ice cream all over our mouths and chins. We were laughing so hard over it that we couldn't get back on our bikes for five minutes.
October moved in with a flourish of dry leaves, yet the nights were still warm, warmer than the season warranted. Marjorie had to leave town. Her job was preparing to migrate to a whole new system of doing business, and her employer was sending a group of ten employees to some 3-day class in Atlanta to learn the new system, scheduled for the week after Rose's 13th birthday. The class was Monday through Wednesday, but to get a cheaper airline fare, the company had purchased tickets on a flight leaving the Friday night before, so they'd actually be gone for five days. Marjorie fretted over it for a long time; she really wanted and needed to go to this class, but she was worried about leaving Rose alone. She actually came to see me, to ask if I would mind staying at their apartment to keep an eye on Rose while she was out of town, she'd make it worth my while, and I was to feel free to sleep in her bed and use their car while she was gone. I almost begged her not to put the responsibility on me, I was so worried about the possibilities of loose talk by neighbors, of our secret being discovered.But in the end, I kept my mouth shut and agreed to stay with Rose. When she learned of this arrangement, she actually knocked me over with her excitement and joy, knocking me flat on my backside as she jumped on me, rubbing my hair and squealing, "OhmyGod, ohmyGod, ohmyGOD, we are gonna have so much FFUUNN!!!" With enthusiasm like that to draw on, I soon lost any nervous edge I might have had over the whole thing.
We drove Marjorie to the airport. While we were waiting for her flight to be ready, she fretted and fussed over Rose, nervous and out-of-sorts at having to leave her. Just before she boarded, she turned to me and, with a nervous flinch or three, put her arms around me so she could put her lips up to my ear. "You take good care of her, Brent," she whispered, "I'm giving you charge of the only thing in my life that means anything." I wanted to tell her I knew exactly how she felt, that Rose was the only thing in my life that meant anything, too, but I settled for just promising to take very special care of her, grimacing a little inwardly at the dichotomy between what Marjorie would understand by 'very special care' and what I actually intended. With a nervous smile, she turned and walked down the ramp with the rest of the passengers, pausing just before turning the bend of the ramp to wave at us. Rose and I waved back, and then she was gone from sight. We watched as the plane took off, getting smaller and smaller until it finally vanished into the fading afternoon. Even after the plane was completely gone, Rose and I just stood there side by side in the lounge for a long time afterward, savoring the weirdly mixed taste of freedom and responsibility, knowing the night was completely ours to do with as we chose. Eventually, we stirred ourselves out of our reverie and headed back to the car, walking very close but not touching, hearing each other's breathing in the still autumn night. When we were about 50 feet from the car, Rose's hand sought and slipped into mine, our fingers locking together, the slightest hint of moisture beginning to form in the hollow between our palms. We glanced at each other briefly, then took another look, and another; and by the time we were at the car, we were gazing openly into each other's eyes. Rose wrapped her arms around me and slipped her hands down the back of my pants. Shocked, I looked quickly around the lot. Apart from an older couple that was threading their way through the rows toward the terminal, we were alone. Bending over Rose, I put my mouth on hers for an exchange of breath and saliva that felt like a handful of seconds, but in that handful was an eternity of promise. We got in the car, and with my hand on Rose's knee and her hand on the back of my head, rubbing and scratching my scalp, we drove in silence to Flinger's, where we parked at the very end of the lot, just behind the fenced-off dumpster. As we sat there watching the final rays of sunset fade below the horizon, massaging each other's thighs and savoring the delicious, heady feeling of having the night ahead with only Marjorie's call from the hotel to worry about, Rose leaned over and laid her face in my lap, her sweet mouth covering my crotch with its tender warmth. As I was gently kneading her buttcheeks under her panties, a group of teenaged boys came ambling over to climb into a car parked two spaces down from us. My heart was pounding an insane rhythm in my chest, but I couldn't stop what I was doing, or warn Rose to stop. Rose could tell something was wrong, and as she sat up to look out the window, the car full of boys slid past us. A couple of them seemed to be looking right at us, and I was certain they'd seen Rose's head emerging from my lap; but the car just kept on moving, out onto the frontage road and into the night. Rose and I exchanged a significant look, but neither of us said anything more about it. Our meal was a little more subdued than I'd have wanted, but before it was over, we were back in our old familiar patterns, laughing and joking and swatting each other on the arm like the old pals we'd always been. Rose wanted one of the dessert menu's oversized cream puffs, boxed up to take with us for later, and I felt so good that I left a $5 tip for an $18 meal.
Back at the apartment complex, we pulled up and parked in Marjorie's usual spot near the back of their building. I told Rose to go on in, that I had to get something first, then I'd be right up. With a look of quiet joy, she nodded vigorously (did she know how weak I got at the sight of her ponytail bobbing up and down like that?), then bolted up the steps two at a time, pausing at the landing to look around. Assured nobody could see her, she blew me a kiss, then whirled to skip down the hall to her apartment, the Styrofoam container with the cream puff tucked under her arm. I hustled over to the clubhouse, where I stuffed a condom (from the box I had bought especially for this night) into my left pocket, grabbed the bottle of rosé wine that I had hidden at the back of the refrigerator, and retrieved the 13 roses and vase from the closet where I had hidden them the day before, after having picked them up at The Little Flower Shop next to Sav-Rite. Rose had left the door to the apartment standing open, and as I stepped inside and shut the door with my foot, I got a powerful whiff of Nag Champa incense, and the sound of the campus radio station's nightly jazz program reached me from somewhere further back in the apartment. As I sat the wine down on the kitchen counter, Rose came in from the hall. She had changed into what I assumed was one of Marjorie's nightgowns. It was a little big for her, a little baggy, but made from a shimmery and almost-but-not-quite transparent material, with a slit all the way up past the hips, and it was through this slit that her leg and bare hip emerged as she walked over to me. She had applied perfume; a dainty daub, not the bath she took the night she came back to me, but the lightest little dab behind her ears, on her shoulders; a trace on her creamy tummy, a brush under her tender, tender rosebud breasts? She took the roses from me with a gooey sweet smile smeared all over her face, her hands shaking at the unaccustomed, implied weight of such a gift. "OhmyGod, they're so beautiful!" she cried, stroking the petals and burying her nose in the middle. Feeling like my smile was going to reach all the way around to the back of my head, I told her, "That's just the same way I feel about you. Sorry it's late. It's 13 roses, for your 13th birthday." As she hustled over to the sink to fill the vase with water and arrange the flowers, she saw the bottle of rosé on the counter. Her priceless expression will be locked in my head forever. "Not a lot," I cautioned, wanting to be careful to manage her expectations, "just enough to feel it. You remember what I said about tonight?" She nodded solemnly. "Magic," she breathed, and I breathed back in agreement, "Magic."
While I opened the bottle, Rose got out a couple of plates and split the huge cream puff between them, licking the whipped cream off her fingers with an impish grin. I poured a couple of glasses and handed her one. We sat on the couch, our plates and glasses on the coffee table, and for the first five minutes or so, we just sat there gazing at each other, gently touching each other's hair and faces.
Rose had had burgundy before, so she was prepared for some kind of burn when she took her first few sips, but the rosé surprised her anyway. She said it made her chest cold, but then about 30 seconds later, she felt like it was burning. She downed the glass and asked coyly if I thought she could risk just one more. How could I say no? She took her time with the second glass, savoring the interplay of wine and cream puff, and in the process teaching me anew how to appreciate such things. She smeared a blob of whipped cream on my neck, then slowly and teasingly licked it off. I retaliated by smearing her face and cleaning it off the same way. More little tendernesses, trifles, tidbits we exchanged like almost-careless gifts, until we were laying full out on the couch, our hands exploring with greater urgency now.
The ringing phone startled us both. Pulling away from me, Rose answered and found it was Marjorie, calling from the hotel in Atlanta, letting us know she had arrived safe and sound. At Marjorie's request, Rose handed the phone to me. "Brent, thanks again, you don't know what it means to me to have you around. You're such a sweetheart, you really are a gift from God," she said, and I could tell that if she said anything more, she was going to start crying, so I wound it up and handed the phone back to Rose, who snuggled up on my lap to finish the call, her face against mine as she gently caressed my cheek. A minute later the call was over, and Rose returned the handset to its cradle with a slow and thoughtful expression.
I slipped out from under her, then stood and scooped her up in my arms to carry her down the hall. When I hesitated at the door of her room, she gestured with her head to Marjorie's room, then took her hand from my shoulder to point. "In there," she whispered, "let's go in there." So I carried her in and stood her next to the bed, where I bent to kiss her honey-sweet lips. As we were kissing, Rose unbuttoned and removed my shirt in a very unhurried and meaningful way, then undid my pants, letting them fall to the floor, leaving me standing there in my briefs, with my erection pressing to escape. I reached into my shorts and pulled my stiffness up so it was trapped against my stomach. Rose held her arms up, waiting on me, and I obliged by pulling off the nightgown. She stood naked before me, any possible trace of shame having been transformed to desire long ago.As I lay back on the bed, Rose climbed up on top of me like she had in so many dry-hump sessions before, and bending over to kiss my neck, she started slowly grinding her mound against my underwear, giving out little animal moans as she did so. The front of my briefs were starting to get very moist. My hands felt like they weren't under my control anymore, and I watched with a curious detachment as I kneaded and fondled the backs of her thighs and spread her buttcheeks, then roamed up her torso to tickle her under the arms. She moved up to plant her breasts in my face, and as I sucked on her nipples and fingered my way down between her buttcheeks, she ground herself into my stomach and hugged my head close.
"Jack, is this ready? Is this right? Is it going to happen tonight?" she was breathless from her exertion, and from the sheer nervousness of simply asking aloud, and from sheer disbelief that the night had finally arrived. "Are we going to... are we going to fu..." In response, I gently slid her off of me, got up, picked up my pants from the floor, and pulled a condom out of the pocket. When she saw that, Rose's eyes and mouth both made the same perfect O, and she reached in slow motion for the condom as if it were something in a dream, something that you know you have to be careful with, but that you can't help but reach for. With the little foil square trembling in her fingers, she looked up at me for direction. I touched the nightstand; "Leave it here for now," I whispered, and reverently, she laid it where I had indicated. Slipping off my shorts, I lay back down next to her. As if she had been holding back and couldn't stand it anymore, she attacked my balls, squeezing, stroking and licking, fondling and playing, pulling and squeezing hard and harder. I feared for a moment she might do some damage, but it was like my balls had become crush-proof; the harder she squeezed, the better it felt, and I just kept nodding like an idiot, eyes screwed shut, my mouth moving soundlessly, forming the word 'harder' over and over again. Then she was squeezing her tender young breasts together around them, trying to smother my balls in the soft folds of her flesh, her mouth buried in my stomach. Gripping her by her shoulders, I laid her on her stomach and straddled her. As I massaged her shoulders and back, my stiffness rubbing up against her buttcrack, she wriggled to push her hips up to me, pressing and rubbing herself against my member as her hands slipped down to her vagina to stroke and diddle. We played like that for a minute, both of our hands exploring and stroking the folds between her legs, our fingers touching as we sought the same flesh. Then she twisted around to lay on her back, spreading her legs as wide as she could. In the dim light from the living room, I could see as well as smell the moistness, the dewy exultation that drenched her down there. I had seen Rose wet before, but now it literally looked a faucet had been turned on. Powerless before the flow, I bent down to suck up as much as I could, my tongue exulting in the feel of that heat and juice. As I looked up to see her moaning, I saw her rolling her head slowly from one side to the other, lost in the feeling, drifting, drifting... little jolts in her thighs were making her legs spasm against my face. Somewhere above us, the music from the radio blended perfectly with the music from her throat, and I knew what it was to ride a tidal flow. Her inner walls gripped my tongue, seizing it in an embrace of joy that was tight and hot and altogether too much to quite believe. I moved up from her pussy to her stomach, then rubbed my stomach against her sex as I took her nipples, one at a time, into my mouth. Sliding further up, we were face to face, and the top side of my shaft was being drawn between her labia, getting soaked by the hot liquid.
Looking into my eyes in the darkened room, Rose breathed, a husky intake that was almost possessed. "I'm ready, Jack, I'm ready now, put it in me, put it in me now," she panted.
Rolling over onto my back, I took the condom off the dresser and held it up to her. She took it from me as if receiving a blessing.
"Open it," I urged, and she slowly tore open the top seam, then reached in to pull out the little rolled latex circle. I took her hand, showing her how to place the condom on my penis, encouraging her to roll it down around the shaft and make sure it was a snug fit. She squeezed the reservoir at the tip a couple of times, fascinated in the knowledge of what it would soon hold, and touching the ridges now circling my shaft as if they were some kind of Braille that she wanted desperately to learn.
I laid her back on the bed and knelt before her open legs, squeezing and pulling those hard little nipples. I gripped my shaft between my thumb and first two fingers. Slowly rubbing the head between her nether lips, I was directly over her, looking down into her eyes as I pushed in just the tiniest little bit, then a little bit more, and then I had the whole head in, where I had to stop so we could both take in the amazing feeling. Slowly, oh god so slowly, I eased my way further and further in, her moan so low it would have been frightening if I hadn't been so aroused, watching the perfect circle of her mouth as she said "oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh," and I continued to push in, slowly slowly slowly. She was so hot and tight and welcoming, the shock on her face as she felt me entering her was almost more than I could bear, and I wondered briefly if I would actually cry from the pleasure of it all. Suddenly I was pressed up against an obstruction, and Rose whimpered a little at the sensation.
"Okay, baby, you know what's coming next," I whispered, "you know how sorry I am that I have to hurt you. I'm going to push through, and then I'll just stop, okay? You ready?" I could feel, rather than see, her earnest nod. "On three, okay?" I told her. "One..." and then without thinking about it, I pushed as hard as I could, breaking through and suddenly plunging in up to the hilt, my balls smacking wetly against her ass. Her sudden cry of pain was at once horrible and beautiful. Her arms wrapped around me, her nails digging into my back, as she sought to cope with the agony. After perhaps ten or twelve seconds, her fingers relaxed, and her shuddering breath told me she was slowly coming to terms with the feeling.
"Are you okay?" I asked. Again, the nod that I could feel rather than see, then from the darkness she said, "I think so, it's fading, it's almost stopped hurting..." and as I put my face against hers, I felt her melting into the dewiest, tenderest, most satisfied smile. "Oh God, it's so good, it's so good, it's so good," Rose murmured, "OhmyGod, ohmyGod, ohmyGod, it's so good, it's so good, it's so good," finally trailing off into a series of mmms and aahs as she wrapped her arms around me and pulled her nails down my back. This was all just from me entering her and sliding all the way in; I hadn't even started to stroke yet, we had only just achieved complete union. We lay together like that for countless heartbeats, my manhood fully buried in her female embrace as we gazed wonderingly into each other's eyes, both of us struggling to come to terms with the enormity of what we had just accomplished. Slowly, I started to pull out, riding high to try to brush her clitoris as I did so, then just as slowly pushed back in again. I repeated this several times, until Rose started to match my thrusts. As we ground our hips together, she pulled my ear down to her mouth so I could hear her whispering, "Fuck me Jack, fuck me Jack, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me Jack." My hands were under her buttcheeks now, squeezing and pushing her up onto me, and she wrapped her arms up and around me as if she were holding on for dear life. When she sank her teeth into my shoulder, I felt a brief twinge of pain, then my body somehow transmuted the bite into pleasure, and as she bit in deeper, her scream muffled against my flesh, the pleasure became a wave that swept through my chest and neck. We were thrusting against each other full force now, the sounds of our bodies smacking wetly together, and I slipped my hand into the space between us and started massaging her clitoris as we pounded together. "oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh," was all Rose could manage, and then breathlessly, "Oh God, I can feel you inside me, you're in me, you're inside my body... I'm so full, oh God, oh Jesus, oh Jesus, oh, I'm so full of you... I love you Jack, I love you, fuck me fuck me fuck me, I love you I love you fuck me fuck me fuck me." I had been worried that I might only last a few seconds, scared I wouldn't be able to give Rose the full treatment; but now, as I slid in and out of her, I knew I had nothing to worry about. I sat back on my legs, my penis still buried in her vagina, and looked over at the mirror on Marjorie's dresser, where I could see the two of us reflected perfectly in the darkness. I watched myself pumping away for a little bit, then I laid back down to cover Rose with my body. Wrapping her in my arms, and taking care to make sure my penis stayed inside her, I rolled over on my back, and now Rose was on top and bouncing up and down on me. I pointed to the mirror, and Rose found the sight fascinating; she couldn't take her eyes off the reflection as she continued to pound away, her clitoris riding the ridges of the condom up and down, up and down, up and down... "Oh God, yes, it's so good, it's so good, I'm fucking you Jack, I'm fucking you, I can feel your cock deep inside me, oh Jack, don't let this end, I want to feel this way forever and ever, I love you, Jack, oh God, you're my man, you're my cock, you're my man, you're my cock, oh fuck me, fuck me, fuck me...Wrapping my hands around her waist, I found that her gorgeous little breasts were right in front of my face, and with no effort at all, I was able to put first one nipple, then the other, into my mouth, where I was able to suck and bite her rock-hard nipples while she continued to bounce on me, her hands grabbing my hair and pulling my head closer. I knew that my nerves were registering the hair pulling as pain, but by the time the impulses made it to my brain, the feeling had become pure pleasure, a tingling and pulsing that shot green darts through my skull, and I sucked her nipples as if they contained the Secret of Life. In one instant, I knew I was about to climax, I knew I was past the point of no return, and yet it felt like it was still a lifetime away. Rose suddenly arched her back, her nipple pulling away from my mouth, and she let loose a howl like a wild animal, a scream I'd never heard before. "I'm gonna cum, oh God, I can feel it," she sang, "oh God, oh God, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonnnnnaaaaaa... AOOOWWW GOD, OH OH OH OH OH OH OH!" She was halfway between singing and shrieking, and it was more than I could stand. I felt myself explode in the most overwhelming rush of feeling I've ever had, and for the first time ever, I literally saw fireworks, an insane riot of stars and pinwheels and explosions of light, and my ears were full to overflowing with a sound that I couldn't hear, a pressure on the eardrums that could only be some ancient blood surge that drowned out anything that wasn't our hearts crashing together. I was literally blind and deaf; somewhere in the consensus universe, it must have lasted for maybe ten or twelve seconds, but in the reality I was in at that moment, I think I touched eternity; I was in a timeless state where thought was not possible, and I can't even be sure I was breathing. Was this it, I wondered, when the capacity for rational thought eventually returned, was this the Little Death? It had never been like this with Lilly, never even close. I had thought I knew what ecstasy was, but now I knew I didn't know anything.
Slowly, slowly, the room came back into being around me, and I became aware of Rose, naked and spent, laying full out on me, still wrapped around me down there, breathing breathing breathing, her head on my chest, her fingers twitching, spasming, raking little trails through the sweat on my shoulders. She looked up into my face, drew closer, and as her lips melted into mine, her body did the same; any trace of stress or tension having vanished in the flood, leaving only a drugged relaxation that she was unable to stir from. As I gazed at her peaceful face laying there on my shoulder, I felt that I had to tell her about my experience before I lost it, but what could I say? What language could even approach it? "Rose," I started, and stopped; and again, "Rose," and she looked at me with wonder and reverence, "Rose, I don't know what happened to me just now, but I've never felt that before. Never. Even my wildest moments with Lilly... Rose, you took me to another universe, I can barely even speak right now..." I looked at her, looking at me, and I swear she was glowing, she was literally emitting light from her eyes and nose and mouth. "Rose, I want to tell you I love you, but even that feels so incomplete and inadequate... God, Rose, you're my life, you're everything I could ever even dream of wanting..." I may have been aware of her, and of the room around us after that, but I really don't remember anything else. Sometime during the night, I roused enough to become aware of the feeling of the condom being pulled off my penis, then everything faded again. The next thing I was aware of was waking up in the morning, the condom gone from my limp member and Rose's arm over my chest as she lay there sleeping; a blanket covering us up to the waist and the first, palest light of dawn beginning to show through the window.
As I stirred, Rose woke and looked over at me, blankly at first, then with the world's biggest smile gradually taking over her entire face. "Good morning, lover," she grinned, and added in a husky whisper, "you were right. Magic. Real live miracle magic, that's the only way to describe it. I think I actually passed out for a little bit, it felt so good. It still feels wonderful, I'm still feeling it from last night."
"Rose, listen, I have to tell you something," I started, and had to pause as I tried to collect my thoughts. She laid her head on my chest and gazed earnestly into my eyes, waiting rapturously on me to find the words. "What happened last night, what I felt, was like nothing I've ever felt before. Lilly never did to me what you did to me. I never had any idea it could be like that. Even though I've had sex before, in a very real way, last night was a first time for me. Rose, you took me to a place that was no place and every place at once. It's like you found a virginity in me that I didn't even know I had. You took me to another universe. I think I might have actually touched Heaven. I mean it, sweetheart, the real thing, the real, truly live, Heaven. You took me there." Her only response was to put her mouth on mine and kiss me for long, long minutes.
The shower was another small miracle. When we first got in, the purple bruise on my shoulder where she had sunk her teeth was throbbing and sending little spikes of agony through to my back, but by the time the shower was over, the only evidence I had left was the fading bruise; the pain had been seemingly rinsed away by the water and I felt fine. We spent a half hour together under the hot spray, playing and teasing, and she finished me off by dropping to her knees and stroking me until I exploded all over her face and chest, giggling uncontrollably as she caught the last drops in her mouth, then licked me clean, the water washing the rest away seconds later. It took us another hour to dry off and get dressed.
Breakfast was a trip to Walt's in the Sangreal plaza, where I had a Belgian waffle with pecans and maple syrup and Rose ordered a stack of banana-chocolate chip pancakes. She tried some of my black coffee and found it horrible. I added enough sugar and creamer to make it taste like hot ice cream; she found that much more to her liking, and had a cup of her own.
The world was different. The world was changed. What more can I say? The world was changed. I felt it in the water. I felt it in the earth. I smelled it in the air. I had had love before, but now I had Love. Now I had... I had... oh God, how can I tell you? What words can I use? What can make you understand? I had Rose. I had Rose. I. Had. Rose. Can you see the tears? Can you taste the salt? Rose. Alpha and Omega. Love. Om. Rose.
25 ...feels like you're mine, feels right, so fine, I'm yours, you're mine, like paradise... Paradise (Sade)
The rest of that Saturday was a long, smooth ride through autumn perfection. Everywhere we went, everything we did, all was just one steady flow of honey and cream. We drove to the mall and moved slowly, slowly, up one side and down the other, our arms around each other's waists, blissing out on the Halloween decorations, the older kids running from one temporary novelty outlet quickly thrown up in an empty store space to the next, the younger ones running and shrieking around the bizarrely colored, plasticized mushrooms and stepping stones and climbing rocks in the fenced-off area adjacent to the food court. We walked down to Burnside & Regent to browse the magazine racks, where we considered the latest offerings in fashion, anime, cinema, science fiction, photography, journalism, alternate music, cooking, architecture, government; then drifted into the CD section of the store, ambling from one display rack to the next, pausing to don headphones and listen to samples of the music being hawked; then out to the heart of the store, to examine the volumes in every aisle, one by one: history, fantasy, comics, romance, games and puzzles, music, religion, new age, psychology, and coming to rest in the sociology section, where we spent a long time reviewing books on sexual technique and practice. Rose found a chapter on anal intercourse in one of the books and drew my attention to it. Looking up at me with those huge brown eyes, she mouthed the question, 'Lilly?' I nodded slowly and meaningfully. She touched an index finger to her chest and mouthed, 'Me?' I placed my hand on the side of her face and kissed her on the forehead while I considered my answer, then bent my mouth to her ear and whispered, "If that is what you want, my love, then you shall have it." A strange, slow smile crossed her lips, and she visibly shivered in anticipation at the thought.
After pausing at the B&R coffee shop to get a couple of cheese danishes and a single Mocha Rococo with two straws, we eased out into the magnificent golden firewine of an autumn afternoon that made it damnably difficult to doubt the existence of God(dess?)...
We didn't say much to each other the entire time. We didn't need to. We had slipped into the same groove, we were walking in each other's skin, we were riding the same wave. After we got back from the mall, without a word, we both went to the storage shed where the bikes were, mounted, and in ten minutes' time, we were at the Griffin Ridge intersection, then down to the old trail that it seemed only we knew about, and a quiet rest in the first grassy clearing we came to. There was no playing or teasing, only a long, quiet restful pause where we lay with our arms wrapped around each other, gazing at each other, at the earth below us, at the sky above us, at the universe around us. A gaze that showed our reverence toward the earth, a thankfulness toward whatever creator or first cause had put us here and allowed us to find each other.Rose leaned into me and placed her lips on mine, and we shared a single kiss into which we poured a lifetime's worth of love. It was a moment where we touched eternity again. No matter where I am in my life, or in the universe, I know that moment is an anchor, a touchstone I can grasp, a knowledge of at least one real thing, one absolute that I will never doubt, no matter what else life brings me.
As the sun made its final ride down the sky that evening, we stirred ourselves from the long grass. After a languorous stroll to the bikes, a five-minute kiss, and another fifteen minutes to slowly ride back to the apartments, we stowed the bikes in their regular site. While we were still in the storage building, but before I opened the door, Rose slipped her arms around me to bury her head in my chest and take a soul-deep smell of my skin.
"You smell sooo good," she murmured, "your smell is a man smell, it just smells like man, like strong and protecting and loving and..." she trailed off dreamily, then gave me just a brush of her lips.
"I have to..." I started, and she nodded to show that yes, of course, she knew. At the question in her eyes, I said "Fifteen minutes." As a very tiny frown crossed her face, I had to chuckle and amend it to, "Okay, ten minutes." A quick peck was my reward, and then she opened the door and slipped out into the common area, to go skipping lightly across the open space toward her apartment. I made like Charlie Hustle and rounded up all the used towels at the pool, threw them in the washing machine (knowing full well I'd have to wash them again in the morning because I wouldn't be back tonight to throw them in the dryer before they started to mildew), checked the levels in the pool, did a quick run-through of the kitchen and rec areas, made sure both bathrooms had toilet paper, and stopped off at the locker room for a quick shot of mouthwash and a quick slap of Old Spice, ducked into my room to shove a fistful of condoms in my pocket, and sauntered over to Rose's apartment.
She had shut and locked the door! The little tease. I knocked gently, and it was about thirty seconds before Rose answered. She opened the door a crack, and I could look in to see she was wearing her bathrobe, with a towel across her shoulders. She had smeared a breathtaking purple across her eyelids and her lips were burgundy blasphemy; her hair hung down over her face, a curtain through which her eyes sparkled and teased.
"Yes," she answered coyly, putting her forefinger on her bottom lip and gazing up at me in her best Betty Boop fashion, "what would you like, sir?"
"Well, miss, I happen to know you've nobody in that apartment with you at the moment. If you're feeling in the least bit needy for some protection, or some company, or anything your heart desires, you just let me know. I'm the guy to make it happen."
"Well now, that sounds like an offer I can't refuse," she husked, suddenly Marilyn and hungry, and she opened the door wide, still standing in my way so that I had to walk right into her to come into the apartment. As she opened her arms to wrap them around me, her robe parted to show me her creamy flesh. She pushed the door shut behind me, and as I scooped her up into my arms so I could better enjoy her bared beauty, she hung her head back and placed her entire being in my hands.
"What's your pleasure, miss? Shall I rub some oil into your skin, or perhaps a leg rub? Scalp massage? Anything you want, you have but to name it, for I am your fool."
She chewed her lower lip for a second as she considered her answer, then laid her head against my shoulder and said, "I would like a hot bath, slave. Draw me one, scented with lavender and jasmine, if you please." And she slapped me! Not a hard slap, almost but not quite gentle, enough to leave a warm sting that lasted a few seconds. I growled deep in my chest, and she squirmed in my arms at the feel of my growl against her cheek. I deposited her on the couch, took another long look at her beautiful breasts peeking out from the open space in her robe as she lay there, then made my way to the bathroom and started filling the tub. The scent was easy enough to find; a bottle of oil labeled "Audrey's Lavender Love" and a jar of crystals reading "Jazz Mine" were sitting next to the sink, and I sprinkled a generous amount of each under the faucet. Waiting for the tub to fill, I stepped out into the hall and slipped off my shoes and socks. As the shag carpet curled around my toes like an invitation to relax, the phone rang. I stepped into the kitchen to answer it, but Rose beat me to it on the living room phone.
"Hello," I heard her say, then, "Oh, hi mom! Yeah, everything's fine here. No. No, we had breakfast at Walt's. No, nothing special, we just schlepped around all day, wasted time, you know, just junk." As I stuck my head around the corner to look at her, Rose smiled up at me and shrugged out of the robe, then lay down and slung a leg up over the back of the couch so I could get a full view of her bared vagina. I stuck my tongue out and panted like a dog, and she smiled and winked at me. "No, he's not here right now, he had to go take care of some stuff at the pool or something. Yes. Yes. Yes, I KNOW. Yes, I KNOW, mom. Yes, mom, he'll be here soon. No, we're just gonna stay in and watch the boob tube or something," and she grinned a devil's grin as she said this, caressing her breast, pinching her nipple and licking her lips. "I dunno, maybe order a pizza or something. No, mom, I KNOW he's not made of money. C'mon mom, that stroganoff's a week old, you shoulda tossed it out. Okay, okay, three days old. NO, mom, I DON'T mind strokin' off," and she looked me right in the eye as she rubbed her vagina with her free hand. Holy God. My heart began racing like a Formula One engine at this little display, and the look on her face told me she knew it. "No mom, you don't have to call later, he'll be here. No mom, it's oka... NO, mom, its... hang on a minute, I think he's just now coming in." She hooked a finger at me, and with some small difficulty (owing to my raging erection), I walked over to the couch and took the handset as she offered it to me.
"Hello Brent," Marjorie said in response to my hello, "she's not giving you any trouble, is she?" After I assured Marjorie that everything was fine, I asked how she was doing, to learn she had spent the day sightseeing; visiting the Coca-Cola museum, the Atlanta Underground, the Westin Peachtree. I told her to relax, that Rose was being a perfect angel (as I said this, Rose placed a foot on my thigh and wiggled her toes against my hardness, giggling softly), that we were just now settling in for the night, and that she should relax and enjoy, she certainly deserved it. After handing the phone back to Rose, I went back to check on the tub and found it had filled nicely; the scented oil and crystals left a subtle aura in the room, and I dialed down the dimmer switch for the light to about 20 percent of full, then selected a huge mint green towel from the linen closet and laid it on the sink. Before I could exit, a naked Rose sashayed in and took a quick glance at the tub.
"Thank you, slave, that will do nicely," she purred, her hand running up the back of my thigh and cupping my butt for a gentle squeeze, "now get in with me so you can please me."
"Your wish is my command, mistress," I said with my head bowed, and I shed my clothes in less time that it takes to tell. I held her hand as she stepped into the tub and sat down, then climbed in myself. The water level rose dangerously, and a tiny wavelet slopped over the edge onto the floor.
"That won't do," she pouted, "we might have to move around a bit. Be a good boy and let some water out, will you?" I eased the stopper open and let the water drain until it was a few inches below the top of the tub. While I was doing that, she was gently teasing my balls with the toes of one foot, the other foot draped over my shoulder. I kissed and licked the calf that was by my face, slowly reaching into the space between her legs and drawing a finger between her labia, ticking and teasing, making her squirm and coo with delight. We didn't get much beyond that, and no real washing happened; it was more therapeutic than anything else, simply stroking and playing, with no real urgency, a lover's bath. When the water had cooled enough and our fingers and toes were wrinkling nicely, I stood and reached for the towel, then helped her up and out. The towel was large enough that I was able to wrap it around both of us, and she snuggled in close and straddled my erection while exploring my ass with her probing fingers.
"Are you hungry?" she asked. "Cause I'm not. Not really. Not for food, anyway," and without any warning, she slipped a lavender-softened finger into my asshole, up to the second knuckle, and wriggled it deliciously for a few seconds. I had never had that sensation before, and my sharp intake of breath told Rose she had succeeded in giving me yet another first. She gazed up at me with a fierce hunger and whispered, "We can do this tonight, yes? I mean, you're gonna... gonna fuck me... in the ass... aren't you?"
"Rose," I scolded, "you should know better than to ask. I can't refuse you anything, you know that." She sighed deeply and pulled her finger out of my ass, then slapped me again, just a shade harder than she had the first time. "If you don't stop doing that," I warned, "I might start to enjoy it." She made a soft shriek of delight and wrapped her fingers around my scrotum, then gently, gently, so as not to hurt me, but firmly, firmly, to let me know she was in charge, pulled me by the balls, out of the bathroom and down the hall to Marjorie's bedroom.She turned on the bedside lamp to create a warm glow, then sat on the bed and, using my balls as a steering mechanism, placed me directly in front of her, my erection just level with her throat, and she bent down to swirl her tongue around the head. Suddenly, she pulled back and looked up at me.
"Can we have some more wine," she pleaded, "please? It'll relax me, and help me when you..." she paused a second, clearly excited at what she was saying, "when you put your cock up my asshole." I could only nod in agreement, and I went to the kitchen and got the remaining rosé and a couple of glasses. When I got back to the bedroom, an irresistible tease of Navy crawled into my awareness, curled around several times, and settled down for a long nap in a corner of my subconscious where it could make its influence felt without being noticed; Rose had applied the perfume to her neck and, as I was soon to discover, to the small of her back, just above her asscheeks. I filled each glass and handed her one, then sat beside her and took a drink from mine.
"Tell me about when you did it to Lilly," she said, "what did you do? Did you have to prepare or do anything special, or did you just put it in?"
"Well, even though Lilly had done it a lot before she met me, and she was really used to it, she still needed me to take it very slowly whenever we started doing it. We had to use lubricant, because a rectum can't get wet and slippery like a vagina can. Even when she was totally lubed up, it probably took more than five minutes for me to work my way all the way in. I couldn't go any faster than that without hurting her, and even then, she said it still hurt a little bit. But once I was all the way in, she was able to really relax into it, I guess because her asshole was able to stretch to fit, and once it did, she had me just start pounding away really hard, I mean, really slamming it in, and she said it felt fantastic."
"Mmmmmmm..." Rose murmured. "I'm a little scared, but I think I'm more excited than scared." Her nipples were sticking straight out from her breasts, and as I pinched and rolled them, her breath came in harsh little gasps of delight.
"Do you have any petroleum jelly we can use to make it slick?" I asked, and Rose nodded, then went to the bathroom to fetch it. I called after her to bring my pants back from the bathroom. When she handed them to me, I retrieved a condom from the pocket and was about to open it; Rose stopped me with a hand on my arm. My questioning look brought a deep sigh from her.
"If I can't get pregnant from taking it in the ass, then I'd like to feel you, I mean, really FEEL you, inside me. Your flesh, that is, without a condom. Is that okay?" I could only smile in acceptance.
"If that's what you want, angel," I told her. She nodded eagerly, and a warm glow filled my chest as we each downed our wine. Rose refilled the glasses, and we toasted each other, then linked our arms to toss down our drinks at a single draught. There was only enough wine left in the bottle now for one more glass each, and I said nothing as Rose poured. Again we linked arms, and after finishing, set our glasses on the dresser.
"Whooa," Rose breathed, "wow, I'm a little dizzy. And fizzy. And fuzzy." Her eyes came to rest on my stiffness. "And horny." She took a handful of my balls and massaged them tenderly, kneading and stroking. She bent to take me in her mouth, her incredible, warm, wet, talented mouth, and I laid back and let her work her magic. As she sucked, she moved around into a 69 position, straddling my face, and I was staring up into her two openings. I licked her vagina for a bit, feeling her wetness flow down over my nose and chin, then worked my way up to her rectum. As I stuck my tongue in, Rose continued to suck, but she was making little mewling noises in the back of her throat each time I penetrated her. I fingered her vagina, soaking my digits in her juice, reaching inside and stroking, then slipped my middle finger into her rectum; it slid easily in, all the way to the base, and Rose stopped sucking to let loose a little cry. I asked if she was okay, and she said, "God, yesssss, that feels so weird but it feels so good, too." I pulled out, then locked my pussy-slicked index and middle fingers together and slid those in. Rose gasped and squirmed, then said, "God! Damn! God damn! OhmyGod, that feels so damn weird! Oh Jack, stroke it, please, stroke my asshole!" I obliged by finger-fucking her ass, then quickly tried to add my ring finger for a three-finger penetration. I managed to do it, but it was so tight, so very tight, and Rose started to hyperventilate. "Ow, Jack, that hurts, it hurts, but it's good, it's a hurt that feels good, I can't describe it. No, don't stop, don't stop hurting me good like that!" I stroked for a little longer while Rose kept bobbing up and down on my cock, grunting and groaning. After a few more minutes, I pulled my fingers out and asked if she was ready.
"Yes, yes, God, yes, I'm ready for it Jack, I'm ready, please do it, do it now, I'm so horny, fuck my ass, lover, fuck me hard in my ass!"
Hearing my precious little Rose talk like this made me so hard it hurt. I could have punched through a concrete wall with it and never noticed. I pulled Rose off me, then reached over to take the petroleum jelly off the nightstand. I smeared a glob of it all up and down my member, then rubbed another glob into her sphincter. She scrambled to her hands and knees, facing the mirror on the dresser so she could see herself as I entered. I positioned myself behind her and gripped her hips, then rubbed the head of my cock slowly up and down her crack, letting the head catch on her rectum several times before stopping there.
"Are you ready, angel?" I asked. Rose bit her lip and looked back at me, nodded briefly, then turned back to look at her reflection. I pushed gently, and for a moment, nothing happened. I stroked her back, telling her to try to relax. I pushed a little harder, and the head of my cock began to push her open. I kept going until half the head was in, then pulled out. I repeated this several times, each time making my way just a tiny bit further. On the last push, I got the entire head in, then stopped to ask Rose if she was okay.
"Yes, I'm okay," she said, "it feels SO weird, it kinda hurts, can you just stop there for a second?" I assured her we had all the time in the world, and I continued to kneel there, not moving, letting her adjust to the sensation. When she nodded, I pushed in a tiny fraction more, then another tiny fraction, then another, pausing each time in case she wanted to tell me to stop. After the fifth push like that, she suddenly cried out, "Stop, Jack, stop, it hurts, it hurts, no, no, don't take it out, don't take it out, just stop, but leave it there for a minute, okay?" I did precisely as she asked, and as we bided our time, I was stroking her thighs, massaging her waist, touching her back, giving her every possible pleasurable distraction I could. After a minute more, she nodded. "Okay, I'm ready for some more, but slow, okay?" Looking her reflection in the eyes, I nodded, then slid in yet a little more, then a little more, then a little more... by the time I was halfway in, she was breathing heavily. "Stop, stop, it's better this time, but I still need you to stop for a minute," she panted. We waited again. This time, instead of telling me to go, she took the lead, slowly pushing herself backwards onto me, controlling the entry, and she kept pushing steadily until I was all the way in, and she stopped and dropped her head to the mattress. "God, it hurts, it hurts Jack, but it's not terrible, it's just so weird."
The feeling was unbelievable. Her tight, tight, tight hole gripped me, and as I flexed my cock inside her, she cried out. I asked if she was okay, and she nodded vigorously. "It's starting to get better, it's really starting to feel good. Pull out some and then put it back in," she directed, and again, I did as she asked. This time, I was rewarded with a long "ooooooo, ooooooo, oh God, Jack, it still feels so weird, but it feels really really nice now." She pulled herself off of me, almost all the way, then backed into me again. "Oh God, oh God, oh that's it, that's really it, Jack! I'm ready for it now, love my asshole Jack, love my asshole as hard as you can!" Gripping her firmly by the hips, I started to thrust in earnest, reaching around to put my fingers at the top of her pussy, stroking and sliding my fingers over her clitoris. She buried her face in the mattress again and said, "mmmmm, mmmmm, mmmmm, mmmmm". The friction on my shaft was almost unbearable, and I knew I was about to lose it. I didn't do anything to warn her, I just kept pumping hard, slamming into her, making her whole body vibrate, smacking my balls against her, and then the feeling got so intense I roared without realizing I was doing it, and suddenly I was shooting into her, pumping my semen at a hundred miles an hour, and she screamed, "OH YES, FUCK YES, FUCK YES, FUCK YES, don't stop, don't stop, keep pounding me, keep pounding, oh God that feels SO GOOD!!!" After I finished cumming, I didn't let up, just kept pounding into her, shaking her, stroking her clitoris, and then her head sprang up and down wildly, dangerously out of control as her orgasm slammed into her, and I fell onto my back, still gripping her hips, still buried in her ass. She was gasping, we were both covered in sweat, and she rolled off of me to lay her head on my arm, her face buried in my armpit.
"Mmmmm, aaahhhh, oh Jack, that was too much, it was fan-freaking-tastic! Anal sex is SOOO good, I wish you could feel how good it is, I wish I could do it to you.We lay quietly for a while, just relaxing in the glow; but I was waging a fierce internal dialogue, trying to come to terms with her wish, wondering what it would mean for me if I gave in. In the end, it was my love for her, my desire to grant her every wish, that won out.
"Sweetheart," I started, stroking her hair, and she kissed me just below the armpit before looking up. "Angel, what would you say if I told you there was a way you could do it to me?" She just looked blankly up at me, not understanding. I took a shuddering breath to gather my courage, then told her, "There's a device called a strap-on, that you can wear, that's like a stiff penis attached to a harness that straps around your waist. If we got you one of those, you could have your wish, you could perform anal sex on me."
No matter what else I may have thought or felt, the wonder and hope in her face at that moment made it all worthwhile. She was absolutely radiant at the thought of being able to pleasure me the way I had pleasured her.
"Oh, Jack, you'd really let me do that to you? For real?"
"Yes, my love," I sighed, "for real."
The afterglow we were feeling induced a euphoric drowsiness, and for the second time in two days, as I fell asleep with my contacts still in my eyes, I knew that in future, I'd have to make a habit of taking them out before we started any sexplay.
Rose must have turned the lamp off after I fell asleep. It was still dark when I woke. Rubbing my eyes to try to loosen up my contact lenses, I was able to make out the clock on Marjorie's nightstand; blurry, but I could see the time was 2:17 AM. As I floated further up toward the waking world, I became aware of Rose beside me; she was awake, covered up to her chest with the blanket, arms behind her head as she lay gazing up at the ceiling.
"What's wrong, love?" I asked. She turned to look at me in the darkness, and I felt the back of her hand gently stroking my cheek, then turning over to cup my face in her palm.
"Jack, I know you love me, I know you do. But sometimes I wonder if you ever feel guilty about it. About us, I mean, about us making love. I mean, you said you knew you loved me for a long time before we first made love. I think I understand your reasons for not telling me, for not starting something earlier. It's 'cause you were scared, right? I mean, scared of the age difference, and scared that somebody might find out and then you'd have to go to jail, right?"
"That's part of it," I admitted, not really wanting to have this conversation, but recognizing that it was important, that it was bothering her, and that I needed to let her explore the subject. "But another part of it is because I was confused about how I felt. Not only because the world at large keeps telling me how wrong it is to want to have sex with someone so young, but also because you were so much more than my friend. I was confused because I felt so protective of you, protective and maybe a little possessive. I guess I felt toward you the way I might feel toward my daughter, if I had one. I felt like a father, or how I suppose a father is supposed to feel. I just wanted to shelter you, to keep you safe. A father is supposed to protect his daughter from all the bad things in the world, even those bad things that are in the father's heart. I knew I never wanted to hurt you, and I just couldn't shake the feeling that making love to you would be a bad thing, because it meant I would be taking advantage of you, it meant that I would be using you for my own pleasure before you were old enough to understand exactly what that meant."
"But you don't feel that way now, do you, Jack?" her anxious voice floated out of the darkness. "You know I'm old enough now to make that choice for myself, don't you?"
"Rose, my beloved, yes, I do trust you. You're smart enough to know what's best for you, and you're smart enough to know what's best for me, too. When it comes to us, I trust your instincts completely. It's the world around us that I don't trust. I don't think any amount of argument or reason would sway the police or the courts." Rose's hand slipped from my face down to my chest. She began to stroke and play with my nipples, and I was mildly surprised to discover how delicious this felt, how arousing and relaxing it was. "And as worried as I am about them, about the police, I mean, I'm even more afraid of Marjorie finding out. She trusts me completely, trusts me to take care of you, to treat you right."
"But you DO take care of me, Jack, you take such wonderful care of me!"
I couldn't help but give a mournful laugh at that. "She might agree with you, love, as far as that goes, but I don't think her definition would stretch to include a romantic, physical, sexual relationship. And even if it did, even if the law would allow us to be together, and Marjorie would somehow understand, I'd still be afraid of the implications. Well, not afraid, really, more like weirded out."
"Weirded out? What do you mean?"
"Well, think about it, sweetheart. Do you love me enough to marry me?"
"Of course I do, Jack, you know I do. I've spent whole days just dreaming about being married to you."
"Well, I have too. I've thought a lot about it. So, say we did get married. That would make Marjorie my mother-in-law. She's 38, isn't she?" I laid my hand on the side of Rose's face, and felt her nodding slowly. "My mother-in-law would be younger than me. I'm still struggling to wrap my head around that one, babe." I let my hand wander down to her neck and shoulders, lazily rubbing and stroking, and together, we turned on our sides to face each other so we could stroke and play a little easier. "The alternative to marrying you is someplace that I don't think I could go. I mean, I've thought about marrying your mom so I could always be close to you, but what kind of a lie would that be? Plus then, I'd be your father for real, and that means that every time I touched you in a romantic way, it might feel like incest."
Rose was quiet for a long time after this, just slowly rubbing my chest and neck, absently stroking my face. Then, "You've thought about marrying me? For real?"
"Yes, I have. I've looked as far into the future as I can, and I just can't see myself being without you. It's selfish of me to feel that way, selfishness on a level I never dreamed I would be capable of, but there it is."
"Selfish? What do you mean? If we make each other happy, then how..."
"Think about our ages, love. When you're 18, I'll be 45. When you're 23, I'll be 50. And worst of all, when you're 33, when you won't have even started middle age yet, I'll be 60. There's so much in life for you to discover, for you to know about, and I'm just scared I'll be an anchor, a weight that you won't be able to shake."
"Jack, stop, don't talk like that. You've given me so much, it makes my heart blow up like a balloon, like I can't contain all the wonderful things I get from you. You've taught me so much, Jack, SO much, about music and movies and philosophy, about my body and yours, about love, yes Jack, especially love. You taught me what it means to love so completely. And don't even get me started on orgasms. Remember when you told me that orgasms are one sure way we know how much God loves us? And you were there for me, to make sure my orgasm is everything it's supposed to be. When life gets hard, you're always there for me. Always. You saved me, you pulled me out of the lonely Hell I was in and showed me a whole world I never knew existed. I'm in over my head, Jack, and that's a wonderful thing, because I have you there to keep me from drowning."
Now it was my turn to be quiet for a long time. Eventually, I told her, "You've taught me as much as I've taught you. Maybe more. You freed my frozen heart. You're the woman who looked at me and saw me as I really am and said, yes, this will do." I reached over and kissed her, a long slow joining of the lips that let us share each other's breath, and I marveled anew at the miracle of how this wonderful young beauty was mine, and of how much she wanted me.
At length, we pulled apart. Rose draped her arm over me, pulled me close, and whispered, "I have two things to tell you. First is, I love you forever and ever. And second is, Jack, it's kinda starting to smell bad in here." This total non sequitur took me so completely by surprise that I started giggling, rapidly running up through complete hilarity, to be joined by Rose, who hugged me tight to her so we could feel each other's laughter.
"You know what we should do?" I asked after I had recovered enough of my breath to speak, "we should strip the sheets off the bed and wash them, and while we're waiting for that, we should go for a naked swim." Rose's sudden intake of breath told me how much she liked that idea.
"Really? You don't think we'd get caught?" she queried. "Cause that sounds like a great idea."
"Totally," I told her, "it's the dead of the night, absolutely nobody will be around."
We got up and dressed, and I pulled the sheets off while Rose appropriated the pillowcases. Carrying our bundles, we slipped out into the cool evening and quietly made our way to the clubhouse. Rose followed me into the laundry room, and we stuffed everything into the biggest washer and started it. I took her by the hand and led her into the men's locker room, into the shower area, and in utter darkness and hot spray, we soaped each other's bodies and got ourselves all cleaned up. Then we made our way out to the chlorine-smelling pool area, where I had left the underwater floods turned off.The only light came from the moon and stars above; it was dark enough that we could barely make out each other's silhouettes as we slipped our clothes off, then slipped into the warm water. We splashed around, slowly moving here and there in the shallow end, but we came together every few minutes for some tender stroking, and every other time we did so, I slipped my hardness into her, taking care not to stroke or thrust, to ensure that I didn't accidentally let loose a load inside her.
By the time we finished and pulled our clothes on, it was almost 4 AM. I put the bedding in one of the dryers, and we settled down in the common room, in front of the TV, to watch a Mexican vampire movie that turned out to be a great sleeping aid.
It was after 8 AM when I woke to find morning sunshine lighting up the room and Rose curled up with my arm around her, snoring softly and chuckling gently in her sleep every now and then. She woke when I got up to use the bathroom, and after she went also, we retrieved the bedding and took it back to her apartment. While I made the bed, Rose scrambled some eggs and tossed some precooked bacon in the microwave. It was a simple breakfast, but one of the best meals I'd had in a long time.
After breakfast, Rose announced she wanted to stay in bed all day, making love while listening to music. When she showed me the mix tapes she had created for this purpose, I realized she had been thinking about it for some time. Another first from her, another thing I had never done before. Iris and I had made love while the radio played, but that was just random music, nothing chosen especially for lovemaking; and when I did it with Lilly, it never occurred to me that we should play music. Rose, on the other hand, had put quite a bit of thought into it. She had dug through my collection of CDs and tapes, pointing out with vast amusement that more than half of her selections came from tapes I had labeled as "guilty pleasures". There was Donna Summer, Earth Wind and Fire, Herb Alpert, Gary Wright, Nat King Cole, whole albums by Sade, and I don't remember how many more. She had done a masterful job, and if the day before had been beautiful, then that day (that I will forever think of as Sunday In Bed) was nothing short of exquisite. We used up all the condoms, and by the time I had my fifth orgasm (and Rose, probably her twentieth), evening shadows were filling the room, and we were both starving.
"Oh my God," I muttered when I looked at the clock, "it's after 7 PM. Rose, do you realize we've been at this for the entire day?" She smiled dreamily and nodded.
"I know," she said, "wasn't it perfect?" I had to agree.
The rest of the evening slipped by before we knew it. We ordered a pizza with double pepperoni and double cheese, and before it was delivered, Marjorie had checked in with us from the hotel, to make sure we hadn't forgotten the next day was a school day and to remind us that Rose shouldn't stay up too late. Grateful for the reminder, Rose and I got her books and schoolwork gathered together, bundled up, and ready to go on the kitchen table. We snuggled together on the couch, eating pizza and watching the Errol Flynn "Adventures of Robin Hood" on TV. Dessert was a bowl of vanilla ice cream with chocolate sauce that we shared, feeding each other, smearing each other's faces with the sticky stuff and laughing at our own idiocy. By the time we were done, it was almost 10 PM. While Rose set the alarm for 6:30 AM, I stripped the sex-soaked sheets from the mattress and made the bed fresh with a spare set from the linen closet. Naked, we crawled in and doused the light, and with our arms around each other and our hearts pressed together, we were soon dead to the world.
27 ...No, I would not give you false hope on this strange and mournful day... Mother And Child Reunion (Paul Simon)
Monday and Tuesday slipped by way too fast. I drove Rose to school each morning and picked her up each afternoon. In between, while tending to things around the complex, I had plenty of time to relive our encounters of the weekend. Marjorie's absence had been a mixed blessing. On the one hand, having unlimited access to Rose had given me the most beautiful few days of my life; time that I wouldn't have traded for anything, and would have fought like grim death to hold onto. On the other hand, I knew I wanted (needed?) to have that time and that space with Rose on an ongoing basis. I had to find a way to make it work, had to find a way for us to be together the same way we had during Marjorie's absence. Exactly how I was going to make that happen was, at present, beyond me, and that lack was torturing me.
Wednesday morning, as I pulled up in front of the school, Rose turned to me with a wistful look.
"Mom's coming home tonight, and I don't know how to feel about that," she said sadly. "I love her, and I'm glad she'll be back, but I don't know if I can go back to sleeping alone. Having you in bed next to me, all night long, is the safest, happiest, most delicious thing I can think of. Well," and her sad look briefly gave way to one of her impish grins, "maybe the second most," and she caressed the inside of my thigh. Then, "It's going to be harder than Hell to give that up."
"I know exactly how you feel, love," I agreed, "because I feel the same way. What are we going to do about it?"
"I don't know, Jack, I just don't know. Damn it, I don't KNOW!"
"Well, let's just play it by ear for now. Maybe the universe will present something, or maybe we'll see an opportunity somewhere. Or maybe this is a test, to see if we can survive."
"I don't want a test! I want you!" she snuffled, throwing her arms around me and squeezing tight, as if she were sensing me slipping away.
"Hey, hey, none of that, now. I'm not going anywhere, Rose. We'll get by, you'll see. People adapt. We're no different. The only thing you need to keep in mind is that I love you more than life itself, and the rest will flow from that."
She wiped her eyes and managed a weak smile. "You always know what to say. I think I'll be able to get through the day, at least, if I just hang onto that thought." She gave me a soulful kiss, and as she exited the car and walked up the steps and into the school, I felt my heart threatening to tear itself loose from my chest and follow her in.
Dinner that evening was a low-key, subdued affair. We cobbled together a meal from leftovers and ate mostly in silence. Marjorie's flight was scheduled to arrive at 9:35 that evening, and the knowledge hung over us like an angel with a flaming sword, barring our way back into the garden. We tried to watch TV, but it was no use. Finally, at 7:00, Rose and I turned to each other and, without a word spoken, we got up and drove to the airport to wait. As we sat there in the lounge, sipping cappuccinos and watching CNN on the wall TV, we held each other's hand and drew some comfort from that simple act. Time seemed to fold up on us like a telescope, and before we were ready, Marjorie's flight had arrived. At the sight of her mother walking up the ramp with a beatific smile on her face, Rose's mood visibly lightened, and they rushed into each other's arms for a timeless embrace that made me start to tear up myself. Marjorie looked up at me, and before I knew what was happening, I found myself included in their embrace, the three of us with our arms around each other. Marjorie smelled so good, and she clung so tight, and Rose did too, that I hardly knew where I was or what I was doing.
After we reclaimed the luggage, we made our way to the car; Rose and Marjorie holding hands and me following along, carrying the bags and trying to feel happy for them. After I loaded the suitcases in the trunk, I turned to hand the keys to Marjorie, but she just smiled and pressed them back into my hand, telling me I might as well finish out the day. Rose climbed into the front and sat in the middle so she could be between the two of us, and on the drive home, Marjorie recounted some of her experiences in the class and what it was like to be a tourist in Atlanta. All too soon, we were home, and after I carried the bags up to the apartment and deposited them in the living room, Marjorie dug through her suitcase to produce some gifts. For me she had brought back an Atlanta Braves koozie and a bottle of peach schnapps, and Rose was gifted with a stuffed plush peach and a snow globe containing a miniature Atlanta skyline that showered tiny peaches (instead of snowflakes). For herself, she had only a glass in the cylindrical shape of the Westin Peachtree, a keepsake of the rum and coke she had ordered during her visit to the Sun Dial restaurant on the top of the Westin.
It was close to 11:00 by this time, and as I turned to leave, Marjorie reached out and pulled me into a bear hug. "Thank you, thank you, Brent," she whispered, "I knew I could count on you to be there for us. I hope someday I can repay you for all you've done."
"Don't, Marjorie, don't," I whispered back, "it was no sacrifice, staying with Rose was like a dream. It was nothing but pleasure, please believe me."
She pulled back and gazed at me with a strange expression, and my heart suddenly pounded as if it were trying to warn me of something; but all she said was, "I must have done something right, to have you in our lives. Thank you, Brent, just... just... thank you," and she was starting to mist up. I dared to give her a kiss on the cheek as I was leaving, and then I was out the door, Rose at my side as she walked me back to my room, her hand squeezing mine as if to say, 'I know you're still here, but it feels like I'm losing you anyway'.Behind the safety of my locked door, we exchanged a long, sensual kiss, and as she left, I whispered to her, "I'll see you in a little bit, sweetheart, as soon as I fall asleep and start dreaming," and she smiled a brave smile and whispered back, "Me too. Good night, Jack, I love you."
28 ...we all need someone we can cream on, and if you want to, you can cream on me... Let It Bleed (The Rolling Stones)
Somehow, we managed to recapture our rhythms. With Marjorie back and Rose returned to her role as a kid in school, our old patterns were a comfort, a source of familiarity that eased us up out of the valley of despair. We were back to our nightly routines and once-a-week dinners at their apartment. The coolness of approaching autumn was pushed back for a bit as Indian summer graced us with a last gift of heavy warmth. The days pushed, amazingly, to 85 degrees, and the nights were beyond mild, approaching sultry. It was almost as if Mother Nature wanted to let us know that even though the long dark of winter was ahead, She was still watching over us, caring for us and wanting us to experience joy.
The meet and greet for November was a little livelier than usual. Four new tenants showed up, and Marjorie was right in the thick of it when she learned one of them had been raised in Buckhead, an upscale Atlanta neighborhood that had been her favorite part of the city. I don't know whether it was that chance meeting, or simply a little extra enthusiasm on her part, but Marjorie knocked back a couple more drinks than was her usual wont that evening. She wasn't slobbering drunk, but she seemed to need a little help with simple tasks like sitting. As the evening drew to a close, I found myself sitting at the folding table that had held pizza and chips, but now hosted only empty pizza boxes and chip bags, with Marjorie sitting next to me, sucking back the last of her most recent drink. She was rubbing her eyes, as if they bothered her, or as if she was trying to get something out of them that she didn't want there; tears, maybe, or unwanted memories. The room had emptied now, everyone having gone back to their apartments, and Marjorie swayed into me, then straightened herself out and set her glass down. In the back of my head, I was aware of the sound of Rose playing Donkey Kong, but in the front, all I could see was how impaired her mother was.
"I want to tell you something," Marjorie said in the most heavily slurred voice I'd heard from her yet. As her right hand slipped out of sight, her left hand collapsed onto the table and knocked over her glass. Since she had already drained it, the only damage was a couple of ice cubes skittering across the checkered tablecloth and bouncing away on the floor. With her right hand on my thigh, she squeezed earnestly, and I knew there was nothing overtly sexual in it, she was just trying to make sure she had my undivided attention and was using the most direct way she could think of at the moment to get it. I left the hand in place and waited her out. The pause drew out a few more seconds, then a few more, while Marjorie tried to marshal her thoughts. When she recollected herself, she started over, "I want to tell you something," along with a repeat of the thigh squeeze. "The reason I walked out on Stan was because my boss was moving in on me, he was always all over me, like, whenever we were alone, he just, he just looked so good, and he smelled so good, and he was so confident, like the world owed him, not the other way around, you know? Not like Stan at all, Stan was so damn laid-back, just laid-back and let people walk all over him. Let them..." she paused as the words choked in her throat. "Let me. Let me walk all over him. Let me treat him like garbage." The tears were on their way, I could see that from a mile off. Still she squeezed and massaged my thigh, and somewhere between her hand and her heart, it must have been transmuted into Stan's thigh for her, because she just kept kneading and massaging as if she were trying to love away some ancient injury that had never been tended properly. "Let me cheat on him, and he never stood up for himself, never got mad about me cheating with my boss, just kept trying to talk it out, talk it away. And when I made him stop touching me, he never quit trying, no matter how mad I got, he just kept trying and trying to hold me in his arms." The tears were coming in earnest now, one after another, rolling down and off her face to make tiny splatters on the tablecloth. "And, and I wouldn't let him hold me, I told him I had a real man now, I didn't need him, and I made him go. I made him pack his bags and get out. And after Stan was gone, and I was ready to move in with my boss, he dumped me. The son of a bitch just dumped me on my ass. I made excuses, I told myself it was my fault, I scared him because I had Rose, but inside, I knew the real reason, only I couldn't admit it to myself. The bastard just didn't care. He had better ass to chase, I guess." Both hands were on my thigh now, rolling and moving through the flesh that I knew for her could only be Stan's. "And, and I was too scared, and angry, and ashamed of what I'd done to Stan. I couldn't go back to him, not after what I'd done, not after what I told him, I couldn't face him. I was still confused, I didn't think I needed him. So I ran, trying to get away from what I'd done. And I was doing the same damn thing all over again, not thinking it through, just pulling poor little Rose with me through my own private hell." Marjorie leaned into me, laying her head on my shoulder, and still she kept massaging. My leg was starting to feel pretty loose, and I wondered if it would be possible to move her hands to the other leg without breaking the mood or her frame of mind. "Stan, I'm, I'm sorry, I'm so, so, so sorry, oh God, Stan, why did, why did you have to go and d-d-d-die before I could tell you? Dammit, Stan, come back! Please come back, I promise I'll be good, I swear, only please don't go!" She was wracked with heaving sobs now, borne away on a tidal flow of guilt. Her need was so great I couldn't ignore it. As I wrapped my arms around her and laid a hand on her hair, I looked up to see Rose standing silently in the doorway, gazing at the pair of us with her head tilted to one side and tears standing in her huge eyes. Marjorie heaved several more great shuddering convulsions before coming to herself and looking up into my eyes. Slowly, she released my thigh as she focused on my face and seemed to come to recognition of where she was and what she was doing.
"Brent? Brent, I'm sorry to lay all this on you," she rubbed at her eyes to dry them. "You've been so good for my Rose. Before we came here, I was getting scared of what all our moving was doing to her. It was like watching her die a little bit more every day. Until she found you. You've been her anchor, you've been the only good thing in her life for a long time." Marjorie took a glance at my arms around her, then responded by wrapping her arms around me and hugging tight. "Which makes you the only good thing in my life, too, because without Rose I've got nothing. I've done too many wrong things, I've fucked up too many times. I need help, Brent, I can't do it myself, I can't fix anything, all I know how to do is fuck things up. So here I am, if you want me, you can have me, I still got a few good fucks in me, I'll suck on it every day, I promise, only please say you'll stay with us. We need you." She leaned in close and started to kiss my neck while rubbing my chest; but that only lasted for a handful of seconds, before the tears started falling again. "Oh God, please love me, please love me Brent, you can love me like the way you love Rose, can't you?" I felt my heart skip several handfuls of beats at one shot; my face suddenly felt like ice. I looked around to see Rose's reaction, but she was gone. Nobody else was around. As gently as I could, I scooped Marjorie up in my arms and carried her out of the shadow-haunted clubhouse, into the surprisingly warm Indian Summer night, across the courtyard and up the stairs of her building. The door to her apartment was standing open; inside, Rose was sitting on the floor in the corner with her legs tucked up underneath; her face was dry, but it was obvious she'd been crying hard. I laid Marjorie gently on the couch, and before I could wonder what to do next, I heard her snoring softly.
"She's out for the night," Rose said quietly from beside me; I hadn't even seen her stand up or walk over. A second later the front door clicked shut, completing the arc Rose had started when she pushed it. "She won't wake up until morning." Taking my hand, she led me to Marjorie's bedroom, sat on the unmade bed, and patted the mattress next to her. I sat down beside her. In the dark bedroom, I could just barely make out her silhouette. She took my hand and placed it on the side of her face, kissing the palm briefly. "Jack, do you want to... to make love to my mom?"
I was startled and scared, touched and saddened, all at once. "No, angel, I really don't. You're all I need, you're the only woman I want. Cross my heart," and I crossed my heart as I said it.
"Jack, I love you so much, I don't want to share you, but I have to think about my mom, too. She's so alone, in a really serious way, she's as alone as we were before we found each other. Jack, do you think you could...? I mean, would you be willing to... Jack, would you have sex with my mom? Please? For her? I think she needs it so bad, she's hurting so much, I want her to have this, I really do."
"Rose, I can't. I don't want to do anything that will make you wonder about me, or worry about whether I love you. If I have sex with your mom, you'll always wonder what it meant to me, you'll worry about whether I love you as much as I did before...""No, I won't, Jack, I promise, I swear to you. I know you love me, I can feel it in your touch, I can hear it in your voice." As she said this, she started to unbutton my shirt. "You'll always be in my heart, and I know I'll always be in yours. Nobody can ever take that away from us. But I have my mom in my heart too, and I have to think about what she needs." She slipped off my shirt, pushed gently on my chest until I laid back on the bed, and started to undo my pants. "I know you won't hurt me, Jack, you can't. You said you trust my instincts. Remember?" She pulled off my pants and underwear in one smooth motion, then turned to drop them on the floor. "Well, that's what I want you to do now. Please just trust me and believe me." In what seemed like one fluid motion, she removed all of her clothes, then stood naked before me as I lay back on the bed. My erection seemed to be a long time in filling out, and she helped it along by stroking it gently. "Rose, honey, your mom is right out there..." I gestured toward the open bedroom door; she put a finger to my lips and shook her head silently, then just as silently, climbed up onto the bed and, without saying anything more, climbed up on top of me, gripped my member and guided it into her moist, velvet spread, sighing deeply as I penetrated her. She started out slowly, riding me up and down, but very quickly increased her speed. Rocking back and forth, sliding up and down, she rode me hard, bucking and pumping, gasping and grabbing my chest as I gripped her by the waist and held on tight. The aroma of sex filled my senses, I felt like I was drowning in it, like being caught beneath a wave that keeps rushing over you and knocking you back. I hadn't even had a chance to think about what we were doing, I just let Rose take the lead; and before I knew it, I was on the threshold, ready to cross over. "Rose," I whispered, "sweetheart, I'm really close, I'm about to lose it, get off me now honey, before it's too late." My words only spurred her to greater action; she was humping furiously, her soft breasts bouncing and rippling in the darkness above my face, riding me like a maniac and panting softly, "oh oh oh oh oh". "Rose, no," I hissed, "stop it, stop it, I'm gonna... ohmyGod, here I go!" And with that, I slid over the edge. As I was spasming up into her, she collapsed on my chest and put her mouth over mine, shoving her tongue past my teeth and ramming it in and out, fucking my mouth with her tongue, a hell-bent little sex machine. As the spasms subsided, she slowed and moved her mouth down to my neck, dragging her tongue across my shoulders, and still she was slowly sliding up and down on me, milking the last little tremors. Then it was over, but she stayed on me, panting and sweating and lightly scratching my chest with her fingernails. I couldn't move, couldn't even turn my head or speak. My hands had slipped down to her thighs, and as they rested there, I could feel little bolts running up through her legs, making her quiver slightly at random for a long time afterward.
When I didn't say anything for a while, Rose smiled languorously, "We'll be okay, I know it. It's been four weeks since my last period, it's too late for me to get pregnant. You'll see, I'll start bleeding in a day or so and you'll know everything is okay." She kissed me on the chest and pulled the sheet over us. "There, you see? We covered our nakedness before the eyes of God." I had to smile in spite of myself.
"Still, that's quite a chance to take, sweetheart," I mumbled, not wanting to seem ungracious, wanting to take care to never seem ungrateful for such a powerful gift.
"Well, I thought of it like this," she said slowly, her toes softly scratching my legs, "if you start doing this with my mom, I might not get to do it with you as often. So I wanted to do it with you while I had the chance. It was worth it, wasn't it? I mean, I can still feel it in my legs and my butt!" She slid slowly off of me, and in the darkness I could just make out the outline of her face and breasts as she lay back. "OhmyGod, the smell! Jack, will it still smell like sex in here in the morning?" We opened the window to feel the slight chill of November that had crept in during the last hour and turned on the little fan on Marjorie's nightstand, and Rose lit the two candles on the dresser; Kona Coast Vanilla and Apple Blossom Cinnamon.
29 ...She makes love just like a woman, yes she does, and she aches just like a woman, but she breaks just like a little girl... Just Like A Woman (Robert Zimmerman)
Things were a little uneven after that. Marjorie remembered that something had passed between us, but the amount of alcohol she had consumed had apparently blotted out most of it, and she wasn't quite sure what it was, and wasn't sure how to suss it out; and I wasn't sure how to act around her. Rose was laying subtle pressures on me every other day, passing little hints that she figured would push me into approaching Marjorie, to start a physical relationship.
There came a Wednesday evening in December, a couple of weeks before Christmas, that Rose apparently couldn't take it anymore. As we sat in the early evening gloom of the clubhouse, playing Yahtzee and chowing on pretzels, she reached across the coffee table and, taking my chin in her delicate little hand to ensure my full attention, said "Jack, are you gonna ask my mom out?" She was so direct and open, and so intent and insistent on her little "project", that I simply folded like a house of cards and said, "All right, love, you win. I'll call her tomorrow to ask her out this weekend."
"Can't let you wait until tomorrow, babe," she pouted, "don't want you to get cold feet. Ask her NOW!" And her expression shifted to such a perfect blend of petulence and pleading that all hope of resistance was destroyed.
"Okay, okay, you win," I sighed. "I'll ask her tonight." Rose bounced to her feet, any thought for the game swept away by my agreement.
"Let's go then, Jack, let's go ask her NOW!" she demanded pulling at my hand until I stood and followed her to the door. As we shrugged into our coats and slipped on our shoes, Rose turned to me. "What are you going to say? I mean, what are you going to ask her?"
"God, I don't know," I muttered, "I've never really asked anyone on a date before. I... I... um..." Rose looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, "Just go with the classic, ask her if she wants to go to dinner and a movie!"
As I opened the door for her, I gave her arm a little squeeze to punctuate my next comment, "Jeez, Rose, it isn't that easy! I can't just blurt it out like that! All of a sudden, I'm so nervous! It takes a hell of a lot more courage than you know to ask a woman to go out with you. It's a scary thing."
"Well then pretend it's me. You wouldn't have any trouble asking me, would you?"
"That's different, sweetheart. We know each other so well, and you're my best friend in the world."
"Oh shut up and just do it, Jack! I know you can!"
At the door of the apartment, I put a hand on Rose's shoulder to stop her before she could enter. "Wait a minute, Rose, I am NOT going to take her out in that truck, and it would be unforgivably lame for me to ask to borrow her own car to take her out."
"Oh come on, Jack, it was no big deal for you to use the car when mom was out of town, this isn't all that much different." She put her arms around me and squeezed tight. "And you're almost like family anyway, so it's all cool," and the impish smile that filled half her face told me that she knew I was going to give her whatever she wanted.
Without waiting for further response from me, she flung open the door and breezed into the apartment, leaving me stuttering along in her wake.
"Hey mom," she sang out, "I'm home!" When she heard Rose, Marjorie came out of the bathroom, hair wrapped in a towel and a bathrobe that she hadn't bothered to completely close draped loosely around her curves. When she saw me, she blushed briefly and quickly closed the robe, and I blushed harder and turned away a few seconds too late. Seemingly oblivious to this exchange, Rose turned on her heel and fixed me with an expression of 'Do the right thing, I'm counting on you!'
"Um, hi, um, Marj," I stumbled, "um, sorry to catch you off guard like this. Um...", a lightning bolt from Rose's eyes letting me know that I had better not drop the ball; even if I had caught Marjorie completely naked and slathering herself with baby oil, Rose would have expected me to stick to plan, "if you're not busy Saturday night, would you, um... would you like to... ah, get something to eat with me?" Another imperious flash from Rose's baby browns, "and, ah, maybe catch a movie?"
Marjorie was as off-guard and unsure as I was. I could see she had witnessed the little looks Rose was giving me, and I felt sure she knew exactly what was going on. She took a few seconds to assess the situation, before slowly nodding and even more slowly smiling, "Sure, I'd like that. I'd like that a lot, Brent." And her smile kept growing until it was radiating its own warmth across the empty space between us and lighting up my chest. I thought briefly of cursing fate, or kismet, or whatever in the hell it is that evaluates and watches our lives, for forcing me to endure so much loneliness, then 'making up' for it by giving me too much happiness to handle. "So then," my voice suddenly coming much freer and steadier, "I'll stop by about, what, say, 6?" Marjorie nodded vigorously, "Yeah, 6 is fine," she gushed with her mouth, while her eyes added, 'and so are you!' Wowzers. I was so euphoric that I completely forgot to say anything about the car. Rose assured me later that she would handle that little detail. So confident, so competent, so capable. How could I NOT be in love with her?As I was leaving, Rose followed me out into the hall. She took my hand and kissed the palm, then pressed herself into my embrace. "Thank you, Jack, I knew you could do it!" I had no words, so I just hugged her all the tighter.
Saturday afternoon found Rose assembling my attire for the date. Not that she didn't trust me, she explained, but she felt like she should be running this little show. I didn't mind, it was much more enjoyable for me anyway, to just sit back and let someone else make all the decisions. Before I put my shirt on, Rose applied a generous amount of Old Spice to my face, neck, and chest, rubbing it in, her tender little digits making circling motions around my nipples that made me melt. A most curious sensation, to be dressed by my thirteen-year-old lover, her confident and capable fingers buttoning my shirt, fastening and zipping my pants with a gentle squeeze to what lay beneath the zipper, helping me into my jacket... she was my daughter, my mother, my sister, my friend, my lover, my wife... so many conflicting feelings and sensations... and when at the end, she was done and stood back to admire her handiwork, she liked what she saw so much that she wrapped her loving arms around me, and then all the other women she had been were gone, and there was only my lover, wild and mournful over the imminent change in our relationship.
By then, it was ten minutes to six. We walked slowly over to the apartment, not quite daring to hold hands, but with our little fingers wrapped together in the space between us. It felt like Rose was still trying to learn to let go of the part of me that her mother might soon have.
When we walked into the apartment, I felt my jaw come unhinged and literally fall open at the sight of Marjorie. Her eyelids were tinged with this gentle blue and purple sparkly stuff, her lips gleaming red, and she bore an almost invisible streak of maroon on her cheeks. Her long hair curled gently around her shoulders; the white shirt she wore had a brilliant swatch of colors across the front, with a neckline so low that with the top button unbuttoned, I was sure I was seeing more than half of her breasts. A simple, single chain of silver glittered around her neck, matched by a bracelet on her left wrist. Her tight tan skirt came halfway down her thighs, and when she walked over to me, I could see it riding up fairly high to allow her legs to move. Her feet were just barely covered by strappy little sandals with one-inch heels. She moved toward me with a slinky sidestep, and when she stood in front of me, she reached up to gently push my jaw back up into a closed position, then reached forward to give a quick hug. I inhaled deeply; the sweet smell of her Navy was intoxicating.
"My, don't you look nice tonight," Marjorie murmured as she stood back and eyed me warmly.
"Marjorie," I rasped like an idiot, and had to clear my throat a couple of times to continue, "Marj... you're dazzling, you're too beautiful for words. You are... a... vision of delight..." For the first time ever, I heard Marjorie giggle, actually giggle like a schoolgirl, and her cheeks burned with a furious ochre that suddenly made her twice as beautiful. I actually started to hyperventilate just a little from the sudden overwhelming collision of sensation, emotion, and desire that pierced my chest and points lower.
She fished in her handbag for a second before producing the car keys and slipping them into my pants pocket (!) with a friendly little pat to make them jingle (!!!) and a sultry smile only inches from my face. Taking my arm in hers, Marjorie turned to Rose and said, "Ready, sweetheart?" Rose looked a little stricken as she chewed her lower lip and nodded. Marjorie continued, "Okay, get your bag, honey, let's get this show on the road." At my look of bewilderment, Rose cocked her head at me and said, "Oh, I forgot to tell you, I'm sleeping over at Brittany's tonight, so you guys are gonna have to drop me off on the way." I felt my jaw start to slide open for a second time before catching myself and closing it. The... MINX... had made sure there would be nothing to inhibit me, nothing in my way, when Marjorie and I got back to the apartment; nothing to provide an excuse for not bedding her. Again I say to you, HOW could I NOT be in love with her?
Dropping her off at Brittany's brought a startling new sensation; the anxiety of a parent delivering a child to a first-ever experience where the parent isn't around to supervise. I knew that Rose must have been to a sleepover before, but not since I had known her, and the uneasy feeling it caused in my gut must have been similar to what a father feels. A decidedly unpleasant feeling. As we watched from the driveway, Rose knocked on the door. When Brittany opened it, she stepped out onto the porch to wave to us. Score one for Brittany; that little courtesy made me feel a little more charitable toward her. Even dressed down, Brittany looked like a firecracker, and I could easily see why she would have no trouble getting all the men she wanted.
As we headed to Vincenzo's Steakhouse, Marjorie and I sat in tense silence. Well, maybe not tense, but there was definitely some kind of tension between us. The thousand-and-one unspoken questions, expectations, hopes, fears, anxieties, hungers, needs, swarmed over us and between us; it was torture, for me at least, to have all these raw expectations. Neither of us sure how to make that first puncture in the bubble that separated us. I coughed nervously once or twice, and a minute later Marjorie followed suit. We looked at each other, and she gave me a little smirk, which brought an involuntary smile from me, which caused her smirk to grow bolder, which increased my smile, until we were both laughing uproariously, as over some monumental jest we had made together. We still hadn't said anything to each other, but the tension was completely released, evaporated, vanished. Just as she had so many times in front of the TV in her apartment, Marjorie's hand came to rest on my knee. It was a feeling of such intense familiarity, and brought such a rush of relief, that I was completely unaware until sometime after I did it, that I had put my hand on Marjorie's knee in response. I should have been nervous; instead, it was comforting. It was an unspoken acknowledgement between us of how the night was going to end. We both knew it, now we had admitted it to each other, and that admission made everything smooth and right, replacing the tingling uncertainty with an edgy anticipation that sent tremors through my crotch. It was the difference between being buffeted by turbulence at 20,000 feet and a long steady glide on a certain path to an easy landing. I would have sworn even our hearts were beating in unison.
Vincenzo's was strangely quiet for a Saturday night. We didn't have to wait to be seated, we were immediately shown to a cozy little table in the corner furthest from the kitchen, hidden in a fern- and candle-choked alcove that isolated it from the rest of the patrons. As we perused the menu, Marjorie reached over to touch my arm, and I couldn't stop myself from looking straight down the front of her shirt. As it turned out, she only wanted to tell me that she wanted us to go Dutch on the bill. Again, I saw the hand of Rose at work, trying to grease the skids; I was sure she had prepped Marjorie on my lack of disposable income, trying to ease as much of the burden on me as she could, to remove any distraction from the task at hand. Marjorie ordered a petite sirloin, while mine was a chicken carbonara. While we waited for the food, we shared a bottle of Sangria; after the first sip, Marjorie smiled at me over the rim of the glass and said, "Tonight, I spend with you." It was a comfort to know what she really meant by that, to not have to guess if there was any deeper meaning, but that didn't make me any less anxious over the prospect.
When the food came, Marjorie cut a portion of her steak and put it on my plate, and I did the same for her with my chicken. The food was delicious, the music and lighting were perfect, and we shared an easy conversation as we finished the bottle of Sangria, although I honestly can't remember a single thing we said to each other. When we were done eating and the bill arrived, Marjorie teased a 20 from her handbag and pressed it into my hand, and as we stood at the register while I paid for the meal, she wrapped her arm around mine and stood very close, her brilliant red lips vaguely curved in a mysterious smile that made me giddy. As we walked out to the car, our arms naturally slipped around each other's waists. I walked her around to the passenger side and held the door open for her, and she thanked me with her smile.
We pulled into the parking lot of the theater and cruised slowly past the posters advertising the current movies. Each one looked less interesting than the one before, and we found ourselves agreeing that none of them appealed enough to make the effort. Marjorie suggested stopping at Larry's Liquor Lodge on Parkway, to get a bottle of something while we mulled our choices; so we did. As small as Larry's store was, his selection was nothing short of amazing. No matter what type of liquor I could think of, Larry had it. I suspected that was probably the reason Marjorie picked this place. She had selected a bottle of 90 proof rum and a two-liter of Coke; when she sashayed up to the counter to pay, Larry couldn't take his eyes off her. "Holy Gawd Mawj, you look hawtter than hayull," he wheezed as he bagged up the bottles, and with a couple of comically lewd winks, "mus' be a pretty hawt date!" Marjorie smacked his shoulder (pretty hard, I thought) and hissed "Shut up, Larry! Jeezis, you're such an old goat!"
Back in the car, Marjorie pursed her lips and blew air through them."No glasses," she mused, "guess we'll have to head back to the apartment for a bit. Long enough to knock back a drink or two, anyway, while we decide what to do." I drove us back to the complex, parked, and followed her back to her place. Inside, we kicked our shoes off at the door, and I slipped off my jacket and tossed it on a chair. She got down a couple of glasses while I cracked an ice cube tray, and in less time than it takes to tell, we were sitting side by side on the couch, sipping our drinks and sizing each other up. I could see that Marjorie wanted to say something to me, but she was struggling with it; her eyes were darting from side to side as if she were sizing up the best route through a gauntlet. I took a deep pull on my drink to get my courage up, then reached out to massage her shoulder, mildly amazed at my audacity. "Hey, Marj, it's okay," I whispered, "just relax. Nothing to be tense about. Just breathe. It's just us, just sitting here." All alone. Nobody else in the whole wide world. Probably both going to be drunker than hell very shortly.
I continued to gently caress her shoulder, reaching up to brush her neck with my fingers, and she closed her eyes and made a little "ooooo" with her lips. With eyes still closed, she started, "Brent..." My heart did a somersault at that, but I just kept smoothly rubbing her shoulder and neck. "Brent," she started again, "you know how I feel about your relationship with Rose." Completely of its own accord, my hand stopped rubbing. As if she hadn't noticed, she went on, "You saved us, Brent. You saved Rose, you rescued her for me. You reached down into Hell and pulled her up. And you pulled me up with her. You saved us both. You... you saved her... from me..." An absurd sting of gratitude for her perception of me burned my eyes, and I slowly started to stroke the side of her neck again. She glanced at her drink, took a long pull on it, then suddenly drained the glass. She laid her head back and closed her eyes again, lost in the sensation of my massage. After a couple of shuddering breaths, she pressed on, so softly that I had to lean in closer and closer to hear her. "I thought I wanted to get drunk, tonight, with you, because... because... get drunk with you, because I wanted to... wanted us to..." I had an overwhelming rush of feeling, a sweet urge toward her that I couldn't resist. I took her glass and put it with mine on the coffee table, and leaned forward to kiss her gently on the throat. She made a little strangled noise and put her hand on my hair, and suddenly I was drowning in her, sucked under by the smell of her perfume and the willing way she tilted her head back to give me better access to her. "Don't, uh... don't, Bren... don't, uh, uh... stop, Brent, don't do that... we have to, uh...have to get drun...OOOoooohhhhh" she murmured, while the steady pressure of her hand on the back of my head was moving me gently down her chest, to the valley between her breasts. Very slowly and deliberately, I unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it back, and she helped me by shrugging out of it. She was still trying to tell me to stop as she unfastened her bra and slid it off. Her nipples were already tight and hard. At the first flick of my tongue around her areola, her back arched and she made a savage growl in the back of her throat. The heavenly feel of her nipple under my tongue sent a warm shock through my thighs, and she was pulling my head down further into her flesh. "Ohhhhh, my goddddd... Bren... Jac... Jack..." she breathed, and I knew we couldn't hold back. I quickly stood and scooped her up; she seemed to have no weight, like she was almost floating in my arms. As I carried her into the bedroom, her tongue was drawing little patterns on my neck; she kissed, then sucked on my ear, and I started to feel dizzy. I was afraid I might drop her, so I set her on her feet next to the bed, where she unbuttoned my shirt, kissing her way down my chest as she did so. She didn't stop with the shirt; when she got to my pants, she unfastened and slipped them down my legs, then knelt in front of me to help me step out of them, followed by the socks. As she was kneeling before me, my half-mast erection roared to a full, raging stiffness that pushed unmercifully against my underwear. She pulled those off too, then leaned into me to take my cock in her hand and my balls in her mouth. Looking down at this beautiful woman, this mother of my Goddess, kneeling before me, servicing me with a ferocious hunger, I got a strange twinge in my chest to match the one that was building behind my balls. She was making me weak in the knees; I sat on the bed, then pulled her up by the shoulders to get her to stand. With an assist from her, I unzipped and slid her short skirt off. It was hard to see; the only light in the room was the spillover from the living room lamp, but I could see the crotch of her panties was wet, and the smell confirmed it. I slid her underwear off, then pulled her down onto the bed and had her lay back while my tongue travelled every inch of her body. When I got to her thighs, the smell of her musk pushed all rational thought out of my head, and my tongue started trying to work its way completely inside her. Marjorie had shaved her pussy, the skin was baby smooth, and the feeling of that flesh beneath my tongue was ecstatic. Marjorie was moaning and panting, her legs spread as wide as she could get them, her hands flung back over her head, gripping the headboard to hold herself in place while my mouth and nose made their way deeper and deeper into the glistening folds of her bare flesh. I was working my way slowly up her valley, and when my tongue found her clitoris, her back arched and her hips were bucking wildly beneath me, so that it was all I could do to keep my tongue buried in her heat. I backed off from the clitoris for a few seconds, and suddenly she was spraying me in the mouth with her juice, literally shooting a gush of fluid that splashed over my shocked tongue. After I caught what I could, I moved back up to her clitoris, trying to bury it in my tongue, pouring every last ounce of myself into stroking and exciting and loving that tiny area, until it became the entire universe to me. Her thighs had wrapped themselves around my head, squeezing and pulling me down, squeezing, squeezing, until I thought I might pass out from the pressure, and still I kept a steady rhythm of my tongue on that little miracle of flesh that was rocking her. Although my ears were completely blocked by her legs, I could still hear her wails and moans; or rather, I felt them as a vibration through her thighs. My lungs were beginning to protest the lack of air, but I couldn't stop, couldn't pull my nose and mouth out of her hot, wet temple. Suddenly, she grabbed my hair and pulled my head up from her crotch. "Inside me," was all she could say, "inside me now, get inside me now, god, please please please get inside me now..." I scrambled up until we were face to face. Marjorie put her arm around my neck and pulled my mouth to hers, her rum taste filling my senses as her breath rushed into me. I had condoms in my pants, but the moment demanded we keep going, and I didn't have any more time to think about what we were doing, I just did it. Guiding it with my thumb and first two fingers, I put the head of my cock right at her opening and teased it in. Once the head was surrounded, I slid the rest of the way in so easily that it was almost like falling into her. So sloppy, my god, so sloppy and wet and hot as I pushed and pushed myself into her, hearing the sloshing, slapping sounds we made against each other. Her hands dug into my butt cheeks, tearing at them, pulling me into her, as if she meant to fit my whole body in there. From a million miles up, I felt the rush coming on. I didn't know how long it would take, but I felt how inevitable it was, and I knew it was going to happen; I knew I was going to shoot my load deep into her waiting temple. Something in the way I was moving must have told her, because she began rocking her head back and forth, panting "Together, together, oh my god, we're gonna, we're gonna, we're gonna c-c-cum together...", and then it was happening; the feeling between my legs sent a shockwave through me, my vision was suddenly shot through with rainbow blooms and angry white spangles that grew until they blotted out everything else, and there I was, floating in that timeless space, the darkness that wasn't. The Little Death, that Rose had introduced me to, where I heard and saw nothing, where every other sense that wasn't pure explosive pleasure ceased to exist for an infinity of seconds.
When my hearing and sight faded so slowly back in, I became aware of Marjorie next to me, barely breathing, a single tear running slowly from each eye, sparkling in the faint light from beyond the bedroom door. She gradually turned to look at me, and her eyes were reflections of wonder. "Bren... Ja... Jack? What... oh holy god. Oh my god, oh my holy fucking god, what was that? What did you do to me? I... I... I thought I was dying! I really thought I was fucking dying!" and as words failed her completely, I put her hand on my face so she could feel me nodding in the dark. "Yes, I know," I said, "I felt it too. It's called the Little Death. I think. I mean, I know there's a feeling called the Little Death, and I thought I knew what it was, but until I felt it myself, I never had any idea what it actually was or how it felt."
"Does this happen to you every time you have sex?" she asked. "Or is it only with certain people?" Ohmygod. I had just slipped and told her I had felt the Little Death before, and if she asked who I had experienced it with, what was I going to tell her?
"No, not every time..."I started slowly, then stopped, because I didn't know how to continue. I knew I owed her more of an explanation than that, but...
"Jack," she whispered, stroking my chest and reaching up to my neck with her loving touch. Hearing her call me 'Jack' triggered a flood of emotions that were never meant to be felt together, confusing me to the center of my being. "Jack, I thought I needed to get drunk to make love to you, and I wanted to, so bad. Make love to you, that is. But I think I needed to get drunk for something else too. I don't know why, I just do. Do you know what I might have needed to get drunk for, Jack?" When she said that, something inside me tore loose and went speeding away on a gale of reckless abandon. "No, I don't," I whispered, "but I know how to find out. Let's get drunk and find out, shall we?" The uncertainty and potential in Marjorie's glance was all the answer I needed. With a loving kiss to each of Marjorie's beautiful round breasts, I pushed up from the bed. Wandering through the apartment in a light stupor, I collected our glasses, sloshed together a couple of rum and cokes that were very heavy on rum, and brought them back to the bedroom. "Drink up," I said as I sat in front of her and handed her one of the glasses. I took a sip from mine, and she guzzled down about half of hers on the first draught.
Wordlessly, Marjorie moved until she was sitting up, facing me, straddling me, and she was able to reach down between my legs and start stroking my shaft. When I was hard again, her movements let me know she wanted me inside her. She finished off her drink and put down the glass, then took my almost-full glass from me and drained what was left. She maneuvered until we were face to face, her in my lap, and she gripped my cock and guided it into her waiting pussy, sliding down until I was buried, balls deep, with her pussy completely surrounding me. She wrapped her arms around me and pressed her breasts up against my chest, and as we sat there heart to heart, I started to really feel the rum.
"Bren... Jack," she started, then shivered, and I pressed us together tighter, "this is what I wanted to get drunk for. Because I need to tell you something. Something I can only admit to myself when I get drunk. You see, I know... I know about... about you and Rose. Know you've been loving each other," this last said with a squeeze of her inner muscles around my cock for emphasis. "I know you've been... f... fucking... my little baby girl..." I think she knew I wouldn't have interrupted her, but she put her fingers on my mouth anyway. "D... don't really blame you... all that much, I mean, I was 14 when I fucked my first guy... but he was 19..." she wavered, aware that she was sliding away from the most important point she wanted to make. "I was... really upset, at first... because you were so old," my flinch at this seemed to go right by her, "but I knew you wouldn't hurt her. I knew... you... were a good guy, a really good good guy, I KNEW it, I knew you wouldn't hurt her..." She began to rock, just a little bit, back and forth on me. "I knew you... were like Stan... patient... and loving... and she loves you, Jack, she loves you like a... like a... oh god damn it, Jack, I don't know what she loves you like, but she loves you. She LOVES you, Jack. With all her little heart..." She was rocking harder now, still riding my cock and starting to slide up and down on the shaft. "And you love her too, I know you do, I've seen it with my own eyes. I've seen the way you look at her, the way you talk to her, the way you touch her... Aahh, aahhhh, oohhh... oh god..." this last in response to the friction of my cock inside her. "Oohhh f... fuhhhhhck... fffuuuhhhck me, Jack, fffuuuhhhck me... FUCK me like you were fucking Rose, FUCK me with your big hard daddy cock inside my little girlie pussy..." She was riding me for real now, humping with her hips and hugging my head to her breasts, "FUCK me daddy, FUCK me Jack, F... F... FUCK ME STAN, FUCK ME HARD IN MY PUSSY, FUCK ME LIKE YOU LOVE ME, FUCK YOUR BABY GIRL..." and she dissolved into a wordless series of ahhs and uhhs, moaning and gasping, humping like her life depended on it. I was in awe of the sheer desperate energy of it all, of her manic humping and pounding, and in what seemed like no time, she was cumming and crying out, and when she was done, she collapsed onto my chest. I hadn't cum, and had been in no danger of cumming. It had felt fantastic, and I didn't feel the least bit cheated; I was just glad I had been able to provide her with the means for her to reach orgasm a second time.
As we lay there together, my hardness still deep inside her, I was surprised and bemused to hear her gently snoring. As carefully as I could, I rolled her off of me and onto the mattress, rolling with her, taking care to keep my cock inside her. She stirred a little as I carefully and gently began stroking in and out of her, and in a couple of minutes I let loose another load inside her. She never woke up when I came, but she smiled and laughed gently in her sleep. I pulled out and laid next to her, stroking her hair and gently touching her face. She stirred a little more, then snuggled into me and threw her arm over my chest, still sound asleep. I pulled the blanket up over us and felt my eyelids getting very heavy, and that was the last thing I was aware of that night.
30... After midnight, we gonna let it all hang out, after midnight, we gonna shake, jump and shout... After Midnight (Eric Clapton)
I had some pretty wild dreams that night. I was sliding down a ramp of warm colored ice while stars flashed past my head. I was with Marjorie at a circus, eating rum-flavored cotton candy and watching a trapeze act where the safety net had been replaced by a pit filled with condoms. Rose and I were walking on a bridge over a deep ravine when the bottom fell out and we started to float down to earth; at the bottom of the ravine we could see a crashed UFO, whose pilots were walking around in a daze. Probably a dozen more like that, all short little snippets and all bizarre.
As the morning came and I was rising gently up toward the waking world, I slowly became aware of a sound close by; a soft sound, almost inaudible, but definitely there; a wet, rhythmic sound, and underneath it, the sound of breathing, soft yet distinctly heavy. Without moving, I tried to open one eye but there was something wrong; my eye was dried out, and when I looked around, my vision was blurred; I had slept with my contacts in again. Marjorie was curled up on her side of the bed, lost in slumber. I continued to look around through a half-closed eye; When my gaze fell on the bedroom door, I saw Rose looking at Marjorie and me in bed; or rather, she would have been looking at us if her eyes hadn't been kind of rolled back in her head, her eyelids fluttering just a little. I gradually became aware that she was masturbating; looking at the pair of us in bed, undoubtedly fantasizing about what our night had been like. I was debating whether to let her know I was awake (and probably interrupting her diddling in the process) or playing possum and letting her continue until she got off. My growing need to urinate almost decided the issue for me, when Rose's sudden soft explosion of breath told me she had reached her goal. I stirred and pulled the blanket aside, then pushed myself up to a standing position, rubbing my eyes to get some moisture back into the contacts. As I shuffled to the door, Rose gave me a crooked little grin and cocked her head to one side.
"Hey stud, how's it hangin'?" she whispered, and I had to laugh in spite of myself.
"Morning, angel. Sounds like you managed to... enjoy yourself," I smiled, and I briefly cupped her face in the palm of my hand as I brushed past her and continued on to the bathroom.
As I stood before the toilet and prepared to relieve myself, Rose came up behind me and wrapped her arms around me, kissing me on the back. Suddenly, she reached for my penis.
"Hey," she said quietly, "what's it like to pee standing up? Let me see," and she reached around to gently take me in her hand, peeking around to see where she was aiming the stream. Partly because she was inexperienced with aiming a stream, and partly because I was almost fully erect, more of it went outside the toilet than in. We cleaned it up together, grimacing and laughing, and Rose promised to be more careful next time, while I promised her there would not be a next time.
I slid back into the bedroom and slipped my pants and shirt on. Marjorie was laying on her back, snoring softly, her gorgeous breasts in full view. I drew the blanket up to her shoulders, then made my way out to the kitchen, where Rose was starting a pot of coffee.
"I didn't expect you back so soon, angel," I said, "in fact, I didn't expect you at all; I thought I'd need to pick you up from Brittany's."
"Yeah, well, Brittany needed to be at cheerleading practice by 8, so they dropped me off on the way there." She turned to face me and leaned back to rest her elbows against the counter, her chest out, making the most of her luscious curves.
"I didn't realize you and Brittany were friendly enough to do a sleepover," I said.
"Well, it wasn't just the two of us. Callista and Jalisha were there too, you know, the girls she always hangs out with. I overheard them a couple of weeks ago, talking about it, and I had the idea that if I could get them to let me spend the night, I could give you the chance to..." and she lowered her head and looked up at me through half-closed eyes while holding up her left thumb and index finger in a circle and sliding her right index finger in and out of the circle. "God, I love you so much," I had to say, and she just winked and said, "I know."So anyway, I told Brittany that I always liked to listen to them talking in the lunchroom, and that I was kind of jealous of them," this last said with a saucy little smirk as she remembered the conversation, "and this and that, and it worked! She invited me to her sleepover, and that's all there is to that." She opened the cupboard to peruse her cereal choices with a finger on her lips; then, "So? How did the date go? I can see how it ended, but tell me the beginning and the middle," waggling her eyebrows ludicrously.
I launched into a brief description of our supper, then told her about our failure to find a movie we wanted to see. She snorted when I told her about the trip to Larry's, but didn't say anything otherwise. I chewed my lower lip for a second while I tried to think of the best way to tell her about the rest of the evening. Rose prompted, "So, then you came back here, and... what?"
"Well, Marj... your mom... said she wanted to tell me something, but I could see she was having trouble bringing it up. We each had a drink to relax, but she was still having trouble with it. I was rubbing her neck to try to relax her," I said, noting how Rose's eyes sparkled when I said that, "and one thing led to another, and another, and..."
"And you fucked her brains out!" Rose breathed triumphantly.
"Well, yes, at first..." I started, and a cloud crossed her face; something in my manner warned her that there was more to come that she might not be ready for. "Rose, sweetheart... she knows. About us, I mean. She knows we've been... together..." and I repeated Rose's finger poking gesture for emphasis. Rose's eyes grew to twice normal size and her mouth slowly opened in shock. "I know she knows," was my lame finish, "because... she told me."
"She... wha... she... oh god... how... what did she... I mean... we..." Rose stumbled, her dawning horror muting her ability to vocalize, and I held my hand up to stop her.
"Angel, there's something else. I think she only lets herself realize it when she's drunk. I think when she's sober, she keeps it locked so far in the back of her head that she doesn't know it's there. So she doesn't really know that she knows, I mean."
"How do you know that? I mean, what did she say to you that..."
"Well, when we first got back here, we each had a rum and Coke, and that's when I started rubbing her neck. She kept trying to tell me to stop, but only because she wanted to be drunk when we made love. She wanted to get to that frame of mind where she was able to admit it to herself, so then she would be able to tell me she knew about us. But she wouldn't allow herself to say it at first, because we hadn't had enough to really get drunk the first time we did it, so she..."
"First time? Ohmigod, how many times did you guys do it?"
"Just twice, sweetheart, but let me finish. After the first time, she really wanted to finish the job of getting drunk. So we had some more, and that was apparently enough, because that's when she told me. And sweetheart, she wasn't angry or upset! I mean, she wasn't exactly overjoyed about it, but she seems to think that there's more good than bad to us being together. She didn't ask for any explanations, and she didn't tell me to stop... doing it... with you... and angel, there's one more thing." Rose's eyes got wider still, and in them was the question, 'How much more can there be?' I answered her with, "Sweetheart, while we were doing it, she called me Jack." I took about a half-second to consider whether I should share that she also called me Stan, before discarding that idea. No sense in pouring salt on a wound whose size and shape I couldn't even begin to gauge.
Rose was quiet after I told her this, chewing her lower lip while her brow furrowed so deeply I was afraid she might injure herself. The coffee maker spluttered to a finish, so I got down a mug and poured myself a cup, then sat at the table to wait for her to finish her first stab at assimilating the information I had just dumped on her. After a few more minutes, she turned to the cupboard and got down a box of Froot Whirls, then absently opened the box and stood looking inside, not really seeing the cereal. I could almost see the neurons in her head darting off on one tangent and another as her gaze drifted far beyond the confines of the kitchen. For an eternity of perhaps 2 or 3 minutes she stood like that; I wanted to take her in my arms, but I could see she needed the space, so I held myself in check. Gradually, she came back to the moment and gazed at me with such a mix of wonder, hope and fear that I could feel my insides twitching. She took a quick glance down at the cereal box, which brought her another step closer to the present moment, then her sly smile gradually crept back. "So then, after she told you that, you guys did it again?"
Thank god, I thought, I think we're going to be all right. "Yes, love, we did it again, and that second time, she came so hard that it put her to sleep. Well, the rum probably had a lot to do with that, but it exhausted her. And Rose, get this; the first time we did it, we made it to the Little Death. Marj... your mom... well, she was stunned, and I think a little scared. She'd never felt that before. But it must not have made her too scared, because she was the one who got us started the second time. She really must have wanted it, because she was riding me like a bronco and, uh... screaming..." Rose crinkled her nose at that; I took it to mean I had provided a little more information than she was really ready for.
She settled herself at the table, snacking on handfuls of dry cereal. I reached over to the coffee pot and refilled my cup, then turned to face her. "So, what did you guys do at the sleepover?" I asked, my head filled with vague notions of giggling and nail polish, Tiger Beat and pizza and potato chips.
"Oh, just stuff. You know, just girl junk," she said. Her smile would have been coy, but there was something just a little too vague about it, a little too unsettled, for me to feel at ease.
"Girl junk? Like what?" I pressed. "Like, fingernail painting, or... ?" I glanced at her hands; she wasn't wearing polish, so obviously that wasn't it.
"Oohhh... just stuff, no biggie, just games and stuff, y'know, nothing really. Jeez, Jack, no big deal, eh?" Her smile was starting to wilt just a little, and my sense of unease took another sidling step forward. It was obvious she didn't want to tell me everything, and that scared me more than I cared to admit. It felt like the aura of a secret, a hidden truth, something new for us; something had happened that Rose didn't want me to know, and that was an ugly feeling indeed. I wanted to press her for details, but we were in uncharted territory, I didn't want to make a mistake; didn't want to hurt or embarrass her. I knew I should just let it drop and wait for Rose to bring it to me in her own good time... and yet... I leaned back in my chair, then totally without thinking, blurted out, "Games? You guys played Monopoly or something?"
"No... yeah, I mean, yeah, we played... ah... um... it was..." she shut her eyes tight and rubbed them as she struggled furiously for the words. "It... ah... it was, ah... I mean..."
I reached over to take her hand in mine. "Hey, it's okay sweetheart, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry." Her eyes opened wide as she gazed into my face, "No, Jack, you're not prying, it's just... uh..." Her lower lip started to tremble, and I could see a tear beginning to glisten in the corner of her eye. I had no more doubts about holding her now. I reached over and pulled her up onto my lap, wrapping my arms around her and pulling her head down to my shoulder. "Shh, shh, it's okay," I whispered into her sweet-smelling hair, "it's okay love, really." She pulled back to look earnestly into my face.
"No, Jack, I want to tell you, it's just, I don't know where to start... it's... we... Brittany, she... um..." and she collapsed back onto my shoulder as bitter tears started trickling down her cheeks. As I held her close and wiped away the tears as they came, I could feel the beginning of a savage rage building inside me. What had that bitch Brittany done to my precious flower?
Rose took a few more seconds to wipe her nose with a napkin, and then she came back to herself with a few shuddering breaths. She closed her eyes and snuggled into me, once again the child in need of comfort and reassurance. A blessed responsibility, to be her daddy and soothe her fears; I was luxuriating in the sensation of being able to provide comfort and healing to my beloved. She laid her little hand on my chest and plunged ahead.
"When I first got there, everything was okay. Brittany introduced me to her mom, and she seemed like a nice lady, but I could tell she had a few drinks before I got there. Brittany didn't exactly out-and-out tell me, but I picked up from what she said, that her dad wasn't hardly ever around, and he wasn't there last night, so it was just Brittany's mom and then the girls she invited over, Callista and Jalisha and Arielle and Harmony. We all went in the basement and Brittany put on a CD, I don't even remember what it was. I felt pretty weird at first, like I didn't belong, but they were all cool to me, they talked about movies and junk, and they included me in the conversation and everything, so I started to relax a little, I felt like everything was going to be okay. But then some of the girls started calling boys they knew and teasing them on the phone, saying all kinds of sexy things and just basically trying to get them horny, it didn't take much. Anyway, they told some boys to come over to Brittany's house and bring beer. I started getting really super nervous, like, ohmigod, what did I get myself into?And Brittany and Jalisha took me over in a corner and were talking to me, but I was so scared that I didn't even hear half of what they said, but it was like, they were, like, stroking my hair and rubbing my back and calling me little sister, and then Jalisha said something that scared me so badly I wanted to pee my pants or vomit or something. I don't remember exactly what she said, but it was something about making a woman out of me, and I knew that these horny boys were coming over and they were planning to get drunk, and I knew there was going to be sex, and I knew it wasn't going to be making love like what you and I do, it was just going to be straight-ahead sex and fucking, and even if it WAS lovemaking, it wasn't going to be with you, it was going to be with some stranger, and I got so scared I almost started crying, so Jalisha and Brittany both started hugging me and telling me how glad I was going to be before the night was over.
So I went in the bathroom for like 20 minutes and just kept staring at myself in the mirror and imagining I saw you standing behind me, and I was saying your name over and over again, like, 'Jack, come and get me, Jack, come and get me', and feeling like the world's biggest crybaby idiot, and then I started getting really mad at myself, and I almost started screaming at my reflection, but it was so weird, like I was wanting to scream like I was mad but I couldn't stop crying and then I started hiccupping, and that was so weird that I started to laugh and I couldn't stop, and when I came out of the bathroom and I was laughing so hard I couldn't breathe, and they started getting a little nervous, so Brittany went upstairs and came back down with a bottle of something she snuck from her mom, I heard her say her mom was wasted, and she got a little paper cup from the bathroom and poured a drink from the bottle in it and filled it almost all the way to the top and told me to drink it all at one time.
And I was still scared, but I was also angry with myself for acting like such a stupid baby, and I was still laughing like an idiot the whole time, I didn't know what else to do, so I took the cup and I drank a big gulp from it, it tasted sweet like cherries or something, but a few seconds later my nose and the front of my face was on fire, and they were all looking at me and going, 'chug, chug, chug', so I forced myself to finish the cup, but that was a mistake, because Brittany filled it up again, but only less than halfway this time, and then they did it again, like 'chug, chug, chug', and I did, and I drank the whole thing at one time.
And then my arms and legs started to get really heavy and warm and tired, but I was starting to feel better, and even though I was still scared, I thought I could probably handle it. And they turned on Q107, you know, the one that's always playing dance music and techno and stuff, and it sounded pretty good to me, and I started dancing, and the other girls were dancing too, and I didn't even get surprised when Callista and Harmony started kissing and feeling each other's boobs, and it was almost 11 by then, and Brittany was starting to get mad and saying bad things about the boys they called, but then her cell phone rang and it was the boys and she let them in and they came down the basement and there were three of them and they had ALL this beer, and somebody put an open beer in my hand.
And I started to feel a little better, because here I was, with all these older girls who danced with me and called me little sister, and the boys seemed okay too, I mean, they were even older, like 17 I think, but they were all just sitting there and drinking beer and laughing, and everybody was just talking and it seemed like that's all that was going to happen, just sitting and talking, and I was sitting there with an open beer, and I took a tiny little sip every once in a while, it tasted horrible, but at least I looked like I belonged. That was the coolest part, really, it was like being older, or like being taken seriously by older kids, and I started to feel pretty good about that, like maybe everything was going to be okay.
And then it was late, like after 12, and Brittany said we were going to play Truth or Dare. And we all sat around in a circle, and Brittany said it was her house and her party and her rules, so she started it out by asking Harmony, truth or dare? And Harmony said dare, and Brittany just kind of snorted and said, 'you always take dare' and then she said the dare was that she was going to order a pizza and Harmony had to flash the delivery guy, not just her boobs, but everything, had to give him a good five seconds of full frontal, and Harmony just laughed and said 'bring it on'. So Brittany ordered a pizza, and since she was in charge, she got to do another truth or dare for somebody else while we were waiting for the pizza to get there. So she picked Alex, he was one of the guys who came, and he picked truth, so Brittany said for him to tell what girl's pussy he had eaten that tasted the worst. And he got kind of mad at her and called her a bitch and said, whatever girl he said, that girl would be mad at him, and if said no girl, everyone would think he had never tasted a girl's pussy, so it wasn't really a truth, it was a trick question, and Brittany called him a dumb cunt and said, 'pass', and then she picked Rod, and he said dare, and Brittany got the spinner from a Twister game and put it in the circle and said Rod's dare was, he had to lick the naked butt of whoever the spinner pointed to, and Rod got real quiet and started looking at everybody else in the room, and he kind of shuddered when he looked at Alex and Randy, and when he looked at me, I got this cold chill, and I was like, 'oh shit oh god oh shit oh god' and then she spun it and it pointed in between Arielle and Callista, so Brittany said he had to lick both of them, and Arielle didn't want to pull her pants down but she did when Callista did, and Rod licked them both, and I was freaking out so hard because I couldn't believe it was really happening, and when he sat back down, I could see the bulge in the front of his pants was really sticking out, and I'm still going 'oh shit oh god oh shit oh god' only like a hundred times faster, like it's a prayer or something.
And then the pizza came, and Harmony not only flashed the guy, she, like, rubbed her naked body all over him, like just humping his leg and stuff, and he was so freaked out that he dropped the pizza and ran away without getting the money for it, and everybody was laughing so hard that it made me laugh too, even though I felt so sorry for the pizza guy. And Brittany said Jalisha got to do the next one, and they kind of winked at each other, and Jalisha said Randy, and he said dare, and Brittany was like, mmm hmmm, and Jalisha said Randy had to go in the bathroom with the lights off and take all his clothes off and he had to go in there with somebody else and that somebody else had to take off all their clothes too except they could leave their underwear on if they wanted to, but Randy still had to be naked, and they had to stay in there like that for ten minutes. And then everything got real slow, and real clear, like I was underwater, because I knew exactly who she was going to say, and then she did, she pointed at me and said, 'make us proud, little sister', and her and Brittany just started kind of laughing quietly, and, and then... and then..." Rose stopped to take a breath and gather herself for a few seconds."And then, we went in the bathroom, and Randy took off everything except his underwear, but I could see how stiff he was, his penis was sticking straight out in his shorts, and then he turned off the light, and I heard him take off his underwear and I knew he was naked in the dark with me, and I backed up until I hit the bathtub, and I sat down on the tub and closed my eyes and wished the bathroom door would open and it would be you coming to take me away, but the door stayed shut, and then Randy was saying for me to come on, and he grabbed my shoulders and made me stand up in front of him, and he promised not to hurt me, he said he wouldn't try to screw me if I didn't want him to, he just wanted to make me feel good, and I didn't stop him when he took off my shirt and unsnapped my pants, I didn't want him to but I was scared what would happen if I tried to stop him, and he unzipped my pants and pulled them down but I didn't step out of them, and then he took my hand and tried to put it on his stiff penis, and I didn't want to, I kept pulling my hand away, but he wouldn't stop, he just kept pulling my hand back, and I knew he was gonna keep doing it, so I just let him, he made my fingers wrap around his penis and he put his hand over mine and started stroking it, like he thought he had to show me how to jack him off, but when he stopped moving my hand, I stopped too, I didn't keep stroking it like he wanted me to, and then he was all over me, like squeezing my boobs real hard through my bra and pinching my nipples and it hurt, and he was grabbing my butt and kinda slapping it, and he reached inside my panties and squeezed my butt real hard, and he was like trying to kiss me on my neck and he tried to put his stiff penis between my legs but I squeezed my legs together and I wouldn't let him, but he just did it even harder, and he forced himself between my legs and was rubbing his penis up and down on my panties, and I thought how good it felt when you and I were dry-humping, and how horrible this was, and I just wanted him to stop, and I said 'Randy please stop, why are you like this, why do you want to have sex with someone you don't even know', and he was like 'Cuz it feels so good, and anyway you're super cute and I'd fuck you a thousand times if you let me', and when he said that my heart jumped a little, like I was still so scared, but at the same time this tiny little spark inside me made me feel good when he said I was super cute, and like maybe he wasn't so bad cuz it seemed like he liked me and he wasn't hitting me or anything, but I still wanted him to stop cuz he was being so rough and he just kept grabbing me and hurting me, and then he pulled my panties down and started rubbing my vagina and I thought he was really gonna do it, I thought he was really gonna fuck me, but for a long time he just rubbed my vagina with his hand and he kept telling me he wasn't gonna rape me but I should just open my legs and let him in, but even though I didn't, he kept rubbing me and putting his fingers on my vagina, but he never put his fingers inside me, it was like he was afraid to or he didn't want to or didn't know how to or something, and that made me feel a tiny bit better, cuz he could have if he wanted to, he could have shoved his fingers right up inside me and I couldn't have stopped him. And somehow I got through the ten minutes and Brittany was knocking and saying we had until the count of ten, and then she counted, but she said, 'one, two, ten' and she opened the door and I tried to cover my body and then there was this horrible flash and I went blind for like a minute, and by the time I finished putting my clothes on I could see again, and there was Brittany holding a camera and laughing, and Randy was trying to put his clothes on all at once and yelling that Brittany was a cold bitch, but that just made her laugh harder. And she showed me the picture, and it was awful, it was blurry but you could see Randy trying to pull his pants on and his erection was pointing right at the camera, and there was me with my pants and panties around my knees and I was trying to pull them up, and I was so glad it was over that I managed to laugh and smile and I said, 'That was a good one, you really tagged me' and she just smiled and told me I was all right, and she said we'd get my cherry popped sooner or later, and it was so weird, but that actually made me feel better, cuz I could have told her she was too late, I already had it popped, and cuz I knew my sex life was so much better than hers, even though I couldn't tell her, it still made me feel better just to be able to think it. And they kinda left me alone for the rest of the night, I mean, like they still talked to me, but they talked a lot more to each other. And the boys left probably around 2 or 3, and the girls laid down and went to sleep, but I couldn't sleep, I just lay there in the corner all night, staring at the wall and waiting for morning so I could come home to you guys. And then it was morning, and Brittany was kinda crabby and told me they had to leave but they could drop me off on the way, and... here I am," her little arms wrapped around my neck and pulled me in close for a long, grateful kiss, "safe and sound with you."
During this roller coaster ride, I was in the grip of a fear and an anger such as I had never felt before. The majority of the anger was directed at myself, for so carelessly and cavalierly letting Rose walk into such a dangerous and frightening situation. But a healthy portion of it was reserved for Brittany. Even if she did think of Rose as a little sister, the whore had treated her like an experiment, like an entertainment. I swore this would not go unanswered.
"Oh god, sweetheart, I'm so, so sorry I let this happen to you," I started, but Rose shushed me and put her hand on my lips.
"No Jack, stop, it wasn't you, it wasn't your fault, it was my own fault. I was so anxious for you to make love to my mom that I jumped at the first chance I got without thinking it through. But I'm okay, really Jack, I really am."
"Even if that's so, I can't let it go. I can't let that little bitch think she can do this to my Rose and not suffer any consequences."
"Oh, no Jack, no, please please don't do anything. I really don't think she meant to hurt me, I really think she thought she was helping me, cuz she thought I was still a virgin and she just wanted to help me change that. I couldn't bear it if you did anything bad to her, I swear I couldn't. Please Jack, promise me you won't do anything to her, swear it."
My love. My sweet, beautiful, trusting, generous, innocent love. I knew that I couldn't resist her plea... for now. I let her know with a smile and a snuggle that I would honor her request. But I promised myself that before much more time had passed, there would be a reckoning. As Rose got down a glass to pour herself some milk, we heard Marjorie getting out of bed and making her way to the bathroom.
31 ...I'm gonna give you every inch of my love... Whole Lotta Love (Led Zeppelin)
My relationship with Marjorie was touch and go for a few days. After the level of intimacy we had achieved, it would have been wrong to go back to only showing up once a week for dinner; but the other end of the spectrum, which would have been to start coming over every day, hanging all over her, bringing her flowers and chocolates and other such gifts as I could afford, was loaded with unknowns that I didn't know how to deal with. And while I was very fond of her, and maybe even could say I loved her after a certain fashion, it wasn't the all-consuming passion I felt for Rose; it wasn't the kind of feeling that makes love songs make sense.
For her part, Marjorie seemed as unsure as I was. If we ran into each other, we'd smile and nod, maybe exchange a few pleasant words, and then be on our separate ways. I wondered if the encounters were as painful for her as they were for me. The uncertainty was damned nigh unbearable, the anxiety thick with unguessed possibilities.
It was Marjorie who unwittingly (?) found the way to break the logjam of emotions that was crushing me, by restoring my ability to lust. When I first found Rose, after I had begun to realize what she meant to me, no other woman had been able to arouse me. I mean, when I was doing my chores or whatever at the pool, I was able to admire the swimsuited forms of the women there, but it was just that: admiration, not lust. But on the Thursday after my date with Marjorie, as I was checking chemical levels in the pool (and while Rose was doing homework in the common room), she showed up in her flag bikini for a little swim. She walked past me, and as she did, her hand snaked out to give me the barest little squeeze on my upper arm, hardly enough to register as a touch, but definitely a deliberate move on her part; then she dove from the board and began to swim laps. As I stood there gazing abstactedly at her moving through the water, I realized I was geting an erection; I was lusting after Marjorie, fantasizing about her, like I had with no other woman since Rose landed in my life. I knew then that I wanted to pursue this, needed to see the results of devoting my attention to this woman, the mother of my soulmate. I had to act; when she climbed out of the pool, I approached her with a towel.
"Hey Marj, have you got a minute? I want to talk to you about something," was my entrйe. Her half-smile was crooked, a lift of one corner of her mouth that reflected her uncertainty and curiosity; impaling my heart with a winsome dimple. Her eyes traveled down my body, as if searching for a clue to what I was about, and when she saw the bulge in my pants, her eyes widened in surprise and anticipation.I draped the towel around her shoulders and gave her arms a gentle squeeze, then led the way to my room, and as I ushered her in by placing my hand in the small of her back, a tremor ran the length of her body. I closed the door, then positioned her in front of the cot and with a gentle pressure on her shoulders, made her sit down on it. She didn't know what to do with her hands; they were fluttering like little lost birds seeking safe haven, wandering from the cot to her lap to her stomach, back to her lap. I leaned forward and began to massage her shoulders; gently at first, then becoming a little more vigorous, kneading and rolling my fingers down the sides of her arms. The relaxation was almost immediate. Her hands settled, palms up, on the cot at her sides; she leaned forward into my fingers until her face was almost touching my stomach, her eyes closed in a serene meditation.
"Marj," I began, and when, after a long pause, she answered with an almost inaudible 'mmmmmm...,' I continued, "I don't know where I'm going with this." I reached down with my right hand to gently knead her breast, rubbing my thumb over her nipple. "But I know it's someplace I want to be. Someplace I want us to be. Together." She was so relaxed that she allowed herself to fall forward, her face plowing into my stomach with a tender thump. As I began rubbing her back, she became so loose and limp under my touch that she slowly slid down my front, until her face was next to the bulge in my pants. I unsnapped and unzipped, pulling myself out while trying to avoid disturbing her restful position. She slowly opened her eyes and gazed at my erection, a faint languid smile touching her lips. She reached up to caress my balls, then gripped and kneaded them between her fingers. The feeling was incredible, and I couldn't stop an animal growl from stretching the back of my throat. I let her continue like that for a few more minutes; she was breathing on my hardness and squeezing and rolling my balls between her fingers, pulling moans from further back in me than I knew existed. The feeling was sweet torture; every time I thought I couldn't take any more, she pushed me onto a new level of pleasure that started the whole thing over again. When I knew I absolutely couldn't take any more, I pushed her shoulders almost roughly down onto the cot, pulling her bikini top over her head and arms and tossing it to the floor before advancing on her stomach and breasts with my tongue. Her hard nipples belonged in my mouth; as I swirled around and around those beautiful nubs, she began twitching, her head making little jerking motions as she softly moaned, "uh... uh... uh..." and her fingers wrapped themselves in my hair. My hands were busy pulling off the bikini bottom and tossing it aside as well. I kissed and licked my way down her stomach, and when my tongue found its way down to the clean valley between her legs, she began twitching and grunting, kicking me in the side with her heels. God, why did it feel so good to be kicked like that? Any other time and I'd have been fighting it off or trying to get away from it; but this felt so right, so natural and therapeutic... she tasted so good and right under my tongue, so... so... juicy, damnit, is the only word for it, like a luscious peach. An image suddenly formed in my head of Marjorie beneath me on her hands and knees, and I flipped her over and started vigorously tonguing her butt. Somehow I found the time to slip my clothes off, and then I was facing her from behind, pulling her up onto her knees until her rump was right beneath my gut, her face still buried in the pillow. Perfectly positioned, I guided myself into her waiting temple, smoothly sliding all the way into her hot, wet flesh with one motion. She let loose a little shriek when I did that, then wrapped her arms around the pillow and buried her face in it, groaning, almost singing, matching me stroke for stroke. I was almost as surprised by the level of violence I was thrusting into her with, as I was at the level of violence she was returning every time as she thrust back onto me. I was gripping her hips hard just to try to stay inside her; we were slamming into each other furiously, and as I looked up, I saw the door to my room had been opened just a crack; we were being watched. Before I could react, I realized it must be Rose, finally able to satisfy her curiosity. The door opened a little wider, and I could see that it was, indeed, Rose. She was looking right into my eyes and smiling the strangest smile, and as I returned her gaze and mouthed 'I love you,' Marjorie suddenly reached back, trying to grab me and pull me as deeply into her as she could get me. She was trembling, her thighs almost vibrating, as the first orgasm rolled over her. I felt miles away from cumming, strong and in control. I kept thrusting into her with a steady rhythm, and Marjorie was screaming into the pillow, her hoarse cries escaping from the corners as I pumped with everything I had. I lost count after her third orgasm, but it felt like she made it to at least ten before I finally reached my own climax. Just before I came, I pulled out and rubbed myself between her butt cheeks, thrusting and sliding the bottom of my cock against her smooth skin, and when I ejaculated, I surprised myself by exploding so hard that most of the shot arced over her head to splatter on the wall behind us; only as the throbbing subsided and the last few squirts came out, did a few drops land on her back. Spent, I slid my throbbing wand back into her love sheath, and we collapsed onto the cot, snuggled up into each other. Glancing over, I saw the door silently close, but not before I caught a glimpse of Rose's wild Cheshire grin. Just before we fell asleep, I covered Marjorie's neck with kisses, and she gripped my hand and hugged it to her chest; she mumbled something I couldn't quite make out, but it sounded a lot like 'love you Stan'.
I woke an hour or so later, still stiff, to discover Marjorie and her swimsuit both gone from my room. As I glanced down at my erect penis to congratulate it, I recalled that just before I woke, I had been dreaming about Marjorie sucking me. Maybe it hadn't been a dream; maybe she really had sucked me as I slept, and that's what woke me up. What a pleasant alarm clock that would be... I rolled over to get up and was startled by the sight of Rose sitting in the corner, legs tucked up underneath her and a gooey smile on her face. She was licking her lips as if savoring the taste of something that had recently crossed them, and she grinned like a maniac and said, "About time, you lazybones. Was wondering what it took to wake you... UP," punctuating her remark by holding her fist toward me and popping the index finger up and out to depict an erection. "You're as hard as a rock, Jack. Think you have one more load in you?" she said coyly. After double-checking that my door was locked, she slipped out of her clothes and climbed up on my chest, facing my erection, sliding her gorgeous little butt up until my face was buried in it. I had no choice but to start licking and sucking on her precious coochie, while she put my cock and balls through a fantastic regimen of squeezing and twisting, with a generous amount of tongue work applied to the tip. It felt like it took forever, but I was finally ready to shoot again. When I told Rose, she quickly moved around until she was kneeling between my legs, pumping my cock so fast her little hand was a blur and chanting, "Come on Jack, COME on Jack, come on Jack, COME on Jack," and when I shot my load, it was a repeat of the wall-splatter I had achieved earlier with Marjorie. Rose shrieked with delight when it happened. "I KNEW it," she crowed, "I KNEW I could get you to shoot that far. Wow! You really launched that one, you little rocket!" This last remark was spoken directly to my penis, and she leaned down to take me in her mouth and clean me off with some noisy slurping and sucking. As out of breath as I was, I still managed to gasp, "Holy god, Rose, I love you so much it scares me sometimes." Her giggle was muffled because her mouth was still full.
32 ...when in doubt, I whip it out, I got me a rock n roll band, it's a free for all... sssuck it... Free For All (Ted the Sledge Nugent)
Two days later; it was Saturday morning, and Rose wanted something. She kissed me awake as she knelt beside my cot with breakfast in bed; a couple of toasted strawberry Pop-tarts and a glass of milk. As I sat up and put my glasses on, Rose helped herself to one of the pastries, nibbling nervously at the corner. She was unusually quiet, almost pensive. "Did you sleep good?" she wanted to know. As good as could be expected, I supposed aloud. I took a bite of Pop-tart and chewed slowly, watching the play of hesitation and desire across her beautiful little face as she debated the best way to ask me something, her mouth working to shape first one word, then another. I had to laugh in spite of myself, "It's okay, sweetheart, just spit it out. What do you want?"
"Okay, okay, it's like, it's like, there's this, like, this... like, this... dance, like, coming up at school, and I, I wondered, if you'd want to, uh, like, take me or anything?" and suddenly she was biting her lower lip and gazing at me with a nervous look that was so full of hope, I could have dipped some out with a ladle.
"What, you mean, like a date?" I asked, not quite sure of what I was hearing.
"Uh, no, no, of course not, no, no, not a date, no, not a, just a... I mean, yeah, kinda, not really, just, kinda, if we could... I mean, I was hoping we could just, uh... oh Hell, I don't know what I mean. All I know is I just wanna be at this stupid dance with you so I can, like, I don't know, get your take on Brittany and her posse.At the mention of Brittany, I felt my ire rising. I already had a take on her, and I knew that I had to do something to put her in her place; I just hadn't figured out what it was yet. Rose went on, "I wanna know if you think they're really doing the stuff they say they do with their boyfriends, you know, like blowjobs and humping and stuff. I was hoping you could maybe give 'em the once-over, you know, kinda look 'em over and tell me if you think they're telling the truth about what they do with their boyfriends, or if you think it's just bragging or exaggeration or lies or whatever. And anyway, I just want to go someplace with you where there's music and we can dance!"
I had to consider my response for a few seconds while Rose sat anxiously by. "Well, how would you explain me away?" I finally ventured. "I mean, I guess it's not like prom, where you have to have a date, but I'm supposing kids probably don't bring chaperones to something like this, do they?"
"I guess not, I don't know, I've never been to a dance before."
"Well, what did your mom say about it? About going to the dance, I mean, and about me taking you?" I wanted to know. She looked down at her hands. "I, uh, I haven't asked her yet," she said so quietly that I almost couldn't hear her, then just a little louder and faster, "I wanted to know what you said first, 'cuz if you said no, then there'd be no reason to ask her."
Trying to digest all this brought a rush of conflicting emotions. From sheer force of habit, I worried about what Marjorie would say (though by now I really knew she'd say yes). I was depressed that Rose wasn't thinking of the dance in terms of having fun; or at least, the kind of fun intended. I was nervous at the prospect of being seen with Rose in a public location, fearful of saying or doing something stupid to give away our secret. And I was curious to see young girls bragging so openly about having sex. Of course, I was sure they wouldn't talk like that in front of me. If I really was going to take Rose at her word, we'd have to find some way to get them off their guard.
Marjorie surprised me a little by having to be talked into it, and Rose said she almost didn't make it. But in the end Marjorie relented and took her shopping (at Rose's request) for something to wear to the dance. That something turned out to be a silky smooth cream-colored dress with white laces down the side and a pale pink heart on the chest, a pink so faded and delicate as to be almost invisible. When I showed up at their apartment at 7:30 the night of the dance, Rose answered the door, and I was stunned by the vision in front of me. The hem of the dress was probably 3 or 4 inches above her knees, long enough to cover up what needed to be covered, yet short enough to grab my attention and not let go. At the look of awe and wonder that must have been on my face, she ducked her head demurely and smiled up at me. 'Thank you,' she whispered as she took the single rose from my hand, taking the opportunity to stroke my fingers lovingly as she did so. She whirled to show the rose to Marjorie, who just beamed at her as she fiddled with the camera, then took a picture of us, my arm around Rose's waist and her fingers making a V above and behind my head. Marjorie pressed the keys to her car into my hand and wouldn't take them back, so that was our transport to the dance.
The closer we got to the school, the more I found I was horrifically nervous over what might happen when I just showed up in a roomful of kids, escorting a girl who was young enough to be my daughter. When we got there, Rose led the way up the steps, through the blocked-open doors that led to the hallway outside the gym, and up a flight of stairs to a mezzanine that looked down on the gym floor. The facility had been done up with all the standards of a school dance: crepe strung from the rafters, paper cutouts, a scattering of chairs, and a mirror ball someone had suspended from the ceiling; and the floor populated by scores of kids moving around to the music that came from a massive sound system near the back door. Rose spotted Brittany almost immediately. I looked in the direction she was pointing and saw a little knot of five girls standing together, chatting animatedly and gesturing at the other people around them. One of them stood out in particular; her massive blond hair floated around her face, and her cleavage was in ample view. I thought I recognized her from when we had dropped Rose at her house, but she looked so different now. I pointed her out; "Is that..." I started, and Rose piped up, "Yep, that's her." Brittany was wearing a dress that was so short, if she leaned over for any reason whatever, her buttcheeks would probably be in clear view. I wondered vaguely what kind of underwear she was wearing; Rose saw the direction of my gaze and, reading my mind, muttered, "...probably just wearing a thong under there..." Gulp.
"Well, it looks like they're probably catting it up pretty good down there," I said. Rose wrapped herself around my right arm; I glanced down and saw that she seemed to be flushed, breathing a little harder than normal. Her breasts were pressing into my side, and I... Good god, when did her breasts get that big? Why hadn't I noticed it before?
Down on the floor, Brittany was doing a bump and grind, thrusting her hips at some kid on the other side of the floor. As he started to walk over to her, Rose looked up at me. "Did you see what she was doing?" she asked. "See that guy, Dean? Did you see, how she was getting his attention?" I nodded abstractedly. "I saw," I replied. "So at least she doesn't have any trouble chasing cars... the little bitch. Let's see if she knows what to do with one once she's caught it." Rose's shriek of laughter could be heard clearly above the pounding bass from below. The kid Brittany had hooked had almost made it over to where she was standing, when Brittany turned on her heel and walked away from him. He paused for a second, but when Brittany looked over her shoulder at him and smiled, he quickly resumed his advance.
"C'mon," Rose grabbed my hand, "I bet she's gonna take him to the weight room." We hustled across the mezzanine and down another flight of steps. Rose peeked around the corner, then gestured for me to look too. I saw Brittany leading Dean by the hand; they were walking away from us, and when they came to a door at the end of the hall, they ducked inside. "That's the weight room," Rose whispered, "see, I knew it. I heard Brittany say she likes it in there 'cuz it smells like guys." I wrinkled my nose; the funky odor of sweat and struggle was not one I would have chosen for a liasion. Rose led the way down the hallway, until we were right outside the open door to the weight room, but standing just in front of another door that appeared to be a locker room entrance. Rose was edging up to the weight room door and motioning me to do the same. I could hear voices, low and indistinct, then Brittany's voice came suddenly loud and clear in the stillness. "What's wrong? I thought you said you were good to go, anytime, anywhere." The boy muttered something I couldn't make out. Brittany said, "Nobody's coming, nobody's gonna see us. What's the matter, you need a preview or something? Take a look at these babies and tell me you're not..." More muttering from the boy, then Brittany snorted. "If you're not hard in two goddamn seconds..." The sounds of shuffling, of bodies moving and clothes being adjusted, told us we were in danger of being caught ourselves. Rose grabbed me and pulled me back into the locker room, just far enough back so that when Brittany came storming out of the weight room and flouncing down the hall, she didn't see us hiding there. We waited a few seconds for Dean to follow, but when I heard the sound of weights clanking, I figured he must have decided to get in a few reps to try to prove his manhood to himself. Poor kid.
We made our way back up to the mezzanine for another look, but Brittany was nowhere in sight. A couple of the girls she had been standing with were dancing with a guy; he seemed to be enjoying the attention he was getting from two women. We watched for awhile, but neither of us had any idea how to continue with the objective of sizing up Brittany's status as a whore, especially since we didn't know where she had gone. We descended back down to the main level and made our way out to a corner of the dance floor. The DJ was playing some hard-driving dance thing with a rhythm that was so insistent, I almost felt like dancing in spite of myself. Rose noticed me moving to the music, and she showed me a few of her own moves. I wish you could see her dance; so graceful, so full of energy and motion. She boogied and shook and really strutted her stuff. If it hadn't been for my trepidation over keeping our secret, I would have been insanely proud to have anybody see me there with her, to see what an absolute hottie I had attracted. We danced for a couple of songs, then sat down to rest for a minute. Rose wasn't even breathing hard, but she had broken a light sweat. I asked if she wanted a soda, and she agreed that sounded good. We exited the gym, only to find the concession stand closed, so we continued on down the hall to where the vending machines stood waiting next to the cafeteria. As we stood perusing the choices the soda machine had to offer, we became aware of low voices coming from the cafeteria. Rose put a finger to her lips and sidled up to the entrance, being careful to stay out of the line of sight of anyone in there. As we listened, I was able to make out most of what was being said. Rose looked at me and mouthed the words, "Brittany and Harmony".
"...""I don't know what the deal is," I heard a voice say, and I recognized it as Brittany, "I've never had a guy who couldn't get it up for me." The second voice, Harmony, said, "Maybe you came on too strong. Maybe he's never done it in a public place like that before." A harsh snort from Brittany: "Maybe he's a little faggot who doesn't know it yet." Harmony: "What's the deal, anyway? I mean, why did you wanna do Dean? I thought you were gonna stick with Randy for a while and see where that went?"
Brittany: "Oh for god's sake, I wasn't gonna DO Dean, I just wanted to see how hot I could get him. Never hurts to have another fish on the hook. And anyway, I'm still pissed at Randy. He was supposed to poke the Sweet Little Virgin for me, but he never even got to first base with her. Stupid cunt." I blinked involuntarily as anger came surging up, before I realized that "stupid cunt" had been directed at Randy, not Rose. Harmony giggled, "Sweet Little Virgin, that's cute. What do you care about her, anyway?"
Brittany paused for a few seconds, as if she needed to switch gears; when she continued, she said, "Sweet Little Virgin really wants to hang out with us, it's like she thinks we're hot shit or something. It was kinda touching at first, she was so respectful and eager, like a puppy dog. I WAS feeling kinda sorry for the kid, but I don't think so anymore. I mean, I felt like giving her one more shot, but she just keeps laying it on thick with the 'me too, I have sex too' act, and it's getting pretty old. She tries to talk like she knows all about sex, but it's obvious she's never done anybody. Maybe she fooled around some at summer camp or something, but as far as letting a guy poke her, nuh-uh." Harmony asked, "What makes you so sure?" Another snort from Brittany. "Have you listened to her? She has all these romantic ideas about 'tenderness' and 'love' and bullshit like the earth moving and angels singing and magic fireworks, shit that only happens in romance novels. It's obvious she never had a guy feel her up under the bleachers or try to force too much of his cock down her throat. I bet she's never even kissed anybody." Harmony laughed out loud, "Right, like you ever bother to kiss anybody!" Brittany's sneer was lightning quick, "Fuck you." A creak from the cafeteria benches told us they had gotten up. In a blind panic, Rose and I hustled back, trying to hide together on the side of the soda machine furthest from the cafeteria. Our situation was a little ridiculous, but it worked; neither Brittany nor Harmony saw us as they walked right past the vending area, and we could hear their voices continuing on down the hall as they walked back toward the gym.
I turned to look steadily at Rose; she couldn't return my gaze, and I took her chin in my hand and forced her face up to mine.
"What have you been saying to her?" I wanted to know. "Have you been talking about sex with her?"
"Well, yeah, a little. I mean, sometimes at lunch, when she's with the other girls, and she says something that bothers me, I want so bad to tell her there's more ways to do it than what she knows. I mean, she thinks she knows everything there is to know about sex, but in some ways, I know more than she does. Like, when she said she's never cum from having her pussy eaten, I wanted SO BAD to tell her that's because she's never had a real man do it, only stupid little boys who don't know how to eat pussy, and I almost did say that, but I toned it down and said maybe she hadn't had the right guy do it yet. Or like, when she said Rod tried to do anal sex on her, and she said how much it hurt and she wouldn't let him finish, and it hurt for a couple of days and she couldn't walk straight for a week after that, and I was laughing so hard that milk came out my nose, and I think that kinda pissed her off... and I couldn't even tell her the reason I was laughing was because she was doing it all wrong, and that anal sex feels so good and she really sounds ignorant when she says, 'never again'."
Of course I couldn't help but be touched and amused. "Okay sweetheart," I said, "I wasn't upset, I just wanted to know. So, maybe I'm not quite as angry with her as I thought I would be, but I'm still really put off by her arrogant attitude... anyway, I think we've found the answer you were looking for. She's not really a slut, more like a whore who uses her body to get control over guys." Rose nodded; "Thanks for doing this for me, Jack, I knew I could count on you."
I looked down the hallway; a cool evening breeze from the open door to the parking lot was pushing the thumping bass line down the hall toward us, and I felt a touch feverish. I hugged Rose briefly, then stood back to put my hand on her shoulder. "Is it okay if we take off now? We can go get something to eat..." Rose looked a little uncertain, and even a touch disappointed, and I thought she was going to ask if we could dance some more, but it only took her a couple of seconds to smile and say, "Yeah, that'd be great. I just gotta hit the bathroom first, okay?"
As we walked back toward the gym, Rose gestured down a short hallway that led off at a right angle from the large hallway we were in and said, "There's a bathroom right down there, I'll only be a minute." She hurried off in the direction she had indicated, and I stood leaning against the wall to wait for her. As I stood there, Brittany came in from the parking lot. She took a drink from the water fountain that was five or six feet from where I stood, then looked up at me as if she recognized me. I tried to smile at her, but I'm afraid it was more of a grimace.
"Hi," she said, "I've seen you before. You dropped Rose off at my house for a slumber party, I think." I nodded, unsure of what to say. She continued, "So what are you, like, her uncle or something? Or her mom's boyfriend?" I laughed nervously, "Something like that. Actually more like a friend of the family." Brittany narrowed her eyes as if seeking to size me up; "Brian, right?" I felt a little more relaxed at that. If she couldn't even get my name straight... I corrected her, "Brent, actually."
She nodded as if something had been confirmed. "Listen Brent, maybe you can tell me something. Rose has been telling me about some wonderful hunky guy she says she's been dating, but I've never seen him, and I think she just made him up. I like her, but I'm not gonna let her lie to me. Help me pin her down on this, please?" She batted her eyes at me and tossed her hair over her shoulder. My god, the little whore thought she was teasing me; she had no idea how turned off I was by this little display. She smiled a beauty pageant smile and said, "Tell me, really, does she even know any guy named Jack, or is it all just a goof?"
My head was spinning. Oh my god. Rose HAD been talking... she hadn't said who Jack was, but she had said... had said... shit... How was I going to navigate this? If I denied she knew anyone named Jack, I was confirming Brittany's belief that she was a liar, and if I said she DID know Jack, then I would be trapped into making up lies that I would have to coordinate later with Rose, or worse, contradicting something Rose had already told her about Jack, once again "proving" her to be a liar. And what, exactly, had Rose said about Jack? She must have said SOMETHING to Brittany about having sex... with Jack... there had to be a middle path I could tread... maybe I could just plead ignorance...
Rose came out of the bathroom behind me and up the little hallway. All she could see of the main corridor was the wall in front of me; Brittany was around the corner, out of her line of sight. I heard her giggle, and as she sang out, "Oh, Ja-aa-aack, guess who's not wearing any pan...", she rounded the corner and saw Brittany standing there in front of me; the final syllable died on her lips, "...ties". Brittany's mouth slowly dropped open as she looked at Rose, then back at me, then back at Rose, then back at me. Her hand came up to her mouth in a perfect "Oh My God" gesture, and she looked me square in the face and said, "Oh holy fuck, you're Jack. YOU'RE Jack."
"It's... it's ju... just a nickname," I stuttered weakly; my stomach had turned to water and my balls were trying to climb up inside me. "I don't... don't know who she... what she..."
"No, no, no no no no no," Brittany waved her hand at me to shut me up. "Oh holy fucking Jesus Mary and Joseph, she's fucking her grandpa."
That little crack was enough to pull me out of it; the surge of anger that suddenly overwhelmed me gave me new strength, and I felt strong enough to take on an army of Brittanys.
"Yep," I said, feeling a death's head grin taking over my lips, "I've been FUCKING her mom, but not anymore. This little beauty OWNS my muff-diving meat rocket now. She's a red hot volcano that has what it takes to turn my tired old worm into a steel-rod fucking machine. She's wrecked me for any other pussy."
Brittany's look of triumph died on her face as I said this. Now it was her turn to splutter and second-guess. "No, wait a minute," she babbled, "wait wait wait a minute... how... how did she get you to say that? How did she put you up to... you... LYING... sack of shit..."
"Forget it, cunt," I sneered, "you're way out of your league. Rose has forgotten more about sex than you'll EVER know. Give it the FUCK up. Whore." I turned to look at Rose; her eyes were black basketballs, and the look on her face was such a perfect mix of horror and pride that I almost didn't recognize her for a second. "C'mon, sweetheart, we've got better things to do than mix it up with some burned-out cumbag." I grabbed her around the waist and pulled her to me to give her a full-out wide mouthed French kiss, making sure Brittany would be able to see my tongue going into her mouth.Rose didn't resist, and after a few seconds, she responded by kissing me back, her leg sliding up against me as if to open herself to my newfound stiffness. With a last withering glare at Brittany, I put my arm around Rose's waist and steered her out toward the parking lot. We were parked quite a ways back, well away from the sodium-lit glare of the parking lot lights. I was walking a little too fast, and Rose was struggling to keep up with me. "Ja... Jack..." she whimpered, "what are we gonna do about... about...", trailing off because she didn't know quite what to ask. "Shh," I whispered, "I don't really know what I'm doing, but I had to do something. We'll figure it out later, right now let's just get the hell out of here." I walked Rose around to the passenger side of the car, and as I unlocked the door, I looked up to see Brittany advancing on us.
"Stop right there, asshole," she barked, "this isn't the LEAST FUCKING BIT FUNNY. You think you're so goddamn clever, but you're just making yourself look like a fucking idiot. Stop FUCKING with me, you ancient piece of shit, and tell the truth. You just felt sorry for the little liar so you thought you'd go along with her ridiculous fucking lies to try and rattle my cage. Admit it, and I might let her keep hanging around us."
I looked Brittany straight in the eye. This had turned into a battle of wills that I had to win, but I could only think of one way to do it; by proving the truth to her. I took a look around the parking lot; nobody was near us, we were completely isolated, alone and adrift in this little corner of the universe. My rational mind realized with a sudden shock what I was up to, and it threw its hands up and said, 'To hell with this, you're on your own.' My throbbing member was only too glad to take control. I was standing behind Rose, and I pulled her to me, rubbing my bulge against the thin material of her dress as I wrapped my arms around her from behind and held her close. The smell of her hair was filling my nose as my hands slid up her stomach to rest on her beautiful breasts. I massaged and rolled her nipples through the material of her dress, and she responded with a confused, "ooohhhhhh..." My hands were all over Rose, but my eyes never left Brittany's shocked and angry face. I was getting exactly the reaction I wanted, but I needed to push it further. I reached down to my fly, unzipped, and pulled my erection out, then slid Rose's dress up until her bare ass was pressed up against my hardness. As I was kissing the back of her neck, I pulled her leg up to expose her sweet little coochie, my fingers diddling and seeking the opening of her crotch. She was getting very wet, and I knew we had come to the moment of no return. Grinning at Brittany, I turned Rose around to face me, then slid my hands under her thighs and lifted her up in the air, positioning her glistening lips right over my stiffness. This entire time, I had been looking at Brittany; for just a second, I broke that gaze to look into Rose's eyes. She kissed me deeply, then pulled back and whispered, "I trust you, Jack. I love you. Let's do this." I positioned the tip of my cock at the entrance to her temple and, looking right back to Brittany, slid into Rose all the way to the hilt. Rose cried out a little, but it was a cry of desire and pleasure. I stumbled forward a couple of steps, until I had Rose's body trapped against the car. I began to thrust in earnest, kissing her neck and face as she dug her nails into my back. Brittany was beyond anger, beyond shock; she just stood there in the parking lot, watching us with her mouth wide open, her hands flexing, fists clenching and unclenching as if she were squeezing stress balls. Rose understood what I was going for; she started panting loudly for Brittany's benefit, "Fuck me Jack, fuck me hard." I obliged by doubling my stroking speed. I was going to climax soon, and I could tell Rose wasn't going to, but we both knew this wasn't about pleasure, it was about power; we were in this to put Brittany down, to make her understand how pathetic she was for slamming what she didn't understand. That thought was pounding in my head as I pounded Rose's gorgeous cunny, her arms wrapped around my neck as her head fell back. I could feel the magic about to explode, and as I kept Rose's body pinned up against the car, I pulled out and grabbed my cock with my free hand, stroking like an insane thing until my spunk suddenly exploded from the tip, to splatter at Brittany's feet. Holding Rose to me, I backed up a step, opened the car door, and deposited her limp form into the passenger seat. With some difficulty, I tucked my hardness back into my pants and zipped up, then walked around to the driver's side. As I slid into the seat, I gave Brittany an obscene leer, licked my lips, and said, "Good night, cunt. Go find one of your sad little boyfriends to drill you, and maybe we'll let you keep hanging around us. Cumdump." As we drove off into the night, I checked the rearview mirror to see Brittany still standing there looking after us, her hands hanging limply at her sides like dead weights.
I must have gone into some kind of shock, because the next thing I remember, we were parked in the back of the lot at Flinger's. I shifted in my seat to turn and face Rose, who was looking out the window. When I touched her neck, she turned to face me; shimmering tears were running down her perfect cheeks, and she slid over to wrap her arms around me and bury her face in my neck.
"Oh god, Jack, what are we gonna do? What are we gonna do? When Brittany tells someone, what's gonna happen to you? God, Jack, I can't lose you, I can't! I don't want you to go to jail!"
"Shh, shh, stop, sweetheart, stop, don't think about it right now," I murmured, stroking her hair and holding her close. "We can probably just deny the whole thing. It'll be our word against Brittany's. I don't think we have anything to worry about."
"I hope you're right Jack. I pray you're right, I pray to God you're right. Oh god, I love you so much." She took a shuddering breath, and suddenly her eyes lit up as she broke into a mournful laugh. "Did you see her face? I mean, my god, did you see her face?!?" she said.
I laughed along with her. "Yes, I did. It was incredible. We punctured her bubble so HARD!" I said. We were laughing uncontrollably now, hysterical and out of our minds with some unnameable emotion. When we finally calmed down enough to breathe, we looked at each other and, in silent agreement, got out of the car and walked into the restaurant to see what we were hungry for.
33 ...One of these nights, one of these crazy old nights, we're gonna find out pretty mama, what turns on your lights... The full moon is calling, the fever is high, and the wicked wind whispers and moans, You got your demons, you got desires, well, I got a few of my own... One Of These Nights (The Eagles)
The longer we sat across from each other in the booth at Flinger's, looking at the menu without seeing it, the more apparent it became that neither of us was interested in food. With an apology to the waitress, we ducked out of there, then drove aimlessly for a little bit, looking for some kind of distraction to keep our minds off the coming confrontation. Eventually, we wound up at the Cedargrove Park overlook, where we parked and watched the headlights coming and going on the streets laid out below us. With the radio playing softly and Rose snuggled up into me, we idly stroked each other for a long time as other cars came, parked for 10 or 15 minutes, and went on their way.
That was after we left the dance on Saturday night. We each passed a restless night, tortured by our separation. The next day, Sunday, passed with strange fits and starts. Every time I got close to a normal feeling, my tortured attention would inevitably return to our predicament, and I could tell Rose was in the same boat.
That afternoon, as Rose and I walked around to each building to take old notices off the notice boards and make sure the entryways were clean, Marjorie waved us over.
"Hey you two, I have a job for you. I got some steaks at Sav-Rite that I want cooked on the grill. It's supposed to stay nice for the rest of the night, so you wouldn't mind standing over a cozy grill for a while would you? I got some garlic bread and salad stuff and beer and root beer, we could make a real feast of it."
"Sure, that sounds great. Doesn't it, Jack?" Rose asked, her sweet smile making the whole thing inevitable. I nodded enthusiastically, and as Marjorie headed back to get the stuff ready, I whispered to Rose, "The condemned man ate a hearty meal." As we walked over to the storage shed behind the clubhouse to get a bag of charcoal from the complex's stores, Rose grabbed my hand and forced me to look at her. "Seriously, Jack, what are we gonna do?" she wanted to know.
"Here's what we're gonna do," I told her as I squeezed her hand. "We're gonna tell as much of the truth as we can and pray we can get away with the rest. I'll say that Brittany's attitude made me so angry that I lost control and pretended to grope you to try to shut her up. I'll say that I carried it way too far by picking you up and pretending to hump you but that I left my pants on, and then just deny anything else that Brittany says happened. I mean, even if it really had happened like that, I'd still be really upset and nervous over admitting it, so nobody would question my guilty look. I've got that covered. Do you think you could back me up on that, angel?"
"In spades, Jack, I could do that for sure! Oh, Jack, do you think it will work? Really work?"
We stepped into the dimly lit shed and closed the door behind us.A stir of dust particles glittered in the cool air between us, moving slowly around us as I pulled her to me and picked her up in my arms. "Sure I do," I answered. "We've suffered enough, love. This is our time. This is our right. We deserve to be happy, life owes us."
"Oh Jack, the way you say it like that, you almost make me believe it's so." Her deep sigh was intended to relieve some of the tension, and she continued, "It's been so hard not to think about it. It's terrible! The suspense is killing me. Was this what it was like for you that first week, when we were apart and you thought the police would be coming for you any minute?"
"A lot, yes," I admitted, "it was a very tense time, although what was much worse than the fear of being arrested, was the thought that I had hurt you, that I had scared you and damaged you emotionally." I paused for a moment to reflect. "After that experience, getting through this is almost easy. Don't worry about it, love, we'll get through it and come out even stronger for it. You'll see." My reward for my faith was an ear nibble as she snuggled closer into my chest, pressing her breasts up against me.
Supper was almost the pleasant diversion Marj had intended it to be, and Rose and I were able to actually come close to relaxing. After supper, with the dishes soaking in the sink, the three of us settled down in front of the television to digest our meal; Rose was sitting on the floor, sipping from a glass of wine that Marjorie had consented to, while I sat on the floor next to her and she leaned into me while I gently massaged her scalp with my right hand. Marj sat on the couch behind us, massaging my scalp as I draped my left arm back and over her thigh, to caress her knee and the front of her leg, and it was in that pleasant fashion that we passed the rest of the evening.
Monday morning was almost anticlimactic. Nothing had happened over the weekend. Apparently Brittany hadn't told anyone; or, at least, hadn't told anyone who would have run straight to the police. That fact was marginally encouraging, but we still didn't know what lay ahead. Maybe Brittany would have waited until she could report it to the school administration, in which case Rose would be called to the office for a grilling about the incident. This thought caused me so much stress that I kept it to myself; to tell Rose I feared it might come to that would only add to any pressure she was already feeling. Marjorie had already left for work as usual at 6:30 that morning, so we had that little slice of time before school to just sit on the couch in the clubhouse common room and hold each other. I used the truck to drop Rose off at school, and our kiss felt more like a goodbye than we wanted to think about. "Remember," I told her, "if any teacher or administrator says something, anything at all to you, about Saturday night, get them to call me and I'll be here immediately. There is no way I'm going to let you face this alone, love." She nodded briefly, barely able to look at me for fear of crying, and then she was moving up the steps and into the school.
There were probably a dozen things that I should have been doing around the complex, but I wasn't able to even think about any of them. I stayed in the clubhouse all day, pacing like a caged animal, never straying as far as the pool, moving from the common room to the game alcove to the kitchen and back again, always staying within a couple of seconds' reach of the phone. My vigil went unrewarded (unpunished, I guess, is a more accurate word), and by 3:00 I was in the truck and barreling toward the school as fast as I dared. Rose wasn't in the first flood of students that hit the doors within seconds after the bell rang, and she wasn't in the second wave of stragglers. She finally emerged almost a half hour later. My relief at seeing her was immediately offset by the sight of Brittany walking next to her. As I struggled to focus my attention on the situation, I realized that Rose and Brittany were chattering away, their hands flying as they punctuated their remarks with their enthusiasm. When Rose saw me, she waved excitedly, then turned to grab Brittany and pull her along as she fairly flew toward the truck.
"Jack, I told Brittany we'd give her a ride home. That's okay, isn't it? Pleeease?" she pleaded, and my shock over the strangeness of the situation was obliterated by the rush of love that washed over me when she fixed me with her pixie smile. Sighing deeply, I slid closer to my door, to indicate that I was making room for two passengers. The girls climbed in, Rose in the middle. As Rose turned to sit down, Brittany's hand shot out quickly to cop a feel of her butt. Rose shrieked and jumped, turning to look at Brittany, then they started giggling insanely. They sat, then both turned to look at me expectantly. "What the hell," I shrugged; I couldn't stop myself from feeling a bit miffed after having spent the whole day in Hell's waiting room, again, only to find out all that worry and stress was apparently for nothing, again. "I like falling down a rabbit hole. Don't bother to tell me what's going on, okay?"
"Not here, Jack, please," Rose begged, "let's go someplace quiet to talk about it, someplace private. Pleeease?" To my credit, I shut up and did as I was told. Putting the truck in gear and making my way out onto the street, I said, "Well, your mom probably won't be home for another couple of hours. Is your apartment okay?" Both girls assured me that was fine, that was exactly what they wanted.
It was a short drive to the apartment complex, but it seemed much longer. Brittany was alternately eyeing me and looking away, as if there were something about my appearance she wanted to memorize but was afraid to get caught doing it. I decided that if we were going to be in such close quarters, I might as well return the favor. Brittany did definitely look older than Rose, partly because she had a good fifteen pounds on her (most of it in her bra), and partly because of the mass of blonde hair that floated around her face. She was a miniature Pamela Anderson.
For her own part, Rose was strangely silent for the whole short trip home. She mostly looked straight ahead through the windshield, but every so often she would cast a quick glance at Brittany, and whenever she did, she would squeeze the inside of my thigh almost involuntarily, inching closer and closer to my package. What in the HELL happened between these two today? What did she say to Rose? What did Rose tell her? What were they going to... I was rabidly in the dark, wanting savagely to know what was going on, yet almost too afraid to find out what it was, lest it should be some horrible deal with the devil that Rose had made without realizing the long-range consequences of her transaction...
As we pulled into the end space in the parking lot, from the corner of my eye I saw Brittany take hold of Rose's hand and give it a good squeeze, and Rose squeezed back just as hard. Damn it.
The silence continued as we walked up the stairs and waited for Rose to unlock the door. Then we were inside, the door comfortably closed behind us, shutting out the evil prying eyes of the world. Rose turned to put a hand on Brittany's and my arms and asked us what we wanted to drink. Brittany just wanted a glass of water, and I told Rose I figured that, depending on what she and Brittany had to tell me, I was probably going to need something with alcohol in it. She exchanged a quick glance with Brittany, and after Brittany nodded at her, she wrapped herself around me and, looking up into my face with the biggest, most soulful eyes she could muster, said, "Mom lets me have wine all the time anymore in the evening when we watch TV, so I know it's okay for me. And when I was at Brittany's party, we all drank beer, so you know Brittany's had alcohol before..."
Before Rose had a chance to react, I had scooped her up and thrown her over my shoulder, presenting her butt to my face. I used the flat of my palm to paddle her ass hard enough to make an impressive sound, but nowhere near hard enough to actually hurt.
"You are a vexacious MINX, my love, and you KNOW I can't deny you anything," I said, and I turned to Brittany to fix her with a steady look that I hoped she would take as, 'If you ever do anything to threaten or hurt my Rose, I'll be doing this to you for real, and then you really WILL be walking funny for a week.' I put Rose down, but none too gently, caressing her breasts and hips as I did so. Rose retrieved the half-full bottle of sangria from the cupboard and poured a stiff belt for each of us. After taking my glass, I dropped down on the couch and stretched my legs out to use up the full length, to wait for them to start. The girls came around to the side of the couch and dropped to their knees in front of me, to sit on their legs. After an extended pause, Brittany spoke up, "I'm sorry I was insulting to you. You guys really threw me off balance and I just went kinda crazy. I swear, that's not me..."
"Thank you, it means a lot to hear that from you. I'm very, very sorry I said all those awful, ugly names to you, and I wish I could unsay them. All I can say in my defense, is that I love this little lady more than life itself, and I felt threatened for her."
"Well, after you guys left the dance on Saturday night," Brittany continued thoughtfully, "I was in no mood to do anything but go home and think about what I saw. So I did. I didn't get to sleep for a real long time that night, and I woke up super early so I could keep thinking about it. And I spent the whole day Sunday thinking about it. I thought about all the guys I'd ever..." she paused for a second, suddenly self-conscious, realizing that she wasn't talking to her usual group of friends but to a man old enough to be her dad.She actually swallowed hard a couple of times before being able to continue, "...all the guys I'd ever sucked off or let climb on top of me and stick their cocks in me...and I knew it wasn't enough, it wasn't enough to just let them fuck me, even if they bought me stuff and wanted to show me off, wanted other guys to see me with them. And I was trying so hard to remember what Rose had told me about the two of you, and wishing I had paid better attention, because now I knew it was all true, all the romance stuff, you know, like what Rose was always trying to tell me but I wouldn't listen to because I thought she was a Sweet Little Virgin who was just repeating stuff she read in fairy tales. But I had proof now that it wasn't just fairy tales, Rose was telling me about what it's really like between the two of you. I remembered there's supposed to be more to sex than what I was doing, there's supposed to be..." she started to blush, as if ashamed to admit she were losing her cynical edge, "...supposed to be, like kissing and holding hands and just laying together...like what mom and dad used to do all the time, before dad got his new job and started being gone all the time..."
"So when I got to school this morning, what do you think? Brittany's waiting for me at my locker, and she tells me she needs to talk to me, and she says it's real important, and can we find someplace to sit and talk for a few minutes, but then the bell rang and we had to go. But she put this note in my hand before she left." Rose produced the note and handed it to me. I took the lined white notepaper and read: 'rose - if we dont talk b4 lunch, pls pls BEGGING you get 2 lunch asap, have a lot to ask, very very important'
I looked up from the note, and Rose pushed ahead. "So anyway, of course I was dying to know what she was gonna say, I didn't hear a thing anybody said during the first four classes because I was so distracted. When the lunch bell rang I ran to the cafeteria as fast as I could and Brittany was waiting for me before I got there, and we went to the courtyard next to the little gym, and we just sat there and talked for the whole 40 minutes. She wanted to know EVERYTHING, I mean, like, how we met and how we got started and what our relationship was like before we started making love," Rose blushed, ducking her head and glancing at Brittany, who was just sitting there calmly watching us with an air of elevated expectation, "and, and, and, just everything Jack. So I told her everything. I mean, not EVERYTHING everything, but all the stuff I wanted so bad to tell her before, but that I just couldn't because we had to keep it a secret. And of course there wasn't nearly enough time to tell her EVERYTHING I wanted to, so I told her since we both have 7th period study hall, maybe we could talk in there, but that didn't happen because the monitor today was Mr. Stettler and he always gets so nasty when people try to talk, and we couldn't even pass notes, so we had to wait 'til school let out, and then we got to talk again at the lockers, and Brittany finally got to ask me what she was waiting all day to ask me, that she didn't get to ask at lunch because she wanted to talk to me first and make sure everything was cool, and also she didn't ask because she was scared to ask me, because she didn't know if I'd get mad, but by the end of the day she just couldn't take it anymore, so she asked me, and I told her that all we could do was ask you and see what you said. So...that's where we are now." Rose rocked back on her legs and put her hands out behind her, to look up at me expectantly. I took a few more seconds to digest this torrent, then finished my wine at a single draught.
"Ask..." I started, and Rose and Brittany both licked their lips and leaned forward, "...ask me...what, exactly?" The girls looked at each other; both opened their mouths to speak, each saw the other had opened her mouth, and each closed her mouth in deference to the other. This actually happened three times in a row, and they both started to giggle at their inadvertent dumb show. I held up a hand to stop them. Without speaking a word, I went to the cupboard where I knew Marjorie hid the rum, poured myself a stiff shot without benefit of any kind of soda, and drained it in a single motion. I set my glass on the counter, a little more forcefully than I had intended, and turned to the girls. Rose motioned me over to the couch, so I gave in and sat down again. She sat on my lap facing me, straddling me, massaging my chest while she planted a few kisses on my neck.
"See, one of the things I told Brittany about, when we talked at lunch, was something she's really really curious about. I told her how great it is, and she believes me, and she knows I'm telling the truth, but she had such a bad experience with it, and it's always been so great for you and me..." she trailed off as I raised my hand to stop her; I mumbled, "The chase, please; cut to it". Rose took a deep breath and plunged ahead, "Brittany knows what we have is sacred, and she's not asking for you to fuck her." I jumped a little at this, but Rose ignored it and continued massaging my chest as if I hadn't budged. "I wouldn't let that happen anyway. You're mine, Jack, mine all mine, and you KNOW I don't take that lightly. What Brittany wants, is, is, is..." She turned to look helplessly at Brittany, who shifted on her haunches and said, "I want...I want to get fucked in the ass, I want you to put your cock in my butthole, because Rose said you can do it so it doesn't hurt, she said you have a way you do it that makes it feel good and not hurt like getting stabbed, like it hurt when I tried it before."
"Wait a minute," I said, and I forced myself up off the couch and stood to confront them as they sat there. "Let me get this straight. Brittany, you want me to do anal sex on you because Rose told you it feels good and you think that because I can make it feel good for Rose, then I should be able to make it feel good for you, too? And Rose, you want to loan out my services to Brittany, so she can experience anal sex the right way, the way we do it?" The girls glanced at each other, then back at me, and they nodded in unison. "Yep," Rose said, "that's really about it, Jack."
I looked at Rose for a long time, and all I saw was her pride at being my woman, and pride at being able to share me with others in need. I looked at Brittany, who obliged by turning around to stick her rump out at me. She slid her pants down to her thighs to give me a good look at the goods, before pulling them back up a few seconds later.
"Okay, whoa, let's get one thing down," I said quietly, "Rose, if this is really what you want," and her eyes sparkled as she nodded at me, "if this is really what you want me to do, then you have to participate. I'm not going to do this by myself. Yes, I mean, I want you to help me make love to Brittany. It's going to be the three of us."
Rose and Brittany looked at each other for about 3 seconds before Brittany moved very quickly and decisively to take Rose in her arms and plant a huge wet kiss on her startled lips. Rose responded almost immediately, and after about 15 seconds of this, I had to gently pull them apart. "Wait up, girls," I scolded, "we can't start anything here and now. Rose's mom will be coming home. We need to find someplace else."
"My house!" Brittany jumped, "dad's still out of town and mom will be at one of her dumb little art shows until way late, like probably after 11!"
"Well, we do have to take you home some time," I observed, "guess we might as well do it now, right?"
Rose left a note for Marj that we were taking Brittany home and that we might be a while in coming back. We piled into the pickup for the brief ride over to Brittany's house, a ride crackling with nervous energy and slightly doe-eyed anticipation, and I parked in her driveway, at Brittany's direction. As we got out and walked toward the house, it suddenly occurred to me to worry about whether anybody in the neighborhood would see me entering with these two young girls, and what it might mean later if they did. Then, once again, we were behind a comfortably closed door. The dance changed key and tempo, and we all started moving just a little bit slower with each other. Brittany led the way to the stairs, and we descended into a newly-finished basement complete with a pool table. At the far end of the basement stood a long low couch. Brittany turned off all the lights except for a small hidden soft fluorescent panel in the wall above the pool table. She turned to a small stereo sitting on an end table and pressed the Play button on the unit's CD control. The smooth sounds of a gentle bossa nova filled the air, and she started moving slowly, turning and grinding her hips, her arms up over her head as if to display her breasts for my review. Rose stood up next to her and copied her moves; a little stiffly at first, but within a few seconds, Rose had caught the rhythm and was grinding along in synch with Brittany. As they moved to start slowly removing each other's clothes, I had to throw my head back and laugh. That sound brought me within range of their lust. In their underwear, they advanced and undressed me, and between two pairs of eager hands, I was naked in less time than it takes to tell. I kissed Rose under her arm and down her side as I helped her remove her bra and panties, then the two of us turned our full attention to Brittany. We were both kissing her down her sides as we took off her bra.With her full breasts bare to us, we each took one in our mouths and began to suck and lick at Brittany's nipples. The turn-on was unbelievable; to be looking Rose in the eye across Brittany's breasts while Brittany herself writhed and moaned under the touch of our tongues, made my cock so hard I felt like it was on fire. We each took one of her thighs to rub and squeeze, then pulled her panties off as we sucked on the sides of her butt.
As I gently turned Brittany over on her stomach so I could reach her rectum, I swore softly. "Brittany, we need something to lubricate. Rose and I used petroleum jelly the first time, but then I got some lubricant specially for sex. We can use petroleum jelly if you want, if you have any, but..." In answer, Brittany reached under one of the couch cushions and produced a bottle of lubricant. I should have known. I just shook my head a little sadly, and Brittany said, also a little sadly, "I put this here last night, 'cause I was hoping so hard, I wanted so bad for this to happen, I figured I'd better be ready." I took the bottle from Brittany and leaned in to give her a long, slow kiss on the mouth. She tried to put her tongue in my mouth, but I pulled back and shook my head gently. "No, babe, no tongues," I whispered, "don't force it, don't chase the magic. I want the magic to come to you." Brittany looked into my eyes, confused, then relaxed under my touch. I kissed her lips again, and Rose moved in to slide her fingers along Brittany's thighs, inching closer and closer to her opening. Again, I turned Brittany over, pulled her up onto her knees, and squeezed some of the lubricant onto her rectum. She shivered a little as I gently rubbed it in, sliding my middle fingertip gently into the opening and up to the second knuckle. Brittany cried out at that and her sphincter tensed up, gripping my finger tightly. I massaged her butt cheeks with my free hand and patiently waited for her to relax. Gradually, she unclenched, and I was able to start stroking. After it seemed like she was used to the single finger, I added my index finger, but very gently, very slowly, and both fingers slid in easily.
"Oh, god, it feels so weird, it feels like I have to take a dump," she muttered. Rose threw herself down beside Brittany to look up at her. "Yeah," she said, "I remember that feeling. It must be 'cause your hole's opening up and you're only used to that feeling when you actually do. Take a dump, that is," and she giggled. "After you get used to it, it only feels good, and not weird at all."
I squeezed out more of the lube and stroked it over my member. "Rose, come here, take a look," I told her, "this is what it looks like from my side of the bed. Are you ready?" Brittany had buried her head in the sofa cushion, apparently unnerved at the thought of the stabbing pain she was sure she was about to face. Rose scrambled around until she was seated in front of Brittany on the couch. She took Brittany's head in her hands and laid it in her crotch, rubbing and soothing Brittany's back. I began a slow massage of her neck and shoulders, moving down to her back and then gradually, gently, easily, sliding my hands across the smooth globes of her butt cheeks and kneading tenderly towards the prize in the middle. Placing my slicked-up tool at the entrance to her nether chamber, I started a slow and steady pressure on her asshole, gently prying it open with my thumbs. I started to slide myself forward, and when the head popped in, Brittany screamed. I immediately stopped but didn't pull out. "Did that hurt?" Rose asked, and Brittany shook her head vigorously, "Ow, ow, yeah, kinda, but I thought it was gonna be a lot worse." Rose hugged her head a little tighter and stroked her hair, and Brittany moved her head around in Rose's crotch. "Mmmmm, I can smell your pussy," she whispered to Rose, "wow does that smell good." Rose shifted her legs to allow better access, and Brittany buried her nose in Rose's opening, causing Rose to let loose a little shriek of her own.
"How are you doing," I needed to know, "are you okay to try a little more?" She tensed when I said that, but nodded and briefly looked back at me. I gripped her hips a little tighter and slid in a little further, always taking it just a fraction of an inch at a time and ready to stop at a second's notice. Brittany reached around to grab her butt cheeks and pull them apart, her scrambling fingers searching for the flesh surrounding her rectum so she could pull that as wide open as she could. I continued my steady advance until I was halfway in, when Brittany cried out, "OW, OW, OW, STOP, STOP, ow ow please stop." I did as I was directed, and we waited on Brittany to decide the timing. After a few seconds, she nodded, her blonde hair tickling Rose's thighs. "God, I feel so stretched, I feel so... full, I feel like I'm packed full. I can still feel the same thing, but somehow it doesn't hurt anymore, it just feels weird and... full. Do some more, please." I obliged, but still taking it very slowly. She didn't say anything more for the rest of the insertion, and by the time I was done, she was alternately panting through her mouth and licking and lapping at Rose's pussy. Rose was looking down at Brittany's head rolling in her lap, enjoying the sensations of a tongue working her entrance. She stroked Brittany's hair as her eyes fixed on the sight of my meat buried in Brittany's chute, and she nodded. "I think she's ready, Jack, it's time to do it. Show her what it's like." I pulled almost all the way out, leaving my head in, then slowly slid all the way back in to the hilt. Brittany's cry was muffled because she didn't take her mouth from Rose's vagina, but she thrust back onto me to let me know she was okay. I thrust for a few times, then again buried myself balls deep in her ass so I could stay in her as I collapsed onto the couch, pulling her on top of me. As I grabbed her hips and continued to thrust, Brittany squealed, "Oh god, oh god, oh my fucking god, oh god, oh god!" Rose grinned like a maniac and moved around into a 69 position with Brittany, shoving her little coochie up into her face and taking her first taste of Brittany's glistening folds. Brittany had wrapped her arms around Rose's hips so she could keep her mouth on Rose's pussy, and all she could do in response was emit a muffled scream. Then Rose was licking and lapping, slurping at Brittany's juice, having trouble getting to it because of the constant rolling movement of my hips pounding into Brittany's asscheeks. Then she found the rhythm, and her mouth locked onto Brittany's pussy and didn't let go again. As she licked and sucked, my fingers were brushing everything that Rose's tongue wasn't. I could feel that I was getting close to releasing my load. "R... Rose," I panted, and she nodded vigorously to show she understood, even as she continued to plow her tongue into Brittany's wetness. She looked up at me, and in the dim light, I could see she was covered in sweat; they both were, as they continued to 69 and I continued to pump Brittany's ass for all I was worth. My cock jumped, and I felt the familiar contractions as it tried to pump my semen, then Brittany's sphincter contracted like a demon, squeezing my cock harder than I would have thought possible; I was having the beginning of an orgasm, but the load wasn't coming out. The feeling continued, building and mounting, until I knew I was cumming, but I continued to stroke, and I still hadn't shot any load. Rose reached her own climax and let loose a low moan into Brittany's vagina. Brittany was trapped, sandwiched between us, her mouth still locked to Rose's pussy, as her orgasm caught fire. She couldn't even move, all she could do was lay there and tremble silently as the energy passed through us in a wave. I suddenly understood that I was about to have another orgasm, and I slowed down to take in the full experience, but didn't stop, as Rose's second orgasm took control of her, and then Brittany was spasming and twitching through a second orgasm of her own. It almost felt like riding a wave, and as my cock jumped inside her, I felt a third climax explode down the length of my shaft, and this time as I shot, the sparkles and shooting stars rose up and claimed me. When I came to, I found the three of us sprawled on the couch, covered in sweat and twitching, my cock was still buried in Brittany's ass. As I slowly pulled it out, Brittany stirred and looked around at me, buzzing with the sensation of being emptied out.
"Oh. My. God." she breathed. "Oh my god. Oh, oh, my asshole is... it's burning, it's on fire, oh god it feels so gooooooood." She looked into my eyes and said, "Rose told me... she told me about... the Little Death, but I didn't believe it, I didn't think... there could really be a feeling that was so good that..." she trailed off as words failed her. Rose stirred and sat up, and with Brittany between us, we began to stroke her body, trailing our fingertips over her thighs, her belly, her breasts, teasing and squeezing, taking full advantage of the heightened sensations Brittany's skin was conveying to her. After some five or ten minutes of basking in the afterglow, I rose to my feet and made my way to the basement stairs. "Okay if I use the bathroom to clean up a little?" I asked Brittany, and she produced a lazy smile as she pointed up the steps. "First door on the right," she said, then turned to regard Rose; I was apparently forgotten for the moment.
I cleaned up my member, washing it three times and scrubbing it almost raw to be sure, and splashed some cold water on my face. My wicked reflection was grinning at me and I couldn't get it to stop. I grabbed some extra toilet paper and took it back down with me. Brittany was laying on her stomach as Rose examined her butt close up."Ooh, I think it's oozing out," I heard her say, and I knelt down to gently wipe her clean with the toilet paper I had brought down, tenderly pulling her cheeks apart to ensure I covered everything.
After a few more minutes of idle stroking, I turned to Rose.
"I know we didn't lay out any ground rules, but here's one right now. This is NOT going to be a regular thing. When I agreed, I wanted it to be a one-time only, just an instructional thing, so Brittany could see that anal sex doesn't hurt. If she wants more of it, she's just going to have to teach one of her boyfriends."
"Oh, they never listen, they always just get so crazy," Brittany complained, "like they think they have to hurry and do it 'cause they're afraid they're gonna cum before they get it all the way in."
"Brittany, I'm worried about my relationship with Rose. I don't want her to EVER question my loyalty to her, because that is absolute. If I start having sex with other people, I'm gonna make her worry about my commitment to her." Rose started to shake her head in protest, but I held up my hand to cut her off. "I love her, Brit. I mean that, I love her more than life itself. She's the one I get up for in the morning. She's the one who holds me and makes all my fears go away. And yes, I do have fears, and yes, Rose does make them go away, just by being there. I wish you nothing but the best, Brit, but for now you're going to have to make do with just that; my good wishes." I started to pull my underwear on, but before I could pull it all the way up, Rose reached over and took a handful of my penis, then reached down to smell it. "Mmmmm, smells like soap, smells so clean." As she knelt in front of me, she hugged me around the waist and put little baby kisses down the length of my penis, then finished pulling up my underwear. She stood and wrapped her arms around me, and as I moved my tongue over her lips, I could taste Brittany's essence on her mouth.
We finished dressing in silence, and Brittany stumbled as we walked over to the stairs. We each caught her by an arm and helped her regain her footing. "Sorry," Brit smiled weakly, "my legs are still kinda wobbly from..." and she and Rose grinned at each other as they said in unison, "butt sex!" They turned to look expectantly at me, but all I could do was roll my eyes and squeeze them both on the rump.
34 ...Now you say you're lonely, you've cried the whole night through, well, you can cry me a river, cry me a river, I've cried a river over you... Cry Me A River (Julie London)
Rose and Brittany had apparently become best friends. For the first week or so, every day after school Rose would give me an account of what she and Brittany discussed at lunch. The other girls in Brittany's clique apparently joined in, but mostly to listen to Rose's accounts of her sex life, with Brittany providing moral support. Brittany had told the other girls she'd met Jack and that he had his own reasons for staying anonymous, which she had sworn to respect. According to Rose, Brit never even told them so much as Jack's hair color, but she swore up one side and down the other that Jack was a decent guy, pumping Rose up with pride when she told them, "Rose found the real deal".
Once or twice a week, the pair of them had taken to stopping at the complex after school together to spend a little time with me, before Brittany had her mom swing by to pick her up. There wasn't any sex between the three of us, and I believed Rose when she told me that she and Brittany never did anything together, although it wouldn't have surprised me if she told me they had. I certainly couldn't have begrudged her a relationship with Brittany anyway, since I was also currently in a sexual relationship with Marjorie. What the three of us did, more than anything else, was talk about sex. Brittany was glad to get solid information about lovemaking, but she also gave me a few morsels for thought; her take on "what boys want" and how her appetites had actually scared a few of them; the often lonely but always intoxicating sense of her power over boys and her fear that she might take it too far one day and get into a situation she couldn't handle.
Only one other time did the two of them ask me for a sexual favor: for Brittany to be able to watch as Rose and I had anal sex. Now that she knew what it felt like, she said, she wanted to witness the same thing as an observer instead of a participant, so she would better be able to teach others how to do it. Since it didn't involve sex with Brit, and since it could marginally be considered educational for her, I reluctantly agreed, and locked away in my room, Rose and I gave her a demonstration, starting on the cot but eventually making our way to the floor. Brit almost kept her promise to not get involved, but during the last three or four minutes, she couldn't resist and she started diddling Rose with one hand while squeezing my balls with the other. I must confess I didn't mind a bit that she did it.
The complex's meet and greet for February had been scheduled for Valentine's day. As usual, Rose and Brittany were hanging out together, sitting in a corner as they whispered and not-too-subtly pointed at one or another of the tenants, resulting in an occasional burst of raucous laughter. The turnout had been larger than usual, and the pizza ran out sooner than expected. I made a run to Leon's Tower of Pizza to pick up another three larges. I wasn't worried about the complex manager reimbursing me; while he was stingy with a lot of things, he never skimped on the food. He had made a bad impression once when the complex's owner made a surprise visit to a meet and greet that had been poorly planned, and he was determined to never get caught like that again.
By the time I made it back from Leon's, almost 30 minutes had elapsed. I set out the pizzas and straightened up some of the mess. As I turned to the trashcan to deposit some crumpled napkins and empty chip bags, I saw a blonde in stonewashed denims and a rainbow blouse, holding a mixed drink and gazing steadily at me. It took a few seconds for the image to sink in, and when it did, my legs gave way and I collapsed into a folding chair. She walked over and sat next to me, reaching out to brush the hair out of my eyes and gently stroke my forehead as she did so. "Hello, Brent," she said, and all I could do was croak, "Hello, Lilly." We just sat there gazing silently at each other for a minute or more while the meet and greet continued around us. In the back of my awareness, I could hear Rose and Brittany talking upstairs as they shot billiards.
Lilly was visibly older. The dissonance produced by my memory's trying to lay its own image of her over the real thing right in front of me was weird and getting weirder by the second. The lines radiating from her eyes seemed chiseled in place, and her sad smile produced wrinkles around the corners of her mouth that hadn't been there ten years ago. Dear God in heaven, was this what I looked like to Rose? I looked harder, and my vision gradually resolved itself enough to produce a reasonable facsimile of Lilly. She still wasn't saying anything, and I stirred myself enough to ask, "How have you been?" She made no reply for a long time, just sat there looking at me with a strange wistful expression that I didn't know how to read. When she still said nothing, I ventured a little further, "What brings you back to town? Are you visiting, or passing through, or..."
Lilly looked down at her hands in her lap for a few seconds. "Mom died three years ago," she began, and I started an involuntary expression of grief for her, but she held up a hand to stop me, "it's okay, I appreciate it but I've dealt with it and I'm fine not to go back there. So it's just been dad and me for a while, and that was okay too. When mom was around, I always had to lay low. She never approved of my approach to life, so I had to keep it hidden while she was here. When she was gone, I was free to do whatever I wanted. Dad and I never got any closer through the years, and for the first year or so after mom was gone, we almost never even talked to each other. Most evenings dad would spend in the bedroom watching TV and drinking scotch, so I was free to bring anybody home I wanted to. I could have done it upstairs with my bedroom door shut, but I didn't want to burden the old man with that, so I always took them down in the basement." She put her glass to her lips and drained what was left of her drink. She took a deep breath and pressed on, "One night, after I'd had a hot session with a cute little waitress from the coffee shop dad always goes to, when she was getting dressed to leave, I caught dad lurking outside the basement door. He said he hadn't meant to spy on us, it was just that he had a crush on the waitress for a long time, before mom died even, he was sorry for watching us and hoped I wouldn't hold it against him, he was just jealous of me because I'd had her and he didn't think he ever would. You'd think I would've been angry with him for watching me... somehow it just made me feel sorry for him, really really sorry. We sat up and talked for a long time after the waitress left, and he admitted to getting really horny when he saw us. He reminded me that he was 73 and that he didn't have any time left to hide things or try to make things seem other than they were, so he just came out and admitted it." Lilly's eyes were unfocused, not seeing the room around her as she looked into her past. "He was, just, I don't know, he was just kind of pathetic and hunched down and smaller than life, and all I could see was a man in pain. I knew mom hadn't let him touch her for... a long time... it must have been years since he'd been with a woman... So much pain... So I... I...She looked up at me, and I was startled to see an entirely new expression on her face, a kind of wistful sorrow. "I seduced him. Or, it wasn't a seduction, really, it was just me taking him in the bedroom and undressing him and climbing on top of him and riding him until he was done. It wasn't all that sexy or exciting, but somehow it just felt right. Felt like something I had to do. So I kept doing it, for a long time afterward. I never came when I did it, but that was beside the point. I was still sleeping with anybody I wanted to, but I always made sure I had at least a little left over for dad. It never really improved our relationship, we never really got any closer, but I still felt right about it." She wanted better access to the alcohol, so she turned her chair around to sit at the table behind us where the bottles were, and I followed suit. As she filled her glass about 7/8 full of Kahlua and added a splash of vanilla from the creamer that was sitting next to the coffee pot, she said, "Then dad died last year. Matter of fact, it was Halloween night. I went out to a few parties and it was after 3 when I got in. Dad was sitting up in the living room, just sitting in the dark, waiting for me. He was naked in his recliner, just stroking himself and waiting. I was three sheets to the wind, so I just stripped and mounted him right there in the chair. He was alive when I kissed him good night and climbed off of him... funny, I never even thought about that until just now. I kissed him good night that night... I never kissed him, never, not even when the sex was good, I just never kissed him... and that night, last Halloween night, after we were done, after he... shot his load... while I was still sitting on his lap and he was still inside me, I laid a big wet sloppy French kiss on him, just slobbered all over him... anyway, when I got up in the morning, he was still sitting there naked, only he was... he was gone." A wetness at the corner of her eye glistened briefly, but it didn't turn into a tear. She sighed heavily, "I guess I kissed him goodbye and didn't even know it. Funny. The ambulance guys just snickered when they told me he'd gotten laid before he died, like they thought it was the funniest damn thing in the world. Pricks. I don't think they suspected it was me. Maybe they did, I don't know, I don't care." She took an impressive pull on her drink. "Anyway, dad was pretty much broke. He let his life insurance lapse, my brothers and I had to sell the house to pay his bills. They let me have dad's old Toyota and mom's wedding ring," she held up her right hand to show me she was wearing it, "and I was glad to let them haggle over whatever was left. That was right after Thanksgiving. I headed back here because I didn't know where else to go, and I wanted to see if I could find a few old faces that might still be friendly enough to make it worth my while staying here. I got a job balancing the books at Sav-Rite and I've been staying with Patty and Marcie until..." She trailed off as she looked past me, at Rose and Brittany coming down the stairs to help themselves to some pizza. Both girls gave me greasy smartass grins, and Rose bumped the top of my head lightly with her fist. For an insane, upside-down instant, I almost stopped her, to introduce her to Lilly, before I realized I needed to think a few things through first. I turned to watch them walking off to the overstuffed chairs in the far corner, where they parked themselves and continued to schmooze while they chowed. When I turned back to Lilly, she was wearing a wry grin. "Looks like you've made friends with a few new faces," she chuckled. I gestured lamely, "The brunette is Rose, she lives here with her mom," and Lilly cut me off, "...yep, and the blonde is Brittany, her friend from school. I overheard them talking earlier, reminded me of what it was like to be young. They're so damn cute," she smirked. "They were talking about boys earlier and getting a helluva lot of laughs out of the subject. Weirdest damn thing, it sounds like the brunette is hot and heavy with some guy and the blonde is getting a piece of the same action, and they both know it and they're both totally okay with it, not a trace of jealousy. I didn't get to that point until I was 20. Hell, maybe I was a late bloomer." She took another drink, and another, then listlessly picked up a couple of potato chips and started nibbling on them. "So what about you, Brent? You're the handyman here, good going. Never woulda thunk it myself, I figured you'd always be slaving away as a shelf stocker. How you getting along? You been seeing anyone?"
I had to fight to focus on the question; just seeing her sitting there was still unreal, and I felt like I was drifting out of myself. "I, uh," I started, and I had to clear my throat a couple of times, "I've actually been kind of dating Rose's mom." It was a half-hearted admission, and I felt like I was doing Marj a disservice by not showing more enthusiasm. I was fighting through a tangle of emotions; at the top of the pile was a nervous excitement at seeing Lilly again, followed by a nervous exhaustion at the thought of the train wreck I'd become after she left, then a nervous anticipation at being in the same room with her and Rose at the same time.
"Oh," Lilly said quietly. "Are you in love with her?" The fact that I wasn't able to answer immediately gave her at least a partial answer, an answer that I tried to amend by saying, "I'm very fond of her. I think I love her, after a fashion, but I'm not in love with her. I don't love her like I love R..." I stopped so I could take stock of what I was saying, since I had just started talking without engaging my brain, "...like I love... like I loved... you, Lilly." My throat was dry and stretched; I reached for the rum and made myself my own drink, with a splash of root beer and a dash of lime juice.
"That's all I wanted to hear," she smiled. "You make all the love you want to her, sport. Just remember, I'm right here, and I'll be here for awhile. Wouldn't it be nice to feel like you have a choice? If you feel hung up and you don't know why, I don't mind. I could wait forever, I've got time." And she puckered up and blew me a little kiss as she winked at me.
I was temporarily incapable of speech. Between the frozen months and years I'd spent crying over her, and the red hot iron that was stabbing through my chest at that moment, I had no words. But I knew I couldn't leave it on that note, couldn't let her think there was a chance I'd make my way back to her someday. "Lilly," I finally managed, "I don't think it'll happen between us. I mean, I loved... goddamnit, yes, okay, I love, yes, present tense, I do still love you Lilly. I love you. But things are different now." As she opened her mouth to protest, I held up my hand to stop her. "It's not just R... Marj, it's not just Marj's feelings, although that's... that's a huge part of it. It's you. And me. It's us, Lilly. There's too much of us." She looked at me quizzically, trying to puzzle out what I was saying. I took a deep breath and tried again.
"Lilly... my own dear sweet love, Lilly of the Valley... When you left, you took half of me with you... you left half a human being behind, and I didn't have enough left to survive on my own. I needed to rebuild, but it was too hard without someone there to help me. I had nothing to work with. Nothing. I just kept sinking lower and lower... I only escaped being out on the streets by a twist of fate, but I might as well have been, for as miserable and suicidal as I was." Taking a long sip from my drink let me pause long enough to take stock of my narrative, and of her attention to it. "And then something happened. Something happened and suddenly I had traction. I could move forward again. Piece by piece I rebuilt myself. I became whole again. I took chunks of a world empty of you and I molded them. I became another person. I made a workable life for myself. And now you've returned, and you brought back the half of me you took with you when you left." I could feel a single tear welling up in the corner of my eye, and before I could recall it, the little bastard slipped loose and started sliding down my face. "And I'm drowning in it. I can't breathe right now, Lilly, I'm actually suffocating from the weight of the past you've just dropped on me."
"I'm sorry to hear you say that, Brent," she smiled sadly as she reached out to gently wipe the tear away with her thumb, while the palm of her hand caressed my cheek for a second, "because tonight I'm not only here looking for old friends. You remember I was telling you that I've been staying with Patty and Marcie? Well they just signed a lease here today. They asked me if I want to bunk with them for a little while longer, here, until I can make other arrangements. The manager was a little too creepy about it, he told them it was fine for me to sack out here for 3 or 4 weeks and if I wanted to stay past that, he could just shoehorn me into the lease after the fact. Practically licked his lips when he talked about shoehorning me, the randy little assclown." I was in the process of taking a drink when she said this, and her pronouncement made me do a spit-take through my nose; my face was burning from the uprush of lime and the sudden injection of the knowledge that she was going to be around all the time. She burst out laughing and, after catching her breath, she squeezed my thigh, stood up (a little unsteadily), and winked. "Gimme a minute to hit the bathroom, hon, I have to pee like a goddamn sumbitch." Hearing the old profanities from her brought a pleasant glow, a glow that she easily picked up on, smiling seductively over her shoulder at me as she walked off.Damn everything in the world to bloody flaming miserable excruciating hellfire. God Damn Everything. I didn't even know who or where I was. Rose. Damn. What was I going to tell Rose? And Marj? For that matter, what would I even tell Brittany? Or, good God, what was I going to tell Lilly? For an insane few seconds, I tried to picture myself pleasing everyone, having sex with Lilly and Rose and Marj and Brittany... for god's sake... might as well have sex with the manager while I'm at it...
No. No. Absolutely... I had to do something about this... With no clear idea of what to do next, I stood up and looked around for Rose, but she was nowhere to be seen. Maybe Brittany... no, she must have been with Rose, wherever that was... as I was turning around in circles trying to get my bearings, looking for anyone or anything to help me out, Lilly returned and wrapped her arm around mine. "How about this," she said, her smile having become vaguely mischievous, "why don't you take me back to your place for a little quiet talk? Scouts' honor, Brent, no funny business, all I want to do is just talk a little longer, but someplace quiet, someplace private." What the hell... although I had no idea what was going to happen next, I knew with dead certainty that I was not going to cheat on Rose; with that as an anchor, I figured it wouldn't hurt to follow Lilly's lead, at least until I had adjusted enough to find my own way through.
With her arm still wrapped around mine, I led the way to the back of the clubhouse, toward the pool area. Lilly was a little puzzled at our direction, then she broke out laughing.
"I'm such an idiot," she gasped, "everything changes... I assumed you'd still be in the same apartment you were when I... when we... parted ways. What happened, they give you a nicer place when you started working here?"
"Not exactly," I mumbled, my half-hearted smile trying to mask my profound embarrassment at my current state, and I opened the door to my room and ushered her in. "This is it," I told her, "home sweet home, ha ha." Lilly looked around, then turned completely around in a circle, as if she expected there to be more to the room if she only looked in the right direction to see it.
"This... is..." she put a hand on the dresser, tracing the line of a five-year-old scratch that snaked its way across the top, and looked down at the cot. "You... you sleep here... and..." A bizarre look was beginning to claim her expression; it was like watching the shadow of clouds rolling over the ground, shaping and reshaping a solid surface. She took a couple of steps over to the cot, turned around, and just before she sat down on it, she said "Squeak." Then she sat, and as if in response to her pronouncement, the cot answered her with a loud squeak. She looked up at me in shock, then stood and walked back to the dresser. As I watched in confusion, she opened the top drawer, reached in, and lifted the false bottom, to pull out the stroke book that had rested there, almost forgotten for many months now. She held up the magazine and extended it toward me as if she were making an accusation of some kind. "Yes," I acknowledged, "that's my porn, but you're the last person on earth who should be shocked by it...", before it finally hit home that she knew, she already KNEW before she reached in and pulled it out, that it was there. The strangeness of the situation was slowly beginning to sink in. Lilly looked around the room again, as if looking for a hidden camera, or maybe a door that would lead to another room; and finding nothing, she let the magazine fall to the floor, then turned and walked out of the room. I kicked the magazine under the cot and followed her out, trailing limply in her wake and trying to grasp what was happening.
Lilly slowly made her way back out to the common area, drifting as if in a trance, her sleepwalker's gait producing a profound sense of unease in me. She continued in this unearthly fashion until she was back at the chairs we had been sitting in earlier. She parked herself, grasped her mug, and freshened her drink. She took a sip, and another, and another. I sat next to her at the table. "What..." I started, then "how... how did you..." Lilly looked at me, her expression completely unreadable, and she said in a whisper, "How old... are Rose and Brittany?"
"How... what?!?" because I didn't know what else to say. "How... old? What do you..."
"How old? C'mon, Brenty, not a hard question, how old? How old is Rose?"
"She... she's 13," I said, the light beginning to dawn on me ever so slowly, "why are you asking me this?"
"I knew the cot was going to squeak before I sat down on it because..." she paused to lick her lips while she tried to figure out what she was going to tell me, "because... I heard Rose and Brittany talking about it," she looked at me with a haunted expression. "I heard them talking about Rose's guy, talking about his room... not his house, or his apartment, but his room... I thought at first they were talking about a boy, about another kid their age, and his room at home... but then they were talking about how much his cot squeaks, and how they wanted to figure out how to get him a proper bed. I heard Rose talking about a dresser with a scratched-up top, where the top drawer has a false bottom with a porn stash... and when I saw your room, and the cot and the dresser, everything just fell into place." She sat there with her chin resting in her hand, a look of bewilderment like I'd never seen on anyone before. "That's who you found to replace me. A 13-year-old girl. I don't know whether to be more disturbed over what that says about you, or what it says about me. Did I so wreck you for any woman that came after me that you had to take it back to source?"
She knew. She knew the truth, there was no sense in denying it. Lilly was far too smart to fall for any line of crap I might try to feed her. I gritted my teeth and swallowed long and hard. Finally, I tried to answer. It was a struggle; for so long now, I had kept this secret... "Lilly, you knew me better than any person on earth, you were the best part of my life. Even the misery at the end, when we didn't touch for so long, I still loved you, so it was still the best part of my life. Did I ever strike you as someone who likes little girls? Or more as someone who, when he loves, does it with his whole heart, no matter who it might be? You've known loneliness, Lilly, but you've never had to endure it if you didn't want to. You've had so many men and women, you could have had your pick. You don't know the cancerous nature of loneliness, the real searing emptiness that's constantly devouring you, nowhere to run from it, no way to hide. Rose and I do, we've been there. We were just trying to survive, to keep our sanity."
Lilly slammed her mug on the table; an arc of Kahlua and creamer landed mostly outside the mug. "I'VE never known loneliness?!?" she said, suddenly twice as loud. "How dare you? You don't know what kind of Hells I've been through!" Then, much quieter, almost a hiss, "Lots of lonely people find companionship and still keep it in their pants," As soon as she said it, she knew she'd gone too far. "Okay, yeah, I know, hypocrite number one, right here. I'm sorry. It's just, Jesus, Brent, she's thirteen. Thirteen. You're forty." She held up four fingers, making a stabbing motion at me with them, "Forty." Lilly reached over for the bottle and refilled her mug almost to the rim, then downed most of it at a gulp, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. Her eyes drifted to my hair. "I hate to tell you this, luv, but you have a few grey hairs showing." I reached over to take a handful of her blondness. "It's harder to see on you," I countered, "but you have 'em too."
She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, her hand resting delicately on my thigh. She pulled back for a second, then leaned in a little closer. I turned my head to present my mouth to hers, but I didn't pursue it, just waited for her. The smell of Kahlua on her breath was as intoxicating as if I'd drunk it myself. Her pause lasted perhaps three or four seconds; in that interval, my heart was stretched out on a cross somewhere in a desert wilderness, waiting to see if she would reclaim it... when the pause climaxed with a blissed-out sloppy joining of our lips, followed by an increase in the pressure and warmth of her hand on my thigh, I felt like my insides were melting. God, I had missed this so much, Lilly's kiss, had been dying for it for so long, forever, it felt so incredibly good to kiss her, to feel her warmth pressing up against me. It was like falling into a pool of light and floating away. Her kiss was so different from Rose's... at the thought of Rose, I instinctively pulled back.
"God, Lilly, I'm sorry," I said, "I've been waiting for this for so long, I do love you, but I can't do this to Rose. I love her too, Lilly. As much as I love you, but in a different way. Believe it or don't, as you will, but I do love her." Lilly sat back, looking stunned and angry for a second, then she dissolved into a look of pure love as the alcohol in her blood reached critical mass.
"My God," she blurred, "once a boyscout, always a boyscout. That's what I was missin', Bren'. For as many guys as I been with, that's all I ever really needed, just one goddamn boyscout. One... knight in shining amor... armor... You, Bren', I needed you, cuz you were the bes' thing that ever happened to me, and I never knew it till it was too late." She was starting to mist up, and I knew that in another second or so, I would see something I had never thought to see: Lilly crying. "You were jus' this big goddamn' puppy dog that followed me ever'where, until I got so fuckin' sick of it that I couldn't stand it no more."You were so goddamn' dependent, Bren', you couldn' never get along without me... jeez, how was I s'pose' t'know I'd miss THAT so fuckin' bad?" The tears were rolling now, and they couldn't have been hurting her any more than they were me... my vision was blurring, I wiped my face and found that it was wet. In the middle of the watery blur my world had become, I saw Rose on the other side of the room, looking at us sitting together. I couldn't make out her expression, but I thought I saw Brittany standing behind her, with a hand on her shoulder. My arm jerked up, a puppet move, as I gestured lamely, blindly, uselessly at her, not knowing what signal to give, my hand cut off from anything I would have known as reality; I didn't know whether I wanted her to stay or go, didn't know what I wanted.
"Rose," I breathed, scarcely able to hear my own voice for the pounding in my chest, "this is... is..." Rose gripped my hand and squeezed hard. "Lilly," she finished for me, her breath an almost reverent whisper, "this is Lilly." The only response I could manage was a numb nod. Rose and Lilly sat there experiencing each other, each for the moment completely bathed in the attention of the other. Caught between those two gazes, I was adrift in a pocket universe of feminine regard, a regard that was not FOR me but ABOUT me. My head was drifting apart, and with some sense organ other than my nose, I became aware of an aroma, a scent, a sensation I had never known before or could have even dreamed existed, that burned my lungs like a rarefied ether.
The meet and greet was beginning to show serious signs of winding down. We had garnered some highly interested and bemused looks from old and new tenants, and for the first time, I didn't care. I was floating, flying, freewheeling on a cloud of pheromones that convinced me I was going to live forever. Patty and Marcie drifted over to let Lilly know they were going to hit a few bars and that they were more than a little interested in having her join them. Lilly's beatific smile as she dumped them (for the evening, anyway) was met with a knowing wink between Patty and Marcie, followed by a couple of hand gestures between them that I had never seen before, but which seemed like graphic depictions of some kind of deviant act.
Somehow Rose, Brittany and I had all surrendered to Lilly on a primal level. We were taking our cues from her, following her in some weird mystic conga line that only the four of us were aware of. She led us to her new digs, Patty and Marcie's basement-level apartment, and the girls and I watched Lilly as she did her impaired best to get the key into the lock. Rose put her hand on Lilly's to steady it, and when they inserted the key, they looked at each other for a second, and with one accord, they began to slide the key in and out of the lock, in and out, in and out, pumping, humping that lock, until they collapsed into each other in a fit of divine amusement and tittering. Lilly smiled up at me, "Oh, I like this one, Brenty..." Brittany snorted and reached over to turn the key in the lock, and we all fairly fell into the apartment, a tangle of legs and arms and hearts and spirits and Goddess only knows what else.
When they had finished, Lilly staggered to her feet and stumbled to the kitchen. Turning on the faucet, she stuck her hand under the stream and leaned down to drink noisily from her palm. When she was done, she came back to the living room and, leaning against the doorway, she favored us all with an angelic smile.
"Well, 'at was nice," she said, "but I think I need to call it a night, kids. 'at was prob'ly a lil bit more than I shoulda done. Gotta lil bit drunker than I meant to, and I ain't as young as I usedta be." She stepped over to Rose and stroked her hair. "Sorry, sweetie, but I couldn' help myself. You were a good sport ta share him with me jus' now." We stood and walked to the door. As Rose stepped out into the hall, Lilly gave her a kiss on the cheek. As Brittany stepped out, Lilly gave her a kiss on the lips, accompanied by a practiced squeeze of her rump, and Brittany and Rose shared a wide-eyed grin over what that portended. As I went to step into the hallway, Lilly pressed her body up against me, trapping me against the wall just inside the door. She kissed me for a long time, but not an open-mouthed whore's kiss; it was almost timid, shy, but with an intense heat behind it. As she broke the kiss, she put her lips against my ear and whispered, "I love you," then she turned me around and gently pushed me into the hallway and closed the door.
After we left Lilly, the girls and I made our way back to the clubhouse. The meet and greet had pretty much wound down, so I started on cleanup and putting the chairs away while Rose and Brittany shot billiards. When I was done, I noted that it was getting late, so Rose and I drove Brittany home. On the way there, the girls wanted to know what Lilly and I had said to each other; they were particularly curious to know about her apparently casual acceptance of my sex life. I told them about our conversation in excruciating detail; not by choice, but because the girls kept hounding me, determined to squeeze out every last morsel, interrupting me to clarify points and making me back up to repeat certain items. When we got to Brittany's, the inquisition was not over by even half, and we just sat there in the driveway while they continued to interrogate me, holding my feet to the fire until they were satisfied.When they were done, Brittany leaned across Rose to give me a kiss on the cheek and a squeeze on the thigh; as she pulled back, she smirked and muttered something that sounded like "goddamn stud." She gave Rose a hug and a peck, and then she was gone, slipping into her warmly-lit home.
Rose was quiet on the ride back. She laid down in the seat to rest her head in my lap, and I was absently stroking her hair and savoring the pressure on my leg. When we got back and I parked in the lot behind the clubhouse, neither of us stirred immediately. The way she laid there, not moving, her arms tucked up to her chest, made me feel a little uneasy. Eventually, I stirred and took her chin in my hand, turning her face up to look at me.
"What's wrong, love?" I asked. "Feels like you're not all there."
For a long time, Rose said nothing, just gazed up at me in silence. Then, "So she's going to be living at the complex now." I nodded. She took a slightly shuddering breath, then, "Jack, did you ever think you'd see her again? Did you ever wonder what would happen if she came back into your life?"
My sweet, tortured angel. My poor, poor baby girl. I had to clear my throat a couple of times, then started trying to pick my way carefully (but truthfully) through an answer.
"After she left me," I said, looking through the windshield at the night sky to help me focus on remembering the misery, "for the first couple of years, I tried to make her come back out of sheer willpower. I'd spend hours on end thinking things like, 'Lilly, please come home, Lilly, please come back to the one who loves you.' But time has a way of wearing us down, of making us adapt to realities. Little by little, I stopped my wishful thinking. So then: did I ever think I'd see her again? No, not really; when I got all the wishing out of my system, I accepted that wasn't going to happen. The second one is a little harder to answer. Did I wonder what would happen if she came back?" We sat in silence for a few seconds while I considered my answer; then, "No, my love, I don't think I ever did wonder that. I never thought about how my life would proceed once she was back, I wasn't capable of thinking that far ahead. My need was so immediate, and my hunger was so great, that I couldn't get past her actual absence." I glanced down at Rose. She was still looking up at me with the same pensive expression. Looking back out the windshield, I tried again, "Even though I'd finally accepted that I wouldn't ever see her again, that didn't stop me from playing the 'what if' game over and over and over, trying every variation I could think of to see what I could have done differently, to keep her from walking out. In the end, I gave up, not because I ran out of variations, but because none of them ever led to her staying. I came to realize it wasn't just me that was the cause of it, it was also Lilly. It had been Lilly's choice to leave, and in the end, it would have to have been her choice to come back. Since I didn't fully understand why she left, I didn't have a prayer of understanding what it would take to make her change her mind." I looked back down at Rose; she didn't look any happier. "But I'm not that person any longer. I don't need her anymore, she's out of my system. Something happened to that broken-down, miserable wreck of a man, something that brought him back to life. Something wonderful. Something beautiful and thrilling. I found someone who wanted me." Rose smiled a sad little smile. "Hey," I said, "is that all I get?" I started tickling her until she was screaming with laughter and hitting my arm to make me stop. "That's better, that's the Rose I needed to see," I told her. We got out of the truck and I walked her to the door. She wrapped her arms around me and buried her face in my chest, then looked up for a goodnight kiss that lasted ages, and I felt like we had made it past another hurdle.
The next morning, Friday, Rose came to the clubhouse at 6:30; she must have been out the door the second Marjorie left for work.
"Hi angel," I greeted her, and she threw herself into my arms and hugged me tighter than she had for a long time; so tight that she actually started to squeeze the breath out of me, her little grip like iron, and I felt my face crease in a sad smile as I reflected on the bittersweet nature of love. Eventually, she released me. I sat on the couch, and she pushed me into a reclining position and laid down on me so she could rest her head on my chest. Her hair, her wonderful hair, filled my face so that the entire world became a tangle of sweet brown strands. "What's up, love?" I asked. For a long time, she didn't answer, just lay there with her hand through my shirt, rubbing my chest and playing with my nipples. Eventually, she stirred and raised her face to mine for a long, tender kiss.
"Jack," she whispered, "I feel weird. Trippy, kinda. I slept last night, but I don't know for how long. Mighta been a couple hours, mighta been only five minutes. I was having this weird dream, where you were knocking on the door of the apartment, and you started to open it, I saw your hand start to come inside, but then it was gone. I went to open the door for you, but my hands were slippery, they were dripping with something weird that kinda smelled like perfume, it took me a long time to get the door open, and when I got it open, you weren't there. My heart sank when I saw you were gone. I looked for you but I didn't find you, I called but you didn't answer. I was walking down the street looking for you, and I saw some policemen driving around, I stopped them to ask about you, but they started beating me up. I tried to tell them about you, I was describing your hair and your eyes and your lips, and they started pulling my clothes off, but I wasn't scared, I was just sad and lonely, really really lonely." She took a deep breath, then another and another, and I realized she was smelling me, taking in my scent as if she needed to memorize it. She closed her eyes and continued, still whispering, "After I woke up, I just laid there for a long time, but I knew I wasn't gonna get back to sleep. So I got up and tried to watch TV, but I couldn't concentrate on anything I was seeing. Sometimes I felt like I was having a panic attack, then I felt almost calm, kinda floaty, and I was just wandering around the apartment all night, from the bathroom to the kitchen to the living room and back again. I even laid down next to mom for a little bit, but that just made it worse." I was stroking her face as she told me this; her forehead was warm, even a little feverish. I slipped my fingers under her shirt from the bottom and stroked her back, and in response she rolled her head back and forth on my chest; it reminded me of a kitten snuggling up for comfort.
"Sweetheart," I started, and suddenly she moaned, a long drawn-out wail of existential despair and angst.
"Oh God, oh G-G-God," she sobbed, "Jack, how can you want me? Sh-she's so, she's so beautiful, and so sexy, and she's as old as you are, she's a grown-up woman, and you were in a grown-up relationship with her, she's not some stupid little goddamn kid, and she wants you now, she wants to have sex with you now. How? How, Jack, how? How can you want me? How can you want a stupid little kid like me? How can you love me? HOW?!?" She gripped my shirt, taking a handful of flesh with it. Hurt like hell, but that had to be nothing compared to what she was feeling. I glanced at the clock; school wouldn't start for almost an hour. Prying her hands loose, I got up from the couch, picked her up in my arms, carried her back to my room, laid her on the cot, and locked the door. I removed all my clothes, and as I stood there naked before her, her eyes were roving over my body, absorbing the sight of my bare flesh. I knelt down to kiss her tears away.
"Rose, listen carefully. You are my beloved. That means I love you. You. I am in love with you, you are the apple of my eye, the heart of my heart." I began to slowly and deliberately unbutton her shirt, and as I helped her out of it and laid it aside, I said, "You have stolen my heart with one glance of your eyes." I removed her shoes and set them aside. "Your love is delightful, more pleasing than wine." I pulled her pants off, dropped them on the floor. "Your lips are sweet as honey. When I kiss your open mouth, I taste it, I taste milk and honey." I kissed her tenderly, and she responded passionately, opening her mouth to me and tracing my lips with the tip of her tongue. I removed her bra and took a deep smell of the fabric, smiled at her, and as I stroked her breasts, I said, "You are my garden, you are my orchard. You are ripe as choice fruits and finest spices." I bent to take her nipples in my mouth and taste her gorgeous flesh, and she moaned and shivered at the touch. Pulling back, I slid her panties down her legs and removed them. As I traced my finger between her legs and into the folds of her labia, I felt the wetness that was starting to claim her. "You are a garden fountain, a well of flowing water." I gently rubbed and stroked between her nether lips, rejoicing in the sweet fluid, and she gasped, arched her back and reached for my manhood. Climbing on top of her, I guided myself to her opening, then slowly but firmly pressed my way in, little by little, backing off, moving forward, until I was buried to the hilt, my chest grazing her breasts as they rose and fell beneath me. Once I was completely sheathed in her, I just lay there, not thrusting or moving, simply laying on top of her. "Do you feel that?" I said as I looked deeply into her eyes. "Do you feel me inside you, joined to you? We are one flesh now, one complete whole."I placed my hands on either side of her head and held her gaze; I kissed her forehead, her nose, her lips, and continued, "There may be many queens in the world, my dove, there may be many consorts fit for kings, but you, my perfect one, are unique. You, the only daughter of her mother, the favorite of the one who bore you; my dove, you are, alone in the world, the only one who can lay claim to my heart." I kissed her again, then took her hand and placed it on my chest, holding it there while I said, "This, that you feel beneath your precious fingers, this trembling organ that pumps my blood; this is yours, my love, it is yours to cherish or crush as you will. To you, and you alone in all the universe, does this belong. I can give it to no other, because it is no longer mine to give; it is yours." I carefully rolled us over so that I was laying on my back with Rose perched on top of me, taking care to remain inside her. As I caressed her back and her tender rump, she placed her lips on my throat and used her tongue to send shivers down my spine. A single tear rolled down her cheek to touch her joyful smile as she told me, "Thank you, Jack, thank God for you. I love you... daddy. Forever and ever."
Her nightmare had broken, transformed into a waking dream, and it was in that dreamlike state that we eventually roused and got ourselves dressed. There were no words between us as I drove her to school; there was no need. As she turned to get out of the truck, she took my hand and placed it on her chest, over her heart, and her look said more than she could have ever spoken. Driving back to the complex, I reflected that my relationship with her was, in many ways, more mature, more adult and "grown-up", than anything I had ever had with Lilly.
Lilly. Ye gods. What was I going to do about her?
36 ...What's new, how is the world treating you? You haven't changed a bit, handsome as ever I must admit... What's New (Linda Ronstadt)
I had a few chores to do around the complex that morning, but nothing that couldn't wait. The pool was empty, and I had a rare moment of feeling like I wanted to be in the water, like I needed a sense of buoyancy, of being able to just float in complete relaxation for a while. I changed into my swimsuit and walked down the steps, then slowly made my way out to the deep end, where I lay on my back and closed my eyes to shut out any visual distraction. For a long time, it seemed, I just floated there; serenity seemed to spread out from my lungs with each deeply drawn breath, filling my chest and limbs. My head was blessedly silent, the nagging cloud of doubt and worry vanished by the calm emptiness. I was so relaxed that it didn't even occur to me to wonder what was happening when someone's hand placed itself lightly on my back and pulled me gently through the water. When another hand touched my thigh, I slowly opened my eyes. I was looking up at a bemused Lilly; she had apparently pulled me into the shallow end and was standing over me, watching me with a wry grin. I stood up and gazed at her in mild amazement.
"Jeez, Lilly," I spluttered, "don't you have a swimsuit? You can't be in here naked!"
"No," she laughed, "I don't have a swimsuit yet, but I'll get one, I promise. And anyway, I'm not naked, boyscout, see?" She slipped her thumb under the string of her thong and twisted it to show me. "Besides, there's nobody here to see... nobody I wouldn't want to see, anyway!" she ended with a high-pitched laugh... the one she used to use when she wanted to get me to do something without having to talk me into it. She shook herself at me so that her breasts bounced back and forth, and she husked, "If you're so worried about it, cover 'em up." She reached down and took my hands in hers, pulling them up and placing them on her breasts. "Is that better?" she smirked. I was about to remove my hands and start scolding her, but almost involuntarily, I gave her breasts a little squeeze. "Wow," I murmured, almost more to myself than to her, "the years have really been kind, Lilly. They're so round and soft and... juicy..."
"Glad to see I haven't lost everything," she said as she stepped closer. Her hand dipped under the water and reached down to my crotch, where she took hold of my half-erection. "Looks like you're not completely disinterested." I released her breasts and stepped back, until I was out of reach of her grasping hand.
"No, Lilly," I croaked, "this isn't going to happen. Last night was... was..." I had been going to say it was a mistake, but Rose's (and Brittany's) presence meant it hadn't been completely wrong. I was suddenly unsure of myself, lost and uncertain.
"That's okay, boyscout," she laughed. "To be honest, I think I might have been disappointed if you let me follow through. Not as disappointed you stopping me, maybe, but..." She turned and waded toward the steps, where she retrieved and donned her bra. As she slipped into her shorts and t-shirt, she said, "Maybe it was kinda weaselly of me to test you like that, but you came through with flying colors. Rose's champion." This last was said with a shade of envy and regret; maybe I imagined it, but I thought I heard a challenge in there as well. Lilly sat at a table and patted the seat next to her. "Come sit for a while. Let me just look at you, anyway. That's not breaking any rules, is it?"
Damn you, Lilly. Well... what the hell. I pulled the secret Bacardi stash from behind the towel cabinet and showed it to her. I managed a little grin as I told her, "No glasses. Or ice. Do you want to..." She made a reaching motion, so I walked over and handed the bottle to her. She uncapped it and took a healthy swig, then handed it back and made a gesture with both hands to indicate that I should do the same; so I did.
"So," she began, after what seemed like an eternity of us just sitting there looking at each other, "Rose seems like she knows her way around manflesh... around yours, anyway. Did you break her in, or is she giving you sloppy seconds?" I had to laugh in spite of myself. Lilly's profane way of dealing with the world was raising some very warm memories.
"Rose was a virgin when we met," I told her. "She was ten at the time," Lilly's eyebrows shot up into the stratosphere at that and she lunged forward in her chair, so I hastened to add, "ten when we first met and became friends, but it wasn't until a lot later, until after her twelfth birthday, that it turned into a physical relationship. And we didn't fu... didn't have intercourse... until she was thirteen." Lilly sat back and exhaled noisily.
"Jeezus, Brent, you almost gave me a heart attack! You gotta be more careful about what you tell me."
"Sorry," I smiled sheepishly, "sometimes I forget what it looks like to the world at large. Honestly, my sexual attraction was the last part of the friendship to form. Before that, all the other pieces came as they should have. We were friends first... BFFs if you will... and then it turned into a father-daughter feeling, before the last piece of the puzzle, the physical romance part, developed."
Lilly was quiet for a long time. She took another pull on the bottle, but continued to sit there in silence, just gazing at me. Then, "So, what's the story with Brittany?"
"Mmmmmm..." was all I could manage for a few seconds. I squeezed my eyes tight, trying to decide what and how I should tell. Well... in for a penny, in for a pound, right? I took a deep breath and plunged in; told her about grade school, and junior high, and the way Rose's and Brittany's relationship had developed. When I got to the night of the sleepover, Lilly interrupted me with a hand on my arm. "You really have been dating Rose's mom? I thought that was just a cover story... so you've been banging Marjorie too? Oh my God! Take one from the boyscout column and move it to the Studinator side!" At the look I gave her, she pursed her lips and said, "Sorry, please continue, I have to know how this comes out." I pressed forward, paraphrasing Rose's narrative of the sleepover, then moved on to tell her about the night we went to the dance and the way Brittany learned our secret. When I described the parking lot showdown, Lilly's eyes grew huge, but she didn't say anything, just kept shaking her head. Finally, I came to the meat of it, the 'story with Brittany' that she wanted to know about; the arrangement that she and Rose cooked up, and how they shared me. When I finished, Lilly slid down in her chair, seemingly exhausted. She started giggling, and in a few seconds she was laughing uproariously.
"So you plowed her in the ass," she gasped when she caught her breath, "plowed her in the ASS!" And she started laughing all over again, tears rolling down her cheeks, until she finally collapsed, spent. "Oh my God, boyscout no longer! You are one studly goddamn stud! You assfucker, you!"
Lilly reached for my hand across the table, and I obliged. We sat quietly for a long time after that, just holding hands and watching the reflection of sunlight as it bounced off water in the pool. Tenants came by to swim; a young woman and her little boy, and later a couple of twentysomething guys with buzzcuts. Lilly stirred, caught my attention. She leaned over and, very quietly so as to ensure that nobody else could hear her, said, "So Rose doesn't mind farming you out for a little anal action? Are you up for a piece of this?" She gripped her armrests and wiggled her butt in her chair to punctuate her remark. I gave her a sad smile before telling her, "Not my call, love. You'll have to ask Rose." Lilly's mouth dropped just a little and she shook her head. "For real?" she asked, "You really have to get her permission to..." I held up a hand to stop her and said, "I'M not the one who has to get permission, sweetheart. YOU are.Lilly put her hand to her forehead and slowly pulled it down over her face, rubbing her chin, before saying, "I was wrong again. Take that marker out of the stud column and put it back on the boyscout side. Wow." She stood to leave, came around behind my chair, leaned down to me, and put her mouth on mine. This time I didn't resist, and we shared a long, tender kiss, which she finished by moving her lips to my ear and whispering, "I really do, Brent... I love you." She squeezed my shoulder, then she was gone.
By the end of the day, I was feeling a little trepidation about Rose. She had seemed okay when I dropped her off in the morning, but her self-doubt and fear had been so strong... was our early morning session really enough to reassure her?
I discovered soon enough that I had nothing to worry about. When Rose came bouncing in after school, her sparkle and joie de vivre had been restored, and all was right with the world.
"Brittany's not coming?" I asked, then immediately regretted it, because Rose snickered and smirked, "Oh, she cums like a freight train, babe!" Her howl of delight was a shot of sorely-needed comfort. It was so good to have my Rose back where she belonged. As she helped herself to a root beer from the machine, she tossed her head and said, "Brit's got cheerleading practice, she'll be at school for a while." I nodded, admiring the curve of her butt; so full and firm, and I felt a twinge in my chest.
"So listen, Jack, Brittany and I were talking after school, and she told me Lilly and I are kinda like sisters!" I goggled at her for a few seconds, trying to digest this little morsel.
"You mean, because you've both been in a relationship with me? That's not quite..."
"That's part of it," she gushed, "but it's also 'cause we've both boffed our dads!" And she shrieked with laughter. "I mean, you've been a dad to me... well, so much more than that, of course, but really, babe, you're my daddy, you know that!" She paused to wait for confirmation, so I nodded expectantly. "So we're both fatherfuckers! Ah-hahahahaha!!!" She put down her root beer, ran across the room, and jumped up at me, so high that I had to catch her; and staggering, I tripped and fell backward on the floor, Rose landing on top of me.
"Oh God, oh my God, are you okay? Are you hurt?" she gasped, and all I could do was laugh and nod. "Are you sure? You're not hurt?" It was my turn to smirk, and I fixed her with a lewd sneer and said, "Who's your daddy?"
Epilogue ...I'm taking the time for a number of things, that weren't important yesterday... Fixing A Hole (The Beatles)
I woke at 4 AM the next morning, Saturday, feeling strangely immobile. I lay on the cot for a long time looking at the ceiling, thinking about the women in my life, considering each one in turn. From there, I drifted toward a reverie on my life in general. Eventually, I managed to get up enough energy to wander out to the kitchen area and make myself a pot of coffee. Standing at the window with a fresh cup in my hand and watching the sun's slow rise, I found myself looking in the direction of Rose's and Marjorie's apartment. Their apartment... with bedrooms and a bathroom, a kitchen and living room. And closets; closets, that were separate little rooms for storing things, not for living in. I turned my gaze in the direction of Lilly's (and Patty's and Marcie's) apartment; same setup. I thought about Brittany's house, and all the rooms she had, and how her storage closets were just that; closets, not living spaces. After slowly making my way back to my room, I sat on the cot for a while and stared at my dresser, and at the walls that seemed to be closing in. How had I managed to function with these people, without being totally humiliated at the nonexistent quality of my life? I had friends, I had love, I had things worth living for... so why then had I allowed myself to remain in this dank little hole?
I had to do something. I had to get out of here, get back to human habitation. I wasn't ready to start sponging off of Marjorie, or Lilly, but action was required.
I took a shower, dragged a comb across my head, made my way out to the kitchen and drank another cup. Looking up, I noticed it was getting late. I found my coat and made my way out the door. Feeling flat-footed, I wandered over to Rose and Marjorie's building, found my way upstairs, and knocked. After a few seconds, Marjorie opened the door; she was looking tousled and rumpled, her robe hanging open to reveal her shimmery nightgown. I started to stutter an apology, but she just grabbed my arm and laughed.
"Don't be stupid, get in here. Stud." She pulled me into the apartment, shut the door, and greeted me with a warm kiss that lasted so long that by the time she was done, I was as hard as a rock. Taking me by the hand, she led me to the couch, pushed me down on it, then plopped down on the other end and rested her feet on my lap, taking a second to wiggle her toes against my erection. "So what can I do you for, Brent? I think Rose is still asleep..."
"Actually, I wanted to talk to you, Marj," I said, then suddenly found I was unsure of where to start or what to say. I took a few deep breaths, trying to collect my thoughts. "I'm not a mole. I'm not a hobbit. But I live in a hole. I live in a... a storage room. A goddamn closet. I don't know why it hasn't embarrassed me until now, but it should have. And now it does. I need to change. I need to start being a man again. I need to... Marj, I think I need to find a job and start earning a living. I need to be able to support myself. I need to be able to support a... support a family..."
Marjorie's smile was one of quiet amazement. I wondered at the change in her expression; was my 'recovery' such a source wonder and mystery? She licked her lips and shifted her position, coming over to sit next to me, her leg pressed up against mine, one hand squeezing my thigh and the other on my forearm. "Brent, this is incredible! My employer is just winding down from a full-tilt hiring process. They've hired four new groups of people for data entry, and they're just getting ready to finish up the hiring process for the fifth and final group. Next Tuesday is the last day they're taking applications. You just have time to get yours in! Oh my God, it's so amazing that you just told me this today! It's like... like, I don't know, like divine intervention or something! I thought about telling you before this, but I didn't know if it would sound pushy or rude, I didn't want you to think I was trying to control you or run your life! Oh God, Brent, this is perfect! I know someone who knows the hiring manager, I know she can get you in! Oh...", and she climbed on my lap to throw her arms around me and pull me into a bear hug. I felt dazed, hugging her back and wondering anew at the strange turns in my life.
Rose appeared at the door, her babydoll nightie hiked up over one hip, her hair wild and frizzy around her face; stretching and yawning, she said, "What's up, guys?" Marjorie jumped off the couch and pulled Rose into her arms.
"Get dressed, baby girl, the three of us are going out to breakfast! We've got something to celebrate!"
After breakfast at Walt's, we headed back to their apartment, where Marj sat next to me at the computer as I completed the online employment application form. The section where I was supposed to list previous employers was a bit of a slide; I was sure the manager of the complex had me officially enrolled as an employee, so I had no qualms about listing that, but it felt a little strange all the same. Marj laughed off the rest of it, assuring me that her friend's connection to the hiring manager was tight, and she was rock solid certain I'd get in. When the online application was complete, as I clicked the Submit button to send it on its way, I felt a little light-headed, and I realized that the simple act of submitting, of actually taking control of my life again, had given me an erection. Rose noticed it right away; her first reaction was a smirk. As she grabbed her swimsuit and a towel, she told Marj she was going for a quickie swim, placing a weird emphasis on the word 'quickie'. The second the door slammed behind her, Marjorie grabbed my hand and pulled me into the bedroom, where she attacked me with the fury of a starving woman, ripping our clothes off with an inhuman hunger. She wanted to be on the bottom, and she wrapped her legs around me and pulled me into her with a feral growl, "Plow me, Brent, rut me, fuck me hard, make me HURT!" I obliged by slamming it in and pounding her with a savage joy, her wails sounding like singing, a wordless cry of satisfaction.
Just as she had said, Marjorie's connection came through. Monday afternoon, I got a call on the clubhouse phone; would I be available to come in for an interview the next day? I spent the rest of the afternoon in a daze of delight. Rose's smile when I told her was radiant, and our lovemaking session was as soft and tender as my turn with Marjorie had been hard and vicious.
Tuesday morning saw me waiting nervously in the lobby, wearing the outfit Rose had picked out for me the night before. I had hoped to see Marj's smiling face before the interview, thinking she might be able to pop out to the lobby for a few minutes, but no such luck. 'Well, this is your time,' I told myself, 'you need to man up and do it on your own.' I noticed that the girl at the front desk was giving me a few looks, and she initiated a conversation about the weather. Her obvious interest was a warm fuzzy; I had been ready for the interview before, but now I was stoked, raring to go.
She was interrupted by a chirp from her phone; she picked it up and listened for a moment, then hung up and turned to me."Your interviewer is ready for you now," she said with a smile just a little too wide and warm to be the standard business smile. She got up from the desk and came around to walk me through to the interview, her smile still just as warm, and I'd have sworn she fluttered her eyelashes at me just the least little bit; then she put her hand in the small of my back to guide me forward, her breast just grazing the side of my upper arm. We made a journey of some 50 feet or so in this pleasant fashion, and she guided me into a small office with an oversized desk, my interviewer rising to greet me. "Brent," said the receptionist as she gestured toward the interviewer, "this is Iris." | null | null | Authors/Coeur_Minuit/rosenjack.txt |
115,933 | null | The Blonde Waitress | Years ago when I was in the Army, I went with a detachment of around 500 soldiers to a small town in Northern California. Our presence overwhelmed the town and surrounding area, and we became a feeding frenzy for girls of high school age to married women of all ages. Me, well, I liked the mothers more than the daughters and took up with that crowd. They were not demanding, and all had a car.
When I had first come to this small town, I met a young blonde married woman who worked at the local restaurant. During slow times at work, she would sit and talk endlessly with me. She may have been my age or slightly older, but she was somewhat naive and seemed to me, by her speech and actions, to be much younger. As she would talk about her marriage, I could see flashes of a young teenager in her face. In her eyes, not always, but occasionally, I would see a look of panic.
One afternoon, she drove by when I was walking back to the barracks and asked me if I wanted to take a ride. There is not much to see, so she asked me if I was driving, would I take her out in the desert. I, of course, said yes, I would do that and probably make a pass at her. Off to the desert we went on a well-worn road that eventually ended at the town's unofficial dump. She stopped at a place where she could pull off the road and turned to me and said, "What would you do now?" So I moved in on her, and we were kissing and pawing on each other like teenagers. It ended with her blonde head in my lap with her lips around my dick. It was my first-ever complete blowjob. At that moment, I would have married her.
She had to be at work in a couple of hours, so she asked if I minded going home with her so she could change. So the ride ended at a trailer park home she shared with her husband. She had me duck when she pulled alongside her home. We went into her house, and she began changing into the uniform she wore to work. She got as far as her bra and panties before I shoved her back over her bed. In those days, twice a day was easy. I remember that day especially because we were both nude on her bed, fucking, and I could see out the window just above her head the next-door neighbor cutting his lawn. He could also see us. He kept looking through the window of her bedroom as he made circular patterns in his rounds. The shade was up, so I pushed the small curtain aside so he could get a better look. He made his turns, walking slower and slower as he passed her window.
The girl was pretty, with soft blue eyes that would change brightness with her mood. Pretty blonde hair, and a very sexy mouth. A mouth that could take the strength from a man's legs. Her breasts were large and soft like pillows. Her inner thighs were also soft, and because she was young, I thought she was just losing her baby fat. She was a very unhappy woman; she had gone directly from a small high school where she was special because she was dating an older man, to the initial excitement of marriage. The man she married was 9 years her senior, a big difference in age considering she was only sixteen when they married. It was not long before the excitement of marriage ended, and the realization that she was becoming her mother became evident. She knew her life lay out before her like a straight road with no exits. Routine and boredom would now be her constant companions, interrupted occasionally with excitement garnered from another man. To witness her rebelling against the inevitability of her life saddened me.
Perhaps she confided in me because I could understand and empathize with the position she found herself in. As for me, well, I had learned early in life not to have any scruples about fucking another man's wife. In fact, when doing so, my goal was to impregnate her with my child. I believe, like other animals, we human males are always more excited with the pleasure of taking another man's pussy. For a time that spring, we fucked in her house, in her car, and once with her leaning over a picnic table. I can still see her large white breasts spread out on the table, and her hands grasping each side as I pounded her hard and fast from behind.
We did not officially end the affair or say goodbye. It ended when she ran away with another soldier for a weekend in Reno. She did return to her husband, but her family gathered around her and kept her away from places she could come in contact with other soldiers. They did this as if guarding the soldiers against her. I am, however, confident that she did not go willingly into her life as a wife and mother, but instead, I believe she lived the rest of her life in a state of quiet and absolute desperation. | null | null | Authors/the_widower/The Blonde Waitres.txt |
115,998 | Orestes | Resume | You can tell a lot about someone by the blanks she leaves on a job application. The little gaps in her job history speak volumes. A question left unanswered is like a confession of past wrongs. People expect me, as the Human Resources manager, to read what's in a resume, but I've always felt that it's what's NOT in a resume that tells me something about a person.
Sarah Courtnall would be in my office in a few minutes, applying for a position with the company. What position? Well, there's the first blank on the application form. Her resume shows an education in accounting and several years of experience in the field, but she didn't fill it in on the application. Maybe she needs a job so badly that she's willing to accept a position in data entry or in secretarial work.
Her next blank was left in her job history. A four-year blank, in fact. My mind filled with various scenarios. Usually, there would be an explanation - going back to school, raising a young family, whatever. Usually, the applicant would explain this in her cover letter, which in this case was notably absent.
Finally, a real no-no. She had left blank the question about whether she'd been convicted of a criminal offense. I puzzled over this one. If she had been convicted, it's surely something she'd either put down on the application or lie about, but not leave blank. If she hadn't been convicted of a crime, she'd surely put down "no." Was it a case pending? Was she hoping that I wouldn't ask?
There were a whole host of omissions in this application. Personal references, contact numbers at her previous employer (as if that would stop me from calling), even an emergency contact, in case of illness or accident.
Of course, what's in a resume can say a lot too. Her address was in a very bad part of the city. A slum, really. Her age, 32 years old (pretty young to be down and out). There was an old certificate proclaiming her to the honor roll at her college, and an old reference letter from her first employer, praising her as "promising."
With the job market so slim, I knew that our advertisement would bring people out from the woodwork. We were one of the few local companies, based on our strengths overseas, that was hiring right now. This put me in a position of power, which of course, I would never consider abusing if I thought the applicant had any real potential of advancing in the company (an exercise in self-interest, I assure you). This girl, well, I'd have to see.
I buzzed the intercom and asked Madeline to send in the next applicant. I stepped up to the door to open it a crack. I could hear Madeline down the hallway.
"Mr. Kowalski will see you now, miss."
This sound, followed by the hurried clicking of Sarah's steps towards my door. I returned to my desk and watched her enter the room.
The woman had dressed well for the occasion. She wore a coordinated blue blazer and skirt, a nice blouse, and carried an attaché case under her arm. The clothes were a bit out of style, perhaps a leftover from when she was the head of the A/R department of her previous employer some years back, I speculated.
But, god, was she nervous. I stood to shake her hand, and she almost tripped over herself in her approach to the desk. She was a skinny thing, maybe a little too skinny for my tastes, with a bra size to match. Her face was fairly nice with striking green eyes, but a few stress lines showed through the makeup surrounding them. She must have been a really attractive girl before the drugs took over.
That's what I decided had happened. The gap in her job history, the ambiguity about a criminal conviction, her address in a heroin-infested neighborhood, her "almost-too-thin" appearance, they all pointed to a recent drug addiction. Was this a part of her attempt to kick the habit?
"Good morning," I said, "Please have a seat."
"Good morning," she replied. I think she must have caught on to the way that I was eyeing her. She seemed yet more self-conscious as she took a seat across from me. I know I was leering, but she still had legs she could be proud of.
I pulled out her application and turned over to the page where I'd find what I wanted.
"There's no answer here," I started, "about criminal convictions. Are there any?"
I sure knew how to start things off on the right foot. I could almost feel her heart sink as I asked the question. How quickly she dropped her attempted self-confidence was a thing to behold.
"I...uh... wasn't sure how to answer," she stuttered. "I mean, I ... um ... entered a court-ordered program to treat my problem."
"That counts as a conviction," I offered. "You should answer 'yes' to that question on applications."
A short pause, as the tears welled up in the corners of her eyes.
"What's your addiction to?" I pressed further.
"It was heroin, but I swear, I'm off of it. I've been clean for six months now."
"I see, and that's why you've been out of work for some time."
"Yes."
She was trying so hard, I almost felt sorry for her, but I was getting that predatory feeling instead. I could have this woman.
"I'll tell you what, if you're really off the drugs, I can do something for you," I said.
"Really," her eyes lit up.
"If," I continued, "you'll do some naughty things for me."
She didn't know what to say, and it showed. Her mouth hung slightly open in an anxiety-inspired pause.
"Just say, 'Anything you want' and we'll get started," I coached.
Her mouth was slow to react, but did nonetheless.
"Anything you want," she said, and it was music to my ears.
Just to seal the agreement, I pulled out the 'New Hire' form from my desk. She watched as I filled out her particulars and checked off 'accounting' under 'Department'. At the bottom of the page, I signed my name and dated the form. When done, I placed the "New Hire" form face-up on my desk.
"It's right here," I said. "All you have to do is bring this form to the personnel office across the hall, and they'll finish the process."
She wanted this badly. You can always tell when an addict wants something badly.
"But first, let's see that body of yours."
She stood, still self-conscious. She began to unbutton her blazer.
"That's not sexy enough," I interrupted. "I want a strip tease."
She looked downwards and began to do a little strip tease for me. Not bad really, not enthusiastic, but not bad. I think it really bothered her to be doing it in her nice outfit. I was loving it. I loved getting that good first glimpse of her bra, that first look up her skirt to see her little cotton panties. By the time she got to taking her bra off and stepping lewdly out of her panties, I was hard as a rock.
I pulled open another desk drawer and removed a tube of lubricant.
"Lube up your ass," I demanded. "Bend over the desk and lube it up good for me."
She looked at me pleadingly.
"Not in the ass," she begged.
I just held out the tube for her and allowed desperation to make her decision. God, what a nice view. I told you she still had great legs, and her ass was wonderful. It was pure pleasure to see her bent at the hips over the edge of my desk, with her middle finger pushing lubricant up her ass for me.
"Keep working it in there," I said. "I need to get ready too."
From where I was, I was in good position to reach her face. I unzipped myself and pulled out my cock. Now, I'm not going to say I've got an eleven-inch dick. In fact, I'd say it would be just slightly above average, and I'm a fairly big guy anyway. It is, however, good and thick. I stood and slapped it against her lips in an unspoken command. She took it.
"Mmmng, that's a good little cock sucker. Get it ready so I can fuck your ass."
She was pretty good at this. I wondered if she had turned a trick or two to support her habit. I watched as she continued to work her fingers in and out of her tight little ass with the lubricant. Obedient too, I liked this girl.
I pushed my cock further into her mouth until she began to gag.
"Keep on sucking," I warned her. She did.
When I'd had my fill, I pulled out and remained with my cock positioned in her face for a while.
"Lick my balls."
She worked my balls gently in her mouth, all the while lubricating her ass. I was getting a bit overheated and stopped her short.
I retrieved a condom from my desk drawer. There was no way I was going to risk getting a disease from some junky. I began to walk around the desk, and Sarah froze, knowing what was coming next.
I pulled her hand away from her ass and slipped a finger of my own in.She was nice and tight. This was going to be good.
Anticipation is a wonderful thing. I put on my condom and placed my cock at her rear entrance, and then paused to savor the moment. Was that muffled sobbing I heard from Sarah? So much the better.
Slowly at first, I pushed my cock into her ass. She'd done a good job of lubricating, but there's just no preparing for the real thing. I heard her gasp as the head went all the way in. I pushed harder now, enjoying the pressure of her tight little hole.
"Take it, you junky whore," I said with venom as I pushed all the way in. She began crying again. "Fuck, yeah," I continued. "Are you used to getting fucked for money?"
I couldn't believe that I was getting close to cumming after just the first stroke. I tried hard to hold off. As a distraction, I took the time to lean forward and reach under Sarah to grab hold of one of her little tits.
When I began to move my cock in and out again, I knew I wouldn't last long, so I decided to give it to her hard right away. I grabbed hold of Sarah's nipple with my right hand and gave it a nasty little pinch before really going to work on her ass. I gave her probably a dozen violent thrusts before feeling my balls explode.
"I'm cumming in your ass, you dirty drugged-out whore."
With that, I filled the condom and collapsed on Sarah's back, breathing heavily. She lay there, sobbing quietly.
When I pulled out, went back to Sarah's front side, and pulled off my condom.
"Here's a little something for you," I said, as I discarded the used condom onto the side of her face. She just lay there, silently sobbing, with the cum leaking down her cheek.
"I'll leave you alone now, to clean up before you go to the personnel office. Don't be too long. There are some tissues in this drawer," tapping on the top drawer of my file cabinet.
With that, I locked the rest of my drawers and went out for lunch.
I wondered how long it would take Sarah to compose herself. I sure hoped that the tissues would help. I kept them in the top drawer along with most of the things I'd confiscated from dismissed employees. Well, things like drugs, if you must know. Why, there must have been a week's supply of heroin in that drawer.
Speaking of which, it's a good thing Sarah had quit the habit, as I happen to know that the personnel office conducts mandatory drug testing on every new hire. | MF nc | null | Authors/Orestes/resume.txt |
116,053 | null | Hello Mary Lou | Young teen has a crush on friend's mom and ends up with friend's little sister.
(Under-age sex between teen boy and younger girl.)
It was pretty incredible. Why hadn't I thought of that before? It was like I had Mary Menson's pussy tightly wrapping around my stiff cock. Actually, I was at my buddy's house, taking a piss in their downstairs bathroom, the one built as part of the laundry room. Mary, to me, was the hot mom years before the idea of "Hot Mom" or "MILF" hit the internet.
I had spent the last thirty minutes staring at Mary's nice round ass right there in their kitchen. And, at the camel toe her plump little pussy made in her light green short shorts that was visible when she faced us. How did this not seem strange to her husband or her four kids? I mean it was right there! HELLO PUSSY SLIT!
Well, it was killing me. I walked kind of bent over and sideways to the bathroom door and closed it silently behind me. I had to wait for my hardon to go down enough so I could piss. Then as I finished, I saw them - Mary's underwear in the clothes hamper, crotch up, beside the washing machine. Leaving my dick out, I went over to take a look.
It was like getting a look at heaven. I poked at the light-colored crust with the damp spot in the center. Jesus! Stuff from Mary stuck to her panties. I picked them up and inhaled a deep breath. My heart raced a hundred miles an hour. She either ran around wet and aroused or the old man had recently fucked her. Comparing it to what I knew of my own cum, it looked like Mary ran around hot and wet on her own.
I gently picked the panties up and rubbed them on my again hard fifteen-year-old cock. Shit! That felt good. I smeared the dampness around on my shaft. That quickly turned into my hand wrapped around my cock and my friend's mom's panties. I was jacking off like a son of a bitch. Probably didn't last a minute until I sprayed my cum across the lavatory and onto the lower part of the mirror.
My experience at jacking off had been going on for years. Usually with Mary Menson as the object of my desires, I'd unload my balls into whatever was handy to contain the mess. But, this! This was real. Or, as real as I could imagine. I cleaned myself up to go back into the kitchen. I looked at Mary's panties with thoughts of somehow getting them out of the house. The fear of getting caught caused me to carefully place them back in the clothes hamper like I had found them. I sat down in the kitchen thinking everyone knew what I had done.
"Can you stay for supper with us?" Mary offered.
"No, thanks, I have chores to when I get home."
I had gotten off the bus at Ron's house on the pretext of helping him with his chores before we played a little catch with the baseball in his yard. Instead, the chores went fast and we never got out of the kitchen to play outdoors. Given the choice, I'd rather sneak a glance at Mary Menson than play catch any day.
Ron and I didn't know each other until the bus route changed. He was a year younger than me. He went unnoticed by me until the route change. Ron had a lot of cash to spend from his allowance his dad gave him. I didn't notice this until we were in town getting candy. Ron whipped out his money and paid for mine, too. I usually didn't have any cash unless I skipped my lunch at school. So, I either wouldn't be able to get candy unless I missed a meal or just sneaked around and stole it when the old couple that owned the grocery store in town weren't watching.
Either way, the contrast in our lives was remarkable. My father worked construction, and we had a very small farm. My old man had no idea what an allowance was, except some rich city kids got one for doing nothing.
Ron's dad was a farmer. A well-to-do farmer that inherited the family farm. They had all kinds of cool shit. Even a gas furnace for winter heat while my old man had me chopping wood for the cast iron stove.
So, I'd go to Ron's a lot and help get his chores done so we could play with his shit. They had go-carts, a dirt bike, basketball goal, and his dad even built them a backstop for baseball. All I had to play with was an old dog that would run first thing to piss on my pillow if my sister let him in the house.
And, they had Mary Menson. I went on about her ass and crotch, but there was sure nothing wrong with her tits. Further sneaking around in the hamper revealed 34C-Cup bras that must have spilled over considerably considering the milkers on Mary. She was pretty much a strict little bitch with her kids. Always made sure things were done and everything in its place.
If I was at their place a lot, it even got worse after the panty crotch adventure. Normally, being guys, we'd piss in the yard against a bush or head for the back of the barn. But, after that, I'd hold it until we were inside. The next day I was in their bathroom. I could take a leak later. I looked into the laundry hamper. There were those green short shorts she had been wearing forever. I looked them over. In fact, they looked about ready for the rag bag. Panties were twisted in the legs like she took them both off at once.
The panty crotch was just like the day before. Crusty center where her pussy would be and a spot still slightly damp inside of that. I held them up and took a deep breath through my nose. Holy fuck! It was like I had my nose against Mary's hot pussy. I got them away from the short shorts and wrapped the gooey part around my dick and began to stroke.
That was my routine for weeks after that. Most weeks three or four times, and when not at Mary's, I'd be home jacking off thinking about her. Matter of fact, Mary was the first woman I ever jacked off to in my life. Most young guys would pick a girl from school or a teacher. Or, maybe their own mom or sister. Not for me. My mom was a large woman, and my sister made the dog look handsome.
I would have been eleven or twelve when I learned what masturbating was about. Guys joked about it, but I was stroking my cock thinking about Mary Menson when I felt kind of funny. Then this sticky stuff ran out the end of my pecker. God, why didn't someone tell me about this?
So, I had been shooting cum while thinking about Mary for about four years when this bathroom idea came up. Actually, the dad had just recently added the second bath and laundry that summer. That making life easier for Mary and heaven for me. After the first week or so, I'd put my tongue on the panty crotch to taste how a woman would taste before beating off with them wrapped around my shaft. Mary Menson tasted great!
Mary had her kids one after another. Ron was fourteen. He had two brothers thirteen and twelve, and a sister Lou that was eleven at the time I was having my love affair with their mom's underwear.
Ron's brothers seemed to have a world of their own, and Lou was just Lou, the girl the dad wanted so badly. Sometimes Lou would try to hang around with us until we would say something mean to her to get her to go away. There wasn't much to Lou, a skinny kid with a penchant for wearing her hair in pigtails. Not that she was ugly. Matter of fact, she looked a lot like her mother. You know how I felt about her mother.
Then one day I was into my routine in the bathroom after helping the boys tease Lou about getting a training bra. I looked at her. I couldn't tell much about the bra and didn't see anything to put in one. I considered it a rite of passage. Afterwards, Lou sat watching TV with us. She kept looking at me funny, then started unbraiding her hair. She combed it out and put it into a ponytail.
"What do you think?" I realized Lou was looking straight at me.
"Uh... okay, I guess. What's with losing the pigtails?" I was caught off guard.
"Well, if I have to wear this training bra, I need to look more mature."
Everyone laughed at what she said. Except me. I didn't see a problem or anything funny about either situation.
Later, she kind of cut me from the herd, so to speak. Ron got up to do something else. When I looked around, it was just me and Lou on the sofa.
"I saw what you did in the bathroom." She smirked and gave me a look.
"What?" Thinking my life as I knew it was over.
"I saw you in the bathroom with Mom's panties. The door doesn't always close all the way."
Suddenly, she was up in my face, locking her eyes into mine. My glance went to her hair. She waited a moment. Then, with a smile, she kissed me on the lips.
"If a girl kisses you, aren't you supposed to kiss her back? She teased.
When she leaned in to kiss me again, I kissed her back as best I knew how. Hell, I didn't know anything about kissing a girl.
"That's better. Almost like you might like me."
"Like you? Yes, I like you, but shit Lou, you are only eleven years old!"
"I'm twelve now," She asserted. "You were at my birthday party."
Things were silent for a few moments. We could hear Ron starting back to the room.
"I'm not going to tell Mom."
"What?"
"I'm not going to tell Mom about you and her panties and what you did.""But, you owe me."
She tossed herself back on the couch as Ron came back in the room, oblivious to anything that had happened.
He handed me a can of coke and opened his as he sat down.
"Hey, I might have wanted a coke, too," Lou protested.
"Here, you can have mine," I offered. "Don't say I owe you anything."
Lou stuck her tongue out at me. For a twelve-year-old, it was kind of sexy.
The whole deal messed me up for the bathroom thing. I couldn't just stop using the bathroom at their house, but I didn't dare let Lou catch me again. Almost like a drunk tempted into falling off the wagon, I'd look towards the hamper. Finally, there was a pair of Mary's panties right on top with the crotch exposed with a nice glob showing. I decided against it. It would be a lot safer to jack off when I got home.
Turning towards the sink to wash my hands, I noticed the door had come open a crack. Thinking the worst, I nudged it open to find Lou there with an accusing look on her face.
"What? I didn't do a God Damned thing!"
"Yes, I know. Good for you."
Then she pushed me back in and closed the door. Turns out that everyone else was out in the yard. We could see them out the bathroom window.
"Did you like kissing me?" She asked.
"Yes, I did. It was nice."
"Why haven't you tried since?"
"Didn't have a chance."
That was mostly to cover the fact I hadn't gotten over her being my best friend's sister and the fact she was eleven, make that twelve years old.
"Well, we have the chance now."
She had been looking hotter to me in a dangerous sort of way. The ponytail made a lot of difference. She pressed her little chest against me and stretched on her tiptoes for a kiss. With me at almost six feet, I hadn't noticed that she had to be a couple of inches below five feet tall. Lou needed a serious growth spurt, but as I bent down, our lips met.
I started kissing her and really didn't want to quit. She really made it nice. After a minute or so, Lou swirled her tongue against mine. I caught on and returned the favor. So we kissed maybe two minutes, maybe ten. I don't know.
"Wow! It was different sitting down before," I was gasping for breath.
"We aren't always going to be sitting down. You better get used to it."
"Oh, there is going to be more?" I teased.
"Oh, there will be more. You can't run fast enough to get away from me."
"I bet I could."
"We better get out of here before someone comes looking for one of us."
"Hey, where did you learn to kiss like that?"
"I read about it in a book. Some books, actually. Fuck books. They were in a box in the attic, up on a shelf. The box said 'Mary's Fuck Books' on the top flap. And, don't look at me like that. I might just be twelve, but I know what 'fuck' means."
"Damn. What's in the books that teaches you how to kiss like that?"
"Not so much kissing. They are about women who fuck a lot of people. You know, like slut wives, women fucking around on their husbands. Women that can't get fucked enough in their marriage. I think that's why Mom always has soggy panties. Not the fucking a lot, but thinking about it."
"Jesus Christ! Does your dad know?"
"It was his handwriting on the lid of the box. I've got a couple of books hidden in my bedroom now. You want to read them before I put them back?"
Lou really caught me off guard. The last ten minutes with her really opened my eyes about little sisters.
"I just can't walk out past everybody with your dirty books in my hand."
"I didn't say dirty books. I said 'fuck books'. Remember? Twelve years old. Knows what 'fuck' means. I'll drop them down in the weeds past the mailbox if you want them."
Then she gave me another kiss with some tongue and walked away. That's when I noticed she was getting a cute, round little ass on her. She must have known I was watching as she put a little wiggle in it and turned around and stuck that tongue out again. I don't know when she put them there, but when I left, the books were in the weeds with a note.
"Enjoy! I Love You!"
Hopefully the "I Love You" part was just teasing, although I was beginning to like the little shit with the kissing and the sex talk. Having her say "Fuck" blew my mind.
The books were fuck books alright. One was about a high school girl that couldn't get fucked enough by the boys in school and the school principal. The other was about a hot wife and how her husband took her out to bar scenes where his wife got fucked by various guys. I must have jacked off twenty times in the three days it took me to read them. No wonder the little cunt knew so much more about sex that I had ever thought about knowing.
Visits to the Menson's got a little more self-conscious. Lou kept giving me this impish grin and trying to get into poses that accented her tight little ass. Then when watching TV, if Ron went to use the toilet, Lou jumped up from her seat and straddled my thighs with her little pussy right against my cock. She put both arms behind my neck and gave me one hell of a hot kiss for a kid.
My pecker came up so hard there was no way she could miss it. While we intertwined our tongues for about a minute, she had to know how hard I was as she hunched her young cunt right at it. Lou looked flushed as we looked at each other eye to eye.
"Wow! That was hot," Lou whispered. "Look, dummy. You've got to start coming to see me instead of my stupid brother. Can you sneak out at night without your parents knowing?"
So, here I am almost sixteen with a twelve-year-old asking me if I could sneak out at night.
"Yeah, I guess."
"You know my brothers sleep upstairs. My parents are in the back downstairs. My bedroom is in the front. They changed it from an old den when they had to make room for a girl. With the bushes at the windows, no one can see you. Just tap on the glass and I'll raise the window."
After waiting for my parents to go to bed, I slipped off into the night. The Mensons lived a mile and a quarter away down our country road, then around the corner. I pedaled my bike hard to get there as quickly as possible, all the while wondering if Lou was just bullshitting me. I was afraid I'd appear at her window and she would laugh at me.
I shoved my bike into the weeds in the field across from their home and serpentined from bush to tree to bush to get to the corner of the house with Lou's bedroom. The light was off. I figured she was just fucking with my mind. On my knees behind the bushes, I got up enough nerve to peck on the glass. A voice came from behind me.
"You did show up. You do like me, don't you?" She giggled.
"You scared the shit out of me. I thought you were going to be your old man."
Lou had been in the bushes waiting to see if I'd show up. She kissed me with her arms around my neck again. I figured I'd put my hands on her waist and try to sneak a feel of her ass. There was enough light from the security light at the barn that I could see she was wearing some kind of a little nightgown that fell just below her butt. Before I got that far, she pushed back from me.
"Do you think I kiss like my old man?"
"Certainly not! But don't make me find out."
We both laughed quietly. She reached out to me with something in her hand.
"Here, I want you to have these before I chicken out."
She put a pair of panties in my hand. They were too small to be Mary's, but I had no idea twelve-year-olds wore bikini underwear.
"They're mine, you doofus. You don't think I'd had you a pair of Mom's panties, do you? I know you like them sticky, so I put a little something in them for you."
I raised them up into the light enough to see the crotch glisten. I looked back at Lou with an amazed look on my face.
"What is it?"
"It's me, silly. I made them gooey for you. When I rub my little button, it makes me wet, then I cum, and well, there you go. I made myself cum twice before waiting out here to see if you would show up."
"The little button?"
"You know the little button. My clit...right at the top of my pussy. I rub my nipples with my other hand. I feel really hot and tingly, and then I cum."
I held the fabric in my hand, still staring.
"You've tasted the stuff on my mom's underwear, haven't you?"
I just nodded.
"Are you going to taste mine?" She urged. "Go ahead. I bet you like it."
It was like I was trapped in a dream. I was in the Menson's yard, in the dark, with a twelve-year-old trying to get me to taste her pussy juices from where she had cum in her panties. I tapped my finger in the goo and touched it to my tongue.
"Like it?"
Again I just nodded. It was good. The whole idea had given me a tremendous boner.
"Go ahead. Lick it off. Eat my cum off my panties."
"Wait! Are you out here without any panties?" My head was swimming.
"No, see..." She lifted her gown to show me a pair of pink panties. "Now lick it off and I'll give you the ones I am wearing to take home with you."
It wouldn't end well if I didn't do as she said. I wanted to anyway. I sucked the whole wet spot into my mouth. Her juices came off in my mouth. I rolled it around and swallowed.
"Now kiss me," She ordered.
Her tongue went immediately into my mouth. The kiss was hotter than ever before. She melted into me. My cock was hard against her stomach. I got my hands on her ass, the inside her panties and onto her bare ass. She didn't stop me.
We never broke the kiss. Lou was grinding her tummy against my rigid tool. I moved my hands up her back to pull her tighter to me. Hitting bare skin, I realized the training bra was gone. She seemed to know what I was thinking.
"I have to wear it during the day so my nipples don't poke my blouse. There is no way I am sleeping in it. Besides, I'm starting to grow a bit."Mom says she needs to take me to town to get a regular padded bra. Double A is supposed to be good, except in a bra size it's kind of humiliating.
"You do look like you are starting to blossom."
"Don't say blossom. If you want damp panties, you better keep kissing."
She caught me off balance and knocked me on my back in the grass, leaving us in a little more light. She rolled right with me, ending up straddling my waist as we resumed kissing. Once again, my cock was pushing right against her slit. She ground against me, picking up the pace and circling her slit around over my dick. Then she stopped and went over to her window.
"It's starting to get late."
She opened the window and crawled inside, giving me a great view of her panty-clad ass. I thought she was turning to close the window. Instead, she grabbed my hand and pulled me inside.
"Don't make a sound. Just stand and watch."
She laid on her back on her bed. One hand went down the front of her panties and started moving around in a circular rubbing motion.
"This is the little button I told you about that makes me cum. Mmph. God, it's so different with you watching me."
She started to rub a little faster and seemed to be pushing down harder. Then her other hand went up under her gown to rub around on her chest. I knew I had a raging hardon, but all I could do was watch what Lou was doing to herself on the bed. Lou was wiggling around, her face flushed red. She was breathing like she couldn't get enough air. She brought her knees up and flopped her legs wide open as she lifted her ass off the bed.
Lou had been staring at the ceiling during the whole time. Now her eyes turned towards me. They were looking, but did not seem to be focused on me as they would roll around and look back up in her head. The little twelve-year-old's ass began to shake in the air as her tummy looked all convulsed and twisted. A little noise came out of her throat, almost like a creak and gurgle. I was about to run and get her mom, as I was afraid it was some kind of seizure, when she fell back flat on the bed. The look on her face turned to a beaming smile. Her hand was slowly circling on her mound. The hand on her tits came down to her flat stomach.
"You must be good for me. I must have done that a hundred times, but it's never been like that. If you like soaked panties, you're going to love these when I hand them to you."
With that, she planted her feet, raised her ass off the bed, and took the panties off. She took them off one leg at a time, affording me an open view of her little cunt. The lips were flat along the slit. Something I would later learn was an "innie pussy" and totally devoid of any hair whatsoever. I could see her wetness in her slit. She took a few seconds for her to put the other leg down, giving me a great view of her budding womanhood.
"I can tell by the look on your face that was the first time you saw a real pussy. Did you like what you saw?"
"Sure did. Ummm, thanks," I whispered.
She got up from the bed and stood in front of me.
"It seems only fair. I've seen yours a few times if you remember."
She handed me the panties she had just taken off.
"Here. That's for you. Now will you leave my mom's panties alone."
Lou put her arms around my neck again, pulling me down for a kiss. I was all flustered, knowing that I was kissing a girl that wasn't wearing a thing but a gown over her nakedness. As she stood on her toes, I put my hands on her waist. Moving them down and around, I found that her gown no longer covered her ass. I ran my hands over the smooth roundness of it.
She broke the kiss and shooed me out the window into the bushes.
"You better go before we both do something we would be glad we did," she giggled at what she said and closed the window.
I walked away with a hardon, needing to find my bike in the weeds while carrying my sticky little prize. I didn't get more than a hundred yards down the road before I was smelling Lou's juices and jacking off for all I was worth. I didn't last long, and it was a hell of a mess. Then when I got home, I was at it again before I sneaked back to my room.
I always got on the bus before the Menson's. Next morning, Lou was a little late getting out of the house. Her brothers were already seated before she came off the porch. I watched her hurry across the lawn to the road. I found myself getting hard just at the sight of her and the thought of what she did the night before with me watching.
As she walked by me on the bus, she gave me a wink. The driver waited for her to be seated. Suddenly, she was back, poking Ron to move over.
"All the seats are triple up, Ron. Move over. I'm sitting with you guys."
"I'm not sitting by you," Ron sneered.
"Oh, for Christ's sake. Take my seat by the window. I'm not afraid of your little sister."
"Maybe you should be," she grinned and punched me on my arm.
With a shuffle, Ron stepped into the aisle to let me out, then took my window seat, made a grumbling sound, and stared out the window. When I sat down, Lou plastered herself up next to me on the pretense the seat was narrow for the three of us.
All I could think about was that bald little pussy nestled in her panties. God... if she was even wearing panties! Then I became aware of her chest and got a desire to see the boobs on the little twelve-year-old. I could smell the soap from her bath and the shampoo on her hair. I remembered how the crotch of her panties tasted. Damn, I could be killed by her parents and probably mine if they had any idea what we had done. I wanted to do it again. To taste her sweet kiss and the flavor of the nectar from between her legs.
The bus bounced a little, causing Lou to brush up against me tighter. I looked down, and she was smiling up at me with those blue eyes sparking.
"Are you going to come see me tonight? I'll miss you if you don't."
"It might rain."
"So, will you be there?"
"Yes, damn the rain."
She bent over to say something to Ron. Whatever it was, I missed because as she leaned over, she put her right hand on mine and leaned her chest into my arm. There wasn't much there, but I liked the way it felt pressing against me. I swear I could feel her nipple harden through the fabric.
When we stood up to get off, she was in the aisle waiting for the kids in the seats ahead of us. A fat kid with a tuba had trouble getting it from out beside the seat. Lou pushed her back to me. She had to feel my hard cock. I felt my dick twinge, and so did Lou. She giggled and rubbed against it. I was hoping no one could notice.
School was fine. Lou was in 6th grade in the adjoining building to mine. With all the Junior and Senior high babes in my building, my brain still couldn't think of anything else but Lou with that sweet little cunt. On the bus going home, she took a seat with some friends, while Ron and I sat in the back, with me watching every move she made and thinking about getting out to see her after dark.
I went to Ron's house and helped until after the chores were done. We played catch with the baseball. Lou kept her distance since we didn't want to appear to be pals. Mary spoke to me a couple of times. She liked getting my reaction to her body. She had no idea my affections were now directed at her daughter. I went home for supper and faked going to bed early. With my dad in construction and hers farming, luckily both families went to bed early.
By 9:30, I was out of the house and on my bike, headed to Lou. The predicted rain hadn't come yet. Lightning was flashing in the distance. Lou was standing outside her window when I sneaked up.
"What took you so long?" She laughed.
We started to kiss. Her little nipples felt hard against my chest. I moved one hand down from her waist to cup her ass when I hit bare flesh.
"I'm not wearing anything under my gown tonight," Lou broke our kiss.
If I wasn't hard enough already, the idea of her hairless pussy naked in the night air finished the trick. As we resumed kissing, I put both hands on her bare ass and caressed it gently. The kiss got hotter. I moved my hand around between us to touch what there was of her mound. After getting a finger to rub into her little crevice, she took my hand and moved it back to her butt.
After several more minutes of kissing, Lou stopped and turned around against me with her back to my chest. I realized that left her entire front open for exploration, whether that was her intentions, or not. I kissed her hair, her ear, and then her neck. She let out a soft moan when I licked her neck with my tongue.
"Oh, fuck. You are going to make my little bottom really gooey if you keep that up."
So, I did. I had one hand rubbing over her tummy. I didn't know whether to try to go up or down. She didn't get mad before when I touched her pussy, so I gave it a try. I kept my finger out of her slit, which was really all there was to it anyway. I rubbed over the smoothness of the soft skin that was totally devoid of any hair.
She probably was more comfortable with me fondling her cunt than seeing her boobs. Still, my other hand had ideas about exploring her chest bumps as I worked up under her gown. When my fingers were right below her chest, she stopped me with her hand.
"I'm not sure I want you messing with my chest."
"I don't expect a lot from someone twelve," my voice seemed like it was coming from somewhere in the distance. "I feel your hard nipples against me when we hug, and they feel great."
"Well, nipples are about all that's there."
I continued stroking over her cunt. Lou shifted her feet apart to give me a little more access. I wished I knew how to find that "Button" she had talked about.Deciding to chance it again, I moved my hand upwards under her gown. My flat palm hit both nipples at once. I carefully rubbed across them and felt them stiffen. I didn't really feel much boob, but her nipples were like pencil erasers.
"Oh, fuck. You don't give up, do you? I can't believe I'm letting you do that." Lou sighed as she turned her neck to look back at me. "It does feel good. Better than when I do it."
"I think you are terrific. I love your little boobs."
I kissed her neck some more and explored her chest one tit at a time. They were just starting to grow. They were a flat, yet conical shape with the hard little nipple on the end. One was bigger than the other. I tried not to act like I hadn't noticed, all the while keeping the other hand busy at her crotch.
"We need to stop. You are going to make me cum." She wiggled and groaned.
"I thought you liked to cum."
"Well, not now. Not outside. It's about to rain. Besides, I like to get all worked up. It makes me crazy the way I feel right before an orgasm hits. And, we haven't done anything with you."
"Anything with me?"
"Except a couple of peeks in the bathroom, you've never had your cock out for me to see."
Lou grabbed at the zipper on my shorts. My cock was hard as stone and poking down my left leg.
"Come on. Get it out. Show me."
"You want to see it, you get it out," I challenged, smiling at her.
There was no hesitation. With great resolve, Lou's little hand snaked inside and grabbed my throbbing boner. I imagined what it would be like explaining to my mom the mess in my pants from the load I was about to lose. She quickly had it freed and out into the night air.
"Wow, it's bigger than I thought. I don't know how that thing can ever fit in my little cunt."
Lou dropped to her knees and was slowly stroking it, not realizing how close I was to splattering her face with cum.
"I'm sure it won't be a problem for you when the time is right."
"What I meant was... well, fuck, I don't know what I meant. I've seen my brothers with a hardon and even walked in on Mom and Dad once when she was giving him a blowjob. I mean, you're even bigger than Dad."
"Yeah, well, right now you're about to get covered in sperm."
"No, I'm not. I want to see you cum, but not yet."
Lou quit pumping and took her hand off my pecker, just letting it bounce up and down in front of me.
"Oh, God. That's mean!"
"Then you finish it. I did myself in front of you."
"You mean just shoot it out in the air?"
"Yeah, I want to see what it looks like when a guy cums. Go on!" Lou urged.
It seemed only fair, but I didn't want to lose it too fast. I stroked slowly, trying to look out into the night.
Man, that girl had the life for someone just turned twelve. All the dirty words she used freely with me. Seeing her brothers with a hardon, catching her Mom sucking her Dad's cock. It was like I didn't know shit. And, I guess I didn't. Then I looked down at Lou, still on her knees, but carefully off to one side.
"Come on, I want to see it. Tell you what, if you shoot for me, I'll kiss it right on the end for you when you are done."
"That wasn't fair," I whispered back.
I felt my balls contract and my seed rush up the length of my shaft. There was no stopping it. Lou's face lit up when she saw the effect of what she said had on me. My first spurt left the end. Lou's eyes got big and her mouth came open. With the push from inside and the motion of my hand, the first shot went about two feet while she moved her head to watch it rope from the end of my dick. Another spurt and I slowed down to where it was just flowing out of me and onto the ground.
"Wow, just like in Mom's fuck books. Even better in person. Probably even better shooting if it was up inside me."
My hand left my cock and was quickly replaced by Lou's. She pumped it a couple of times and, true to her word, kissed the end at the slit where cum was still seeping from the head. Some stuck to her lips, causing her to pause a few seconds while she decided to wipe it off or lick it off. Her tongue came for a taste.
"Unnhh... I thought it would taste more like my pussy," she scowled. "But, it's not really that bad."
With that, she kissed it again and opened her lips to take part of the head into her mouth, then backed off and tasted again, only to again take some of the tip in her mouth. I could have cum three times more. She looked up at me with a little of my sperm on her lower lip.
"The stuff just keeps leaking out. When does it stop?"
"That should be about it."
Pleased with my answer, she took the entire head into her mouth and swirled her tongue along the backside of its crown, sucking gently to get the last of it. Curiosity caused her to force her mouth onto it until it hit the back of her young, yet eager throat. After gagging a little, she popped off it and onto her feet.
"How did I do?" She tilted her head and smiled.
"Excellent! I answered. "A few more seconds and you would have been dealing with another full load."
Still beaming, she kissed me on the mouth and gave my tongue the same treatment her tongue had given my cock. I wasn't too excited about the taste of my own cum, but who could complain? We kissed and made out for several minutes as the weather threatened. Hearing the storm coming across the cornfields, we quickly got inside her bedroom and closed the window to the rain.
"Looks like you're stuck with me for a while. You can't go home in this storm. If Mom comes to my door, you better be ready to duck beside the bed."
Lou pushed the blankets to one side and laid on the sheet, propping herself up on one elbow as she laid on her side facing me. Her gown was up around her waist, exposing her hip and the upper part of her crotch. As I watched, she slid her foot up to the other knee, exposing her little pussy to me, leaving herself in that position.
"Why don't you come lay with me?" She patted the bed.
I didn't have to be asked twice. I joined, kissing her, still tasting my cum in her mouth. Not forgetting how she liked the ear and neck kissing, I started kissing there, moving on down to her shoulder, hoping to get another chance at those little tits.
"Stop a second."
"Oh, fuck. Busted," I thought to myself.
"Let me get this gown out of the way," she said, tossing it over her head and smoothing it down over the other pillow. "If Mom comes by, I'll need to get it back on really fast," she explained.
Lou had her arms outstretched for me to get back to her now naked body. Apparently, I had her convinced there was nothing wrong with her budding boobs as they were now in full view in the light from beside her bed. I went right for them, kissing, licking, sucking at free will. Little moans were coming from her throat. She held my face to her chest and brushed over my hair with both hands as I gently worked from nipple to nipple.
Not that I had forgotten seeing her work over her pussy earlier. I plotted my way down there, realizing my best approach may be the direct approach. I started kissing towards her stomach. Lou's hands not only followed, but seemed to be pressing my face lower. When I got to her belly button, it was obvious a leg was going to be in my way. I had gotten a little sideways with my left hand, trying to fondle her slit while I still licked and kissed her navel. Lou was getting pretty aroused. My fondling, which was more like fumbling, got the best of her.
"What is it you are trying to do?" She scolded.
"Trying to find that little button down there you keep talking about," I confessed.
"You're never going to find it that way. Give me a second," she ordered.
I raised up and leaned away from her. Lou was flat on her back, then she splayed her legs wide open.
"Now come up from the bottom between my legs."
I followed her command. My face was a remarkable foot from her slit. I could see the moisture already forming in the center, and although I didn't know what they were, her inner lips were slightly protruding.
"This is it here," she pointed with her finger. "Do you see it there? It's not very big."
True, once I looked where she pointed, it was not even as big as a BB. I made a move towards it with my tongue extended.
"No, you were up here at my navel. Come back to my navel and work your way down. No shortcuts for you."
There wasn't any reason to argue with that. I was back to kissing around her navel and licking with my tongue down into it. Her thighs were squeezing against my shoulders, so I worked my arms under her ass. That, in turn, put her tummy and pussy mound closer to my mouth. Not a bad move for such a backward farm kid.
Making me go back to her navel was a wonderful idea as I kissed and slurped my way down. I had to find that little button again. Right below the crest of her pussy mound, I started searching with my tongue. Even if I had not felt the little bump at the top of her slit, the reaction from Lou and the low moan she emitted from her throat told me I was there. I spanked it with my tongue and sucked it between my lips. Lou exploded, leaving me with lots to clean up and swallowing to do.
I was ready and able to go another round eating her sweet cunt. Lou, on the other hand, tossed my clothes at me and began to usher me to the window.
"Save some for another night, Romeo. You need to get home and to bed. Maybe if you're lucky, I'll let you in again tomorrow night if you promise to take care of my little pussy and do a rerun of tonight."
"Okay. Kiss me goodnight, and I'll be on my way."
Common sense prevailed, enabling her to get my ass out the window and into the night.The window slid closed behind me, making me realize I had better grab my bicycle from the weeds and get home and to bed.
The next morning on the bus was as tough as always after a night with Lou. Watching the young girl in shorts and a T-shirt get on board made me think of her panties hugging her crotch and how my face had been down there just hours before. Probably no one else on the bus gave the slim twelve-year-old a sexual thought, except probably Howard, the bus driver.
She gave me a sly grin as she walked by me in the aisle, her brother already on board had dropped past me into the window seat. Soon she was back.
"Excuse me. I guess I'll sit with you again. Becky had some friends for a sleepover and the bus is a little crowded."
"Fat Larry is sitting all by himself," I teased. Larry, all two hundred pounds of him, had a crush on Lou.
"Get over or I'll take out your teeth," she mock-threatened me with a fist balled up and drawn back to strike.
I guess that was the problem with being the last ones on the bus route. Lou and I bounced along, hip to hip, for the 5-mile trip to the school, with me thinking every moment about her snug body and the way she tasted down there. Almost to the school, she tried to say something to me that I did not hear with the noise on the bus. I leaned down to hear better. She spoke wetly into my ear.
"If I have your cock in my mouth, can you still cum?"
I gave her a look, not quite sure what she had said. Leaning down again, she first kissed my ear and then whispered so I could hear.
"After you left last night, I decided I like the taste of your sperm. If you cum in my mouth, I think I can swallow your whole load."
Man, talk about an instant hardon.
"Thanks, Lou. Now I have to walk off the bus with a boner."
I gave her neck a little nip as I moved away. Even though the seat was high enough to block the view, a third-grader behind us yelled out.
"Hey, no kissing!"
Lou stood up and spun around.
"Yeah, like that's going to happen. Shut your face."
God, she's got her Mom's mouth on her, was my thought. The bus arrived at school, and we stood up in the aisle, Lou in front of me. She kept nudging back into me. Then she looked back at my face and laughed. I must have spent half my classes with an erection.
Darkness couldn't fall fast enough for me that night. I was out of the house and on the road as soon as I heard my old man snore. Rushing up to Lou's window, I was looking to see if she was out in the bushes waiting for me. She wasn't there as I looked around for her. The window was open. Lou looked out and told me to get inside.
"Be quiet and get your clothes off. I'm already naked."
"You are?" I stammered in shock.
"Yes, get in here," she scolded.
I could make out her figure in the dim light of the plug-in wall nightlight. I couldn't see a stitch of clothes on her body. It didn't take long for me to strip off mine. I got in an embrace with her on the bed, our hands all over each other.
"I want to do that thing I told you on the bus, but you have to do me first."
"Yeah, about on the bus. Thanks for the hardon that seemed like it would never go away."
"You mean I can make you hard whenever or wherever I want? Don't forget it!"
Lou flipped over on her back, spreading her legs obscenely wide. She patted the smooth area at her little slit.
"Come on. Get to work down there. I'm already wet. My little cunny needs your lovin' now."
I jumped so quickly at her little gash that she almost squealed out loud. My face hit right into her hot little slit. I licked up the center and then tried to suck both of her pussy lips into my mouth. That's when I realized how wet she was. She was gooey all over. I looked up at her in surprise.
"My God, Lou. You aren't just wet, you are soaked."
"Hey, guys get hard, girls get wet. That's what we do. It works out well, don't you think?"
I kept at the task before me, and every time I'd get a little moan from Lou, I knew I was in the right place, doing the right thing. Lou had a lot of right places, and I was doing a lot of right things. I never really caught up with her existing wetness. The little fuck kept a steady flow going onto my tongue and into my mouth. After what must have been a half-hour, she had cum several times with little orgasms before grabbing my hair and trying to shove my whole face inside her little pussy. I let her rest. Then...
"So, I guess I can make you wet and cum whenever I want."
"Sure... in your dreams," she retorted.
I left her crotch and moved up to kiss her erect little nipples. I secretly wished she could stay this perfect little twelve-year-old, with her budding titties and bald pussy, forever. Although I was aware of my hard dick rubbing against her slit, I suddenly realized the head of it was actually in the groove for entry.
"Oh, God, but I wish I could just let you shove that big thing up inside me."
"Really? What could it hurt?" My voice sounded like the village idiot was making a statement.
"Unless you want to be a Dad, my Mom told me that a woman has a fertile time right before her first period. Which makes sense, she said, since the period is shedding an unfertilized egg. So, I don't want a cum in me during a time that could make me have a baby. Could you imagine me fucking up my life with a kid?"
I was still holding my cock in the groove, really wanting to push on in and fuck the living daylights out of her. I rolled off her and onto my back. She followed me over, ending up between my legs. She was kissing my cum-drenched mouth.
"Hey, I taste pretty good, don't I? You got in deep where I hide the good stuff."
"Really?"
Okay. She just stared at me. The village idiot still had a lot to learn about girls and seemed to have found just the girl to teach him. She slid down and started pumping my cock, giving it little kisses on the tip as she looked up at me. Next, she had her mouth over it and was still pumping in a rhythm like there was a song stuck in her head.
"I'm not going to last very long with you doing that."
Her reaction was to drop her thumb and forefinger to the base and try to get as much as she could in her mouth. I had about seven inches at the time. I always wished it was about a foot long, but never had seen anyone naked in the shower or any other state of undress that looked like they had more.
Lou was trying to get more in by getting it down her throat. All to no avail as my balls contracted, and sperm started spurting out of my dick into her sucking mouth. She gagged a little at first, gasping for air, but she kept swallowing as she got more than she bargained for. All in the space of about sixty seconds.
"That was easy," said Lou, still gulping sperm left in her mouth. "You should have waited. I was trying to get you down my throat like the women in Mom's fuck books."
I just grinned at her sheepishly. I read the books she gave me. I thought it was bullshit from some writer. I had no idea that women could really do that.
"Okay, now. My turn again."
Lou moved up my chest and put her pussy right on my face. I wasn't getting enough air, and she knew it. She had gotten even wetter while sucking me off. Her slit flowed into my mouth as I sucked her juices out of her cunt. Suddenly she came really hard, drowning me in her fluids, then finally letting me up for air.
"See, I can cum fast, too, when I want."
The view was great. Right up her flat tummy, those little boobs, and onto her face. Lou had an evil grin. She was still on one knee, but the other foot was now on the bed. I had some room to breathe. It gave me a great view of her open little snatch. Then, as if on cue, she lowered her crotch right back on my mouth.
"Lick me. Make me feel good."
She never let me up. She would cum a little and raise up, then sit right back on my face again. Not that I minded. This probably went on for an hour, not that time mattered that much. Then I heard her door knob rattle.
"Lou, you have your door locked."
Busted by her mother. Lou pushed me on the floor by the window and threw her covers over me.
"Just a minute," she was struggling to get her gown on.
Lou opened the door, and her Mom stepped into the room.
"Why do you have your door locked?"
"Well, even with the air conditioning on, my room stays hot because it's up front. I was trying sleeping in the nude, and you know I have pesky brothers. So, I locked the door."
"Hmmm. Okay, I guess. It does seem a little warm in here. I just wanted to make sure you weren't sneaking a man into your room," Mary joked to her daughter.
"Mother! I'm only twelve years old."
"I know, Honey. I know."
"Yeah, at least wait until I'm fourteen," Lou joked.
"Not funny, Lou. Not funny," her Mom grumbled and shut the door. I heard Lou lock it back again.
"Coast is clear."
Lou pulled the blanket from me with a big grin on her face. She whipped the gown up over her head and tossed it by the door.
"Come on. Get back where you were."
"Are you kidding me? Your Mom just almost caught us. I was about to shit myself under your blanket."
"Don't be a big baby. She won't be back, and besides, now I've got myself an excuse to have the door locked. I'm so hot over almost getting caught, you better be ready to swallow fast."
After a couple of minutes with her feeding me her pussy, I forgot all about the fucking door and her Mom. True to her word, in about five minutes, she hit the big one and nearly drowned me.
"Let's get you another turn and get you out of here."
There was no argument from me. It was my turn to lay on the bed. Lou worked her greedy mouth around my already record-hard cock. It felt like it would split at the seams, if it had seams.After a few more pumps, she had my cock back in her mouth.
This time, I made it last for several minutes. Then, she tried to get it down her throat again. I could feel it start to go down when I lost it, causing her to choke badly on my spurting seed. After some gulping and gasping, she was finally able to speak.
"Almost got you that time. If your cock wasn't so big, I could have deep-throated it. But, I'll do it maybe next time."
"I didn't think that was a real thing."
"Oh, it will be a real thing alright."
It was the following week before we could get together again. Tuesday, actually. She was waiting, leaning out the window with her elbows on the sill.
"It seemed like forever for you to get to see me this time. I need my little pussy munched. But, first, get in here and let me at that cock of yours. I'm getting the damned thing down my throat this time."
I about fractured my dick crawling in through the window. Nothing like a girl telling you that your cock was going down her throat to give the boner of all boners. She was already naked. I got my clothes off and joined her on the bed, flat on my back, cock in the air.
"I'll bet that thing is loaded with cum for me."
"Not really. I thought of you and jacked off every night."
"Yeah, I couldn't keep my fingers off myself either," she giggled.
Lou pumped my pecker a couple of times, put the head in her mouth, then slid her face down to where half my cock was in her mouth. It was obvious that she was determined to swallow it as she gagged a little, but kept right on forcing me deeper against her throat.
"Do you have to get so hard? It's like trying to swallow a stick."
She didn't get it before I lost it in her mouth. Her eyes bulged as she tried not to let any spill out. Finally, after several spurts and her swallowing several times, she looked up at me and smiled before showing that she still had quite a mouthful still to swallow. With her mouth again closed, I could hear her tongue sloshing around in my sperm. That went on with her opening and closing her mouth to show me she still hadn't swallowed for several minutes.
By then, I was almost hard again. Finally, she swallowed it down, then rubbed her tummy and grinned.
"I guess you don't mind the taste so much now," I taunted.
"As much as I want it deep in my pussy, that will just have to do for now."
"You know, I could ride my bike to the next town where they don't know me and buy some rubbers so we could actually fuck," I offered.
"That still wouldn't be cum up inside me. All the stories I've read prefer what they call bareback. I couldn't feel you squirt with a condom or feel your seed inside me. We just need to wait until I get my first period."
"I'm not ready to be a dad, that's for sure, and I couldn't imagine what your mom would do if you turned up pregnant."
"God, look at you! Are you hard again after I just got done with the last of your cum in my mouth?"
I just nodded and grinned. Lou started sucking my cock again, then paused.
"It's pretty obvious that my little throat isn't going to be able to handle your big cock, at least not now. So, I'm going to suck you dry, then it will be my turn to have you do me."
I was pretty proud, not just that she said the words, "my big cock" but, I was able to last about fifteen minutes or so before she coaxed my next load out of me. And, you know, as much as I liked her on my cock and all, I almost couldn't wait to suck out the juicy mess I knew she would have waiting for me in her tight little cunt.
And, when it was my turn, it was great. She now preferred to lower her snatch right over my face while I licked the juices from her. I preferred it that way as well. Lou must have cum a dozen times in the next hour as she rose up from my face and then forced her cunt down on me again and again.
"Wow, we still have to get up and go to school tomorrow. I'll get all wet down there seeing you on the bus."
"Too bad buses don't have dark corners," I replied.
"Anyway, it's the last week of the school year. Do you remember my cousin being here for a month last year? Skinny kid, a blond ten-year-old?"
"Yeah, kinda... I think."
"Well, she's eleven now and was bragging to me on the phone about how she is starting to fill out. Claiming to have hair starting on her coochie and all. I don't want you getting interested in her. Do you understand? Her mother will be bringing her here the first full week after school."
"I don't see that as a problem with a sweet young thing like you keeping my attention," I answered her.
"This time, she spends a week here, and I go to Colorado with her and her mom. Then, after three weeks, my mom goes to Colorado and spends a week with us before bringing me home. We won't be getting a lot of chances, so you better not be forgetting that you are my boyfriend."
We would have Wednesday and Thursday, then the next week with her cousin arriving with her aunt on Sunday.
Wednesday morning got me worked up from what Lou said about getting wet from seeing me on the bus. I really wanted to shout to everyone that she was my girl. That and fuck her right where she sat in the bus seat.
That evening, I didn't get a chance to hang out with Ron at their house because my mom had extra chores for me. Upon arriving at Lou's in the dark, she hustled me in through the window and laid, already naked on her back on her bed. As I undressed, she opened her legs.
"I want you to get me really hot. Then I want you to fuck me."
Lou was taking this further and faster than I would ever have expected.
"I thought we were worried about getting you pregnant."
"You're going to have to pull out when you get ready to cum. I can't have you cum in me, so when we do it, you had better be ready to pull out."
By then, I was thinking with my dick. Don't guys always think with their dick? I dropped between her thighs and started by looking for her clit. She was already soaked, so it wasn't going to take much for her to be ready.
"Why the sudden rush for sex? I thought we were okay with what we have been doing."
I was trying to understand my good fortune.
"We are, but I was talking to my cousin on the phone tonight. She told me she was going to let her boyfriend fuck her before she comes here to visit, on the theory that if he fucks her, he won't look at anyone else while she is gone."
"So, what's the big deal. Let her if that's what she wants."
"It's a big deal. I hate being the one to have to listen to her stories."
"You couldn't tell her about us even if we did it."
"I know, but I'd know we did it. I want to lose my cherry before she loses hers."
I thought Lou was going to cry. I buried my face and started working her wet gash again. She wiggled and moaned from what I was doing to her. I made her cum. Then started thinking again about her wanting me to fuck her.
"What if I can't hold it?" She was staring down at me as I asked.
"Just get up here and put it in me. When you get it in, just hold it there for a while, then start pumping."
"What if it hurts?"
"I hear it hurts just once. Come on. Fuck me!"
My dick was doing all the thinking again. I crawled up to her and poked at her slit. I wasn't exactly finding the right opening as the head of it smeared around in her goo. Then I was lined up with her soft little vagina. The outer lips were around the tip.
"Push, damn it. Fuck me."
I'd never given any thought before now to actually ever getting to fuck a girl. Now Lou was mine for the taking. I pushed. The head started in. I could feel her pussy start to close around the head. I froze right there, fearing I might cum right then.
"Okay, we can hold it right there a minute. God, it feels so good," she coached.
Lou was breathing fast, then wiggled her hips. A little more of me slid in. She did a couple of lunges at me by raising her pelvis towards me.
"I like that! Are you okay? If you feel you are cumming, just pull out."
I was feeling pretty good myself. My cock was inside Lou Mensen. I was fucking a girl. I did a couple of strokes into her on my own. Lou kissed me frantically, almost causing me to lose it. I could feel that I was up against her maidenhead, worrying about what would happen when I broke it. I held it there.
"Unless you want me to pull out now, we need to hold real still for a little bit."
"Okay, I'd like that. I like it that you are inside me."
"Maybe it would help if we talked about something else. What kind of name is Lou, anyway?"
"Now? Well, if you have to know, Lou stands for Louise. I'm named after my mother Mary and Dad's mother Louise."
"Mary Louise, huh?"
"Yeah. Are you here with your dick in me and making fun of my name?"
"No, I like it. I think I'll call you May Lou."
"You mean like in 'Hello, Mary Lou, goodbye heart'?" she giggled.
"Something like that."
"Oh, God! I love you so much."
"You're just saying that because I've got my cock in you."
"I'd love you even if you didn't have your cock in me. Your cock in me. Your cock in me. I like saying that."
I gave her pussy a little nudge inward. She held still, and we kissed heavily for a moment.
"What you just did down there... do it a little harder."
"Really?"
"Yes, burst my little cherry. Fuck me!"
She was tight as hell. Even as wet as she was, I wasn't sure it was going any deeper. I pushed. She grunted. A couple more inches went in. My Mary Lou sucked in her breath.
"Well, that's over. How much more do you have left?"
I didn't know, so she reached down between us and wrapped fingers over what was still sticking out.
"Oh, my! We've got a lot to go."
She rocked up into me. I pushed into her.More of my cock went in, and much to my surprise, I hadn't lost it and filled her with my sperm. We rocked and shook the bed for several minutes. I made her cum. But, with all her writhing around getting hers, I felt mine start to pulse up out of my balls. I jerked out and shot my seed on her belly.
Looking really blissful, Mary Lou ran her fingers around in my puddles of cum on her tummy and then licked her fingers.
"Wow! I almost had that inside of me."
With her in my arms, I watched her naked body move with each breath. I could see where her little cunt was leaking juices out and onto her smooth thighs. How did that much cock go inside that beautiful little twelve-year-old? I watched her doze off into a deep slumber as I held her. Soon I fell asleep myself, both of us naked with her soft body pressed against me.
Mary Lou woke me up. It was almost 3 o'clock in the morning.
"Fuck! What happened to us? I can't believe we went to sleep. You had better get home. There's still school in the morning."
I started pulling on my pants. Mary Lou gave me the open crotch view again. I moved towards her on the bed.
"Want to taste a little sample before you go?"
I ran my tongue deep inside her, hungrily lapping her juices. I hadn't cum in her, so I knew it was all Mary Lou. I even licked her drippings from the insides of her thighs. As I went back to her little cunt, she started to cum violently, grasping my head and pulling it hard into her. I licked and sucked until she lay silent, with her smiling up at me as I stepped back to leave.
"Thank you. I love you. If we had the time and I wasn't a little sore, I'd have you fuck me again."
"I love you, too," I mumbled, not being sure either of us knew what it meant.
The next morning, Mary Lou got on the bus ahead of Ron. She looked tired, but her face had a radiant glow, and there was a little bounce and wiggle to her walk I hadn't noticed before. She gave me a big wink as she went on past me to sit with two other girls a couple of seats further back. I heard them giggle and carry on behind me like the young girls they were.
Getting off the bus, I headed for the high school building while she went to where she was finishing up her sixth-grade classes. I thought of the night before and how she had asked to me fuck her, and how good it felt to have my cock buried in her innocent twelve-year-old cunt. I found it hard keeping my mind off her throughout the day.
Thursday after school, I hung out with Ron again. Mary Lou got close once and half-whispered, "I couldn't keep you and your big cock out of my mind all day. I can't wait to have you fuck me again tonight."
It seemed like such a filthy thing to come out of the mouth of a sweet little girl. I was so worked up I almost sneaked out before dark in my anxiousness to be with her. When I did get there, she greeted me naked again. With me swiftly undressed, Mary Lou scooted back into a "fuck me" position.
"Don't worry about the foreplay. I want you to fuck me."
And, we did. I fucked her twice. With her so hot, I made her cum twice the first time before I had to pull out and cum on her belly, not in it.
After a few minutes, she had me hard again. I was amazed how I had learned how to hold it long enough to give her a good fucking before pulling out. I felt her cum three times when she told me to pull out and cum down her throat. We finished up with me eating her pussy. She somehow managed to cum a couple of times more.
It was the next Tuesday before we could get together again. During that time, I wondered if I was a real fifteen-year-old stud or if Mary Lou was one of those females that would need a lot of cock to make her cum often. There didn't seem to be a downside to that, as in my opinion, she was a girl just born to fuck and enjoyed a cock in her.
I became very aware of how much of her nectar she would produce and how much she could cum, seemingly without a lot of effort. I had heard so many stories about women that couldn't cum with just regular fucking. Either needing a huge cock or another outside stimulant to get the job done. I'd read about women waiting for their man to go to sleep so they could finger-fuck themselves to an orgasm. What would she be like when she wasn't a little girl?
The night was like the week before. Foreplay wasn't necessary, even though I wanted to eat her pussy and watch her suck me and swallow my cum. She had me in her as soon as I got my pants and shirt off. Mary Lou was truly loving it. She got off three times before I had to pull out. I ate her pussy a little bit before she wanted me to fuck her some more.
Could I have understood wrong? Did all women cum that much? As I would fuck her, she would go on and on about how big I was, how good I was, and how much she loved me. Although I was up against her tight little cervix, there was a bit more to go in. The first couple of nights, there was a couple of inches she was just too small to take. She handled the width with a very tightly stretched pussy. Her little body just couldn't handle the full length.
On Wednesday night, right after we started, she stopped bucking and looked into my eyes.
"I think you are in a little deeper than it's been before."
"It does feel like it, doesn't it?"
"I want it all. How much is left to go in?"
She reached down to feel for herself. Although there was about an inch still outside of her, it was definitely going in deeper than when we started. I didn't think a tiny thing like herself would ever be able to take the whole thing until she was older.
"Keep pushing harder while you fuck me. I'm not going to break. I think I can stretch enough to take you if we keep at it. If it hurts, I'll tell you."
We got most of it in that night. I had to pull out twice to keep from cumming in her or we might have made it. Mary Lou wanted me to stay and try again. The last day of school was the next day. I wanted to get home to get some rest. Again, I ate her pussy and got her to cum a couple of more times. My plan had been to count each time she would cum. I lost track, but it was for sure the little cunt wasn't one to hold back... or couldn't hold back.
Same as before on the bus in the morning. Mary Lou looked even more radiant, and I looked more beat, as if she was sucking my life out of me. Even at that, my pecker was giving her the standing salute in my pants as she walked past me. On the way off, she got right in behind me, slightly pressing her nipples into my back. I felt her slip her hand in my pocket.
"I wrote you a note," she stood on her tiptoes and whispered in my ear. "Read it later."
I touched my pocket and felt the folded paper. I didn't get a chance to read it because her brother Ron was in my first two classes. By third period, my curiosity got the better of me as I slipped the note out of my pocket and unfolded it before me.
"When you fuck me tonight, I'll have a special surprise for you. Love, ML."
I realized the teacher was talking to me. Other kids were staring my way. I asked what she had said as I tried to refold the note and hide it, much too late. Miss Groves was tough, but good-looking. I spent a lot of classes watching her ass when she was at the board and always watched for a little cleavage. Rumor had it she was a lesbian because in her twenties, she was still single and the sponsor of the cheerleading squads.
"What? I'm sorry, I didn't hear."
"I said, it looks like you have a note. Would you like to share it with the class on this last day of school?"
"Uh! No. It's was just something I found on the stairs. Something about a reminder to pick something up. I don't know who's it is."
I lied. God, I hadn't been in trouble all year, and now this. Of all times for Mary Lou to slip me a filthy note.
"Well, maybe you better bring it up here for me to decide."
The upside was that with the sudden stress and fear in my heart, I wasn't sitting there with a hardon. I took the note to her at the front of the class. She unfolded it. She didn't say anything. Just looked at the note, taking in what it said. Then her cheeks reddened as she looked at me.
"Maybe we should discuss this in the hall."
I followed meekly behind her. Alone together in the hall, she turned and started to speak, got all red again, then took a deep breath.
"I saw your face when you were reading this," she patted it in her hand. "Your reaction wasn't like you found a note on the stairs. It had to be from someone you know. I don't want the embarrassment of sharing this with the principal or anyone else. Do you want to keep it between us... and whatever lucky lady wrote the note?"
"Just you and me if you don't mind. I don't want her knowing you saw it."
"You know... you aren't even driving yet, but you are fucking this girl? Make sure she you don't knock her up. I've known kids to get in trouble like that."
My head was swimming from the words Miss Groves had used. Her cheeks were still flushed, but I found myself staring from her eyes to her nipples. They were poking out against her blouse. She realized I had noticed and seemed to actually stick out her chest a little. I kept looking, and her nipples were even getting harder. My cock was starting to grow, and she noticed, causing her to blush even more.
"Maybe we should take a moment before going back into the classroom."
I agreed, but neither of us seemed to be getting back to normal.
"Well, my nipples aren't going to go down with you staring at them, and it looks like it's not any better for you. Fuck, we don't dare let anyone know about this."
I had lusted after her all year since she took the teaching job last fall. She was so flustered, I think I could have fucked her if we weren't standing in a hallway at a high school.Her hand moved a little as if she wanted to touch my dick, then moved back after thinking better of it.
"This can't get more awkward," she frowned.
There was a silent pause. She peeked back into the classroom through the glass in the door. Then Miss Groves tried changing the subject.
"Are you signing up to take my class in the fall? A little bit of English II couldn't hurt you."
"I hadn't thought of it, but I guess I will now."
"Are you going to sit at the back of the class and keep an eye on me like you have this year?"
"Sorry, I didn't know you knew I was watching."
"I'm twenty-two, you're fifteen. If the boys weren't checking me out, I'd be disappointed. It's not like I'm Mrs. Haggerty."
We both chuckled. Mrs. Haggerty was in her sixties and weighed over two hundred pounds. All the kids and, I guess, most of the teachers referred to her as "The Hag." "History with the Hag" was the most excruciating class in school. Miss Groves put her hand on my chest as she started to speak.
"I'm moving into town this August to the apartments just south of the school. It will be a good change from the thirty-minute drive from my parents' house. Maybe you can help me with some heavy boxes or stuff."
I gave her a quick, surprised look.
"Come on. I'm seven years older than you. Think of me as an older sister."
"My dad is ten years older than my mom."
"Oh, are you asking me to marry you right here in this hallway?" She teased in a whisper.
"No, Miss Groves. I don't know why I said that."
"That's okay," she brushed my arm. "And, when it's just us, call me Ellie."
She looked at her chest and at my crotch.
"Maybe now is our chance to get back in there."
"Okay, Miss Groves."
"Ellie," she whispered.
"Ellie," I whispered back.
That felt good. She reached for the door to go back into the room, then turned one last time.
"Whoever it is you're fucking tonight, I meant it, she's a lucky girl."
I watched her ass sway as she opened the door and walked ahead of me back into the room. There was a nervous twitter throughout the class as I took my seat. The rest of the day crawled by. Between Mary Lou's note and the conversation with Miss Groves, I was needing a place to jack off. Luckily, PE class was next, followed by lunch to help clear my mind. Then three more classes, and the school year was over.
Everyone was loud and boisterous on the bus ride home. Mary Lou kept grinning at me. The word was all over school about the kid that never got in trouble got caught with a note in class. Only Mary Lou, Miss Groves, and myself knew what it said. Mary Lou seemed to think it was extremely funny.
Later that night, a naked Mary Lou laid back, spread eagle on her bed, and told me to get her really hot.
"This is our last chance for a while to get all of that cock of yours inside me."
She was beaming and looked sexy as hell as I attacked her soft little cunt. All the happenings of the day were boiling in my balls. The second time, when she was cumming, I caught myself thinking about Miss Ellie Groves. As much as I loved eating Mary Lou's pussy, it was Miss Ellie Groves' cunt I was imagining ramming up against my face. I almost dropped a load on the sheet. In the heat of it all, I made Mary Lou cum again.
"That was intense. I thought you were trying to get my pussy into your throat. I need you to fuck me, fuck me now."
My cock slid in almost to the base. No need to work it in any more. Her bald little snatch was the cunt of a woman on a little girl's body, and she wanted me all in.
"Fuck me, Baby. Fuck me deep. I want you in all the way to the balls."
It was a delicate balance. I had to hold off long enough to give Mary Lou all of my cock like she wanted. I couldn't lose it and stand a chance of getting her pregnant at twelve years of age. And, I couldn't let my thoughts wander to thinking I was fucking Miss Ellie Groves and wanting to leave her knocked up.
The sounds Mary Lou was making told me I was almost giving her all she wanted. From what I know now, I must have been pushing my cock against and slightly into the opening of her cervix. The little girl could sure fuck, and she was at a point where she was out of her fucking mind with pleasure. She was reaching under me to feel my cock. The couldn't have been a half inch left to go in.
"Oh, fuck. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck me, lover. It's almost all in. Push hard, push, fuck me good."
That last half inch put my cock somewhere like it had never been. Mary Lou exploded into orgasm like never before, which, in itself, was pretty amazing. Once she slowed down, pumping back at me, we both laid very still. I somehow managed still not to cum in her.
"Did you cum in me?" She asked breathlessly.
"No, I think I held it okay. I don't know how. It got so tight there up inside you."
"I think you started going right through my cervix. God, what a fuck that was!"
Mary Lou started to move. Not move away. Quite the opposite. She was rocking her crotch up against me. My balls were laying against her sweet little ass. I could feel my cock swell back up and start to throb. Mary Lou groaned.
"I've got you close enough now I can get my legs around you."
She had her legs over my lower waist. I could feel her lock her ankles over my back. That put me in serious trouble as my balls were ready to send my seed deep inside her. I tried to get away, but she had me locked into her cunt. I stopped moving, hoping to hold off as Mary Lou kept rocking her pussy over my shaft.
"God Damn it, Mary Lou, I'm going to cum in you if you don't stop."
"I know."
Her voice sounded far away. Still working my cock, she wouldn't quit.
"Cum in me. I want to feel your seed flow inside me. I have to know how it feels."
That's when I lost it.
"Well, there you go. It's inside you now."
"I could feel it shoot. It feels warm and squishy. And, there is so much of it. It's may be weeks with my cousin visiting before we can do it again. I had to feel your cum in me."
"What if you are going to get pregnant?"
"It would have to be the right week of the right first month. That will be one more thing over Jill, even if she fucked her boyfriend I don't think she would let him cum in her. She'd probably make him wear a rubber because she's so prissy about everything."
"Is Jill the name of your cousin that's visiting?"
"Yes, that's the little whore."
"Wow, you two have some wicked competition."
I never took my cock out of her. The whole thing had me hard again in minutes. We must have fucked another hour with Mary Lou cumming several more times. As I could feel her building to a really big one, I started to tell her I was going to cum in her again.
"Go ahead. Cum deep inside of me. I want your seed in me. I want all of it. Fuck me hard."
Instead of locking her ankles behind me, she grabbed my ass with both hands and pulled me deeper into her. Things were a blur with my ass pumping, my cock spurting, and Mary Lou cumming so hard she was rolling me insanely around on the bed. We laid there together for several minutes, kissing each other and then me kissing her little tits.
"We are so squishy. You have me pumped so full of cum. Wait to you see how much runs out."
I started to pull away. It was getting late.
"Wait before you pull the head out. Let me get my butt in the air so your goo doesn't flood everything."
When I pulled out, a string of my sperm stretched between the head of my cock and her now well-fucked cunt.
"Oh, man. We've got cum all over your sheets."
"Think so? Wait there a few minutes and then watch what happens."
"What are you doing?"
"Holding your cum in me. Making sure it stays deep against my cervix. I didn't let you fuck all that stuff in me just to let it run out."
"Is that a good idea to do that?"
"It's what women do when they want to get pregnant."
"Wait! You want to get pregnant? You'll not even be thirteen when you have the baby!"
"No, Silly. If it was my first time fertile for you to knock me up, I'd already be seeded. I'm just enjoying having it in me."
Cum was starting to bubble out in spite of what she was doing to keep it in.
"Okay, watch this."
Mary Lou came up off the bed on her knees with her ass towards me. The cum poured from her cute little cunt. First in a surge, then a stream, a trickle, and then she held there a couple of minutes while it would puddle up in her slit, then drip on the bed. I couldn't figure how all that could be in there and her not be the mother of my child.
"Surprise! I told you that I had a surprise for you tonight."
Mary Lou was so pleased at having so much run from inside her.
"What's your mom going to say when she sees all this mess?"
"She'd have a cow. That's why I've been doing my own laundry since we started doing what we've been doing. I'll certainly need to get these washed before she sees them."
I rode home in the dark, worrying about the trouble I'd be in if she was indeed impregnated. All I could do is wait. Wait and pray. Her cousin would be in that weekend. We might not get to talk for most of the summer, let alone be with each other.
It would be good news if Mary Lou could start her period for the first time so we would know there was no baby. Or, if she was knocked up, all we could do would be wait for her to start throwing up or see her flat little tummy swell. I couldn't imagine a kid pushing out of her soft, tight little slit or her wearing a maternity top over a swollen belly.
Her cousin Jill showed up with her aunt. They visited for a week before the aunt took the two girls back to Colorado. With the three weeks before Mary went after her and the week she would stay, it would be a month without seeing Mary Lou.My life led into an uncertain summer. | null | null | Authors/Pervert_Pete/Hello Mary Lou.txt |
116,058 | Pervert Pete | Little Jennifer | You see it in the papers, the internet or on the news. An older guy gets busted for underage sex. What you don't know about are the times it happens and the younger girl doesn't tell. I was one of those girls. The whole thing was my idea. I did all the work to fuck my older guy.
My name is Jennifer Lynn. I grew up in Kokomo, Indiana in the 1970s. I was born in 1962 at Howard County General Hospital. I was the eldest with two little brothers. Dad worked at the transmission plant when he and Mom got married. When I was ten, Mom went to work at Delco.
Delco was known for women wanting to be fucked. If you were a guy working there and not getting married pussy, something was wrong with you. One or two men wouldn't be enough. Married or single, for the women it was all about getting out of the house, making good money and settling in under lots of strange cock. Mom got her share, bringing co-workers home during the day when us kids were in school and Dad was at Chrysler. Back then we had extension phones you could pick up and listen. I would listen to guys tell Mom about how they were going to fuck her when they got her alone. From what I could tell, a quick fuck in the car during lunch wasn't that unusual.
Dad was the one unknowingly getting me fucked. Times were really good. Mom and Dad both with union factory jobs pulled in the money and benefits. Couples were making more than some company presidents. No wonder things soon went to shit and went overseas.
So, summer of 1973. I was eleven, still nearly flat-chested and no more hair on my little twat than came on it when I was born. I don't think Dad cheated on Mom, but a few of the neighbors and some of Dad's friends would stop by the house. Me and my brothers would be at friends' houses to play and thought nothing of it. Someone other than Dad must have fucked Mom almost every day. Picture Mom in a 70s house dress with the skirt over her back and some guy fucking her when no one else was at home.
And, back to the summer of 1973. Money was no problem, but there was a room over the garage. Dad had a single friend named Kenny that he thought would be the perfect guy to rent the room and bring in even more money. At the time, Dad was 32, Mom was 29, and Kenny was 25. The way Mom had been hiking up her skirt for so many others, fucking Kenny was a foregone conclusion.
We were a casual family. Meaning it wasn't unusual for Dad to sit around in his underwear and Mom in panties and a t-shirt. Sometimes she'd be naked from the waist around the house with her tits hanging bare. Never mind the young sons. There weren't going to be left wondering what tits looked like when the time came. The only thing good about being eleven and having bee-sting boobs was knowing I should have a set like Mom's soon.
Mom's tits were great. A really nice set of D-Cup knockers. I know. I checked the tags on the bra. Hanging free, they drooped a couple of inches and then hung straight out with the nipples pointing right at a person with not a lot of side hang. They were pretty well hung together in a pair. The nipples were dime-sized and stuck out about a half inch.
It didn't seem to bother Dad that sometimes Kenny would walk in on Mom when she was bare-chested. He probably knew Kenny was fucking her. Maybe that's why Dad moved Kenny in. One man wasn't going to keep up with Mom, and Dad could have been thinking he could keep it in the house. Mom would go up to Kenny's room and come back real happy. Sometimes Kenny would come down with Mom and him and Dad would sit at the kitchen and drink beer. Even then, Mom would be in and out of the kitchen wearing only panties.
I had to believe Dad would fuck her when he got her to bed. Sometimes I'd find Dad drinking alone. Mom and Kenny would be in his room above the garage. They'd come back down with Mom just in panties and Dad and Kenny would go back to drinking. If Dad thought that kept her from fucking neighbors and guys from work, he wasn't hearing the conversations I was eavesdropping on when Mom would be on the phone.
The big tits definitely gave her the advantage over other women at work for cock selection. After being around my little brothers and friends with older brothers, I thought it was a lie when I'd hear Mom talking to one of her regulars about how his ten-inch cock felt in her. One man promised her a foot of black cock if she would meet him in the parking lot at work. Conversations after that proved that she did it. I'd look at my little bald cunt and wonder how Mom could get a foot of anything up inside her.
Later I overheard Mom talking to a girlfriend from work that maybe Mom didn't prefer black cock, but she liked it.
"I don't know why word is around work that I prefer black cock," Mom giggled. "You fuck fifteen or twenty black guys and people think that is all you want fucking you."
"Wait until you get like me and you're talking a hundred."
"Well, the only thing stopping me is the time. I've seen a hundred I'd fuck if I got the chance."
"You should try five or six at once in a little gangbang. I've done that a few times."
Then they talked about being on the pill and letting blacks and whites alike cum in them. Like I said earlier, Delco wives back in the seventies!
So, back to me now that you know how I grew up. I saw that Mom was getting fucked by Kenny and untold others, including lots of black guys. I had to think there was something about sex that was really good. My friend Becky was a year older than me. Not that her being twelve made that much difference. She had a little bit of boob and some sparse hair on her pussy. Becky was ready to try out what I had been thinking. She had a boy she liked that was fourteen that she thought he was hot shit.
Becky's Mom had gotten my Mom her Delco job. She had started at Delco when Becky was in first grade in school. Becky's Mom must have scored a mile of cock before Mom started working there.
It was my job to keep Becky's other guy busy while she fucked the fourteen-year-old she had the crush on. So, Becky lost her cherry to this kid. The buddy was so nervous he didn't try anything with me. For Becky, there was a little bit of blood and a trickle of semen in her. The kid had a four-inch dick and Becky didn't get anything like she expected.
The next day she wanted to try it again and let both boys fuck her. They met a couple of more times when Becky talked me into trying it. She said it felt good to have a boy between your legs. Well, I did it. It hurt. Maybe eleven years old for me was pushing the limits a little. Except for fucking Becky, what did two fourteen-year-olds know about sex?
Maybe my answer was Kenny. He was close. You know, in the house and fucking Mom close. Everybody knew it. Even my little brothers figured out Mom was fucking Kenny. I teased Kenny by showing up in his room or letting him catch me in the kitchen in just panties. I knew I couldn't beat Mom's tits, but I did have my little something in my panties that put a bulge in Kenny's jeans.
Even though without boobs, my nipples got hard around Kenny when I'd show off topless. Kenny noticed. I'd bend over or move my legs in such a way that Kenny could see my bald pussy inside my underwear. Kenny was going to be the guy. Four-inch teenage cock wasn't going to do me any more good than it would Mom.
Kenny was losing control. A twenty-five-year-old man shouldn't be alone with a mostly naked eleven-year-old girl. I caught him looking at my chest. Instead of backing away, I sat in his lap on his bed. Mom and Dad didn't know I'd go to Kenny's room. It was just me and him. His cock was hard through the cloth and poking my ass. I squirmed a little and had his bent-over shaft nestled in my slit.
Poor Kenny was scared, but he wasn't stupid. Any girl squirming on your cock meant just one thing. My nipples weren't far from his face.
"Do you think I'll get boobs like Mom some day?"
"I'm sure you will, and they will be something to see."
"I've got nothing but some swelling under my nipples now."
Kenny could see my nipples were hard. I took my fingers and brushed them into even more hardness. There wasn't a lot there, but Kenny was a goner. My pussy was soaking for such a young girl. Should I even be getting wet?
"Want to touch them? Maybe you can get them to stick out more."
Wow! I had a real man touch me. I knew I didn't dare tell my friend or anybody else for that matter. There must have been a connection. I could feel a tingle from my nipples all the way through my tummy to my little cunt. That went on for maybe ten minutes. I stood up and faced him, sitting down on his lap again, my legs on the outside of his thighs. That lump in his pants pressed into my crotch.
"Maybe you'd like to kiss and lick them," I teased.
There wasn't any way back now for Kenny. He smothered my boobs with kisses and licked my nipples between his lips. That lump in his pants now pressed against my clit. I didn't know what a clit was, but it had a fire to it.
Mom worked afternoons.I'd have Kenny until 11:30 when Mom got home. Dad would be asleep, and Mom would fuck Kenny before getting in bed with Dad. All I had to do was listen for Dad's footsteps on the stair landing so we wouldn't get caught.
I kissed Kenny. A couple of times, like Dad kissing me goodnight. Then I pushed my tongue in Kenny's mouth. Kenny was quick to respond in kind. My first romance kiss, and I was getting turned on.
Then Kenny stopped. Probably realized the fear of jail time. Eleven was most certainly jail bait.
"Why are you stopping, Kenny?"
"This is too much. I never should have touched you."
"Is it because my titties are so small, not at all like Mom's?"
"No, it's not that. We never should have done that."
"How about my pussy, Kenny?"
"What? No!"
"Come on, Kenny. My pussy is way smaller than Mom's, Kenny. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Kenny?"
"No... don't say that. We have to stop..."
"But you can't say when to stop anymore, Kenny. You went too far. Now only I can say stop."
"Okay, we will stop."
"I didn't say stop, now did I?"
The look on Kenny's face was priceless. I'd never seen a man so scared. He'd fucked my Mom, no doubt with Dad's approval. Kenny knew Dad wouldn't feel the same about Kenny fucking, let alone touching, his daughter.
"What about my little pussy? Would you like to see my childlike eleven-year-old pussy? It's smooth and hairless. What man wouldn't want to see that? Touch that. Maybe even fuck it. Could you imagine how big your cock would look sticking out of my little pre-teen cunt?"
Kenny was trapped. He'd gone too far. I took off my panties and let him look at my puffy little twat.
"Touch it!"
"I shouldn't."
"We both know you shouldn't, but don't forget who was bad and who is in charge. Touch it!"
I had Mom's lover and boyfriend wrapped around my finger. His cock was huge in his pants. His hand reached out and brushed my crotch with the backs of two fingers.
"I said touch it. Feel me."
This was the power Mom felt. Probably what all the Delco women felt. It wasn't just getting fucked; it was the power of having a cunt. His middle finger traced along my slit.
"Put a finger in me, Kenny?"
This time no response. I shifted my thighs apart to give him room. A finger pressed inside me. I rocked down on it until our rhythm matched. His finger was in me to the second joint. I was getting finger-fucked by a full-grown man. He made me cum. I was going to need more of that.
"I want to see your cock."
He tried to unfasten his pants and keep the finger moving inside me.
"Get your cock out, Kenny. You can put your finger back in me again."
With his finger out of me, I felt a little weak in the knees, wanting the finger back fucking inside me.
His cock was out. I could see Mom's constant interest. It was huge with a big head and really long.
"Shit, Kenny. How big is that thing?"
"Nine inches. You'll never be able to take it," he almost laughed.
"I'm eleven years old, Kenny. I didn't say I was a virgin."
Kenny gave me a puzzled look.
"A couple of boys fucked me. Not really worth the bother. Not any more anyway."
I touched the head of his cock. Ran my hand down the shaft. Wondered how Mom took the big head and how much of the shaft. Then I remembered the eavesdropping. Mom had taken lots more than this, she had told her friend.
"Let's see if we can get some of this in me."
Kenny stared back at me. At the time, Kenny had no option to set limits. He'd try to fuck me. An eleven-year-old girl on a 25-year-old man with an oversized cock.
"Bend over the table."
I wasn't giving some guy any control.
"No way! If it goes in, I want to see it go in me."
I was looking down at three times more cock than I had pussy to handle it. My slit was a little damp. The slippery good stuff. Kenny ran the head along my slit. He was leaking some pre-cum to lube me up. I was holding on to the table, trying not to slide across it as his cock pushed against me. He was pushing against my little cunny hole.
There was a little more dipping into me. He wasn't getting any smaller. The fourteen-year-olds hadn't done anything to me, barely opened me up. I was watching the tip was working inside my outer lips. The inner lips were having no part of it. Then I could feel them open a little as well. I was stretching in an attempt to take the large cock.
The obscenity of it all made Kenny shoot his load. With the head making tight contact with my tight pussy, his load spurted inside me. Wow! A man's load was a lot different. It made me cum!
That seemed to make the difference with me cumming and his seed making me slick. I watched more of the impossible head move into me. Kenny watched, too. There was a good chance I was going to take it. He was in, except for the last part of the rim showing outside my outer lips. The inner lips were going to be the problem, although I could feel some progress there as well.
My legs were spread out in almost a straight line as I struggled to get at least that part of him inside me. I was rolling my hips, and Kenny pressed, trying to go deeper. I could feel myself stretch. It was beginning to hurt. Not that I wouldn't tolerate a little pain to get him inside me.
Wait... what just happened? The head was in. Kenny had a big grin on his face. We just held it there for a while. All I could see was the shaft of his cock. Granted, there was still seven or eight inches outside of me, but I had the head inside of me. It should go in now. I was the one that started fucking. I was very gentle with myself. I felt some cock slide past my cunt opening.
What was that now? Two or three inches past the head? Oh, my God. It didn't hurt. It wasn't even uncomfortable. Then things got pretty tight. Kenny started fucking into me as he began to meet my movements. He had pretty good control. The fourteen-year-olds had lasted only seconds. This was like maybe fifteen minutes when the next load of sperm squirted inside me. Kenny had made me cum twice while fucking, and this blast of seed made me cum harder than the earlier ones combined.
I left Kenny inside me until he softened. Even though not hard, he made a plopping noise leaving me. His seed ran from my well-fucked little cunt.
"Want to try it again before your Mom gets home?"
"You'll get another chance, but not tonight. Your cock is so huge, and I am just a little girl. You just fucked an eleven-year-old, Kenny. I'm still a preteen, and you've just wrecked my little pussy with your big cock."
I kissed Kenny and went to my room. He'd probably fucked Mom when she got home and pretended she was me taking it all. I heard Mom and Dad's door close almost forty-five minutes after Mom got home. I could hear Mom get loud while Dad fucked her. Another night of Mom fucking two cocks, and she probably fucked at least one guy at work. I knew I was going to be my mother's daughter.
The next morning, Kenny and Dad had gone to work as usual. Mom made us breakfast. I watched her moving around the kitchen. I wondered if she was leaking cum like I was. At school, I was in the restroom between every class, dabbing Kenny's cum out of me. Me thinking about Kenny fucking me kept me pretty wet on my own. By mid-afternoon, I decided to see how the mixture would taste. Ummm, something else I liked. I didn't need to dab with toilet paper. Whatever would come out of me, I would lick from my fingers.
That night it was more of a dribble. I would wait for a drop to form in my slit, take a finger and transfer it to my tongue.
It was Dad's job to make our supper. Usually, it was something pretty good. I tried to make it to Kenny's room. With little brothers and Dad popping up every here and there, I wasn't having any luck. Finally, after supper, I got a chance to say something.
"I'm still leaking cum out of me. How much did you put in there?" I whispered.
"Would you like some more, little girl?"
"Don't press your luck, big boy. You'll get your chance."
Dad and Kenny drank a few beers while watching sports on TV. I did take a chance after my shower when I went through the room in front of Dad and Kenny to put my dirty clothes in the laundry, wearing only my panties. Dad didn't say anything. He had no idea the effect I was having on Kenny. All we got was a quick kiss and feel in the hall before I went to bed.
The week went by with no opportunity to try more of Kenny's cock. He was fucking the hell out of Mom every night after she got home from work. I didn't feel any desperation for Kenny's cock, but I was wanting some more of it. Maybe get a couple of more inches the next time.
Getting to the weekend didn't help. Mom would step away to fuck Kenny several times. Dad wouldn't say anything. I wish I could just go off and fuck him like Mom seemed to be doing with Dad's approval. I wondered about Mom and all the fucking she got from Dad and Kenny. Then there was the pussy she gave away at work. She must have been fucking a half dozen different guys a week. Probably more. Then there were the five days a week when Mom was home alone with us kids in school and Dad and Kenny at work.
Finally, we got our break. Dad was taking my brothers to the mall for new shoes. I opted to stay home, knowing what would be in store for me with Kenny. Mom was at work when Dad headed to the mall with the boys. Kenny and I had a free shot. Kenny wanted me in his bed. I wanted him in mine. Let him enjoy the whole little girl theme, complete with all the pink.
The only pink of interest to Kenny was my pink nipples and the pink inside my cunt. He made over my boobs like I really had tits. My nipples connected to my pussy. I was getting wet. It wasn't that I was just eleven.I wasn't going to be twelve for ten more months. We were both naked on my bed. I had Kenny's huge cock in my hand while I licked at my hard points where I'd have boobs some day.
Kenny went between my legs. I spread eagle, waiting to see how his cock went in me this time. Instead, he went down on me. I'd heard guys on the phone telling Mom they couldn't wait to eat her cunt. I couldn't imagine what they meant until that moment. His tongue in my slit felt amazing. Then he went at my clit. Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Bam! Five times, just like that. He made me cum five times in like two minutes. I just stared down at his face.
"I knew you'd like that. It drives your Mom crazy."
Maybe not a romantic thing you'd say to a girl about her mother. Hell, I was in. One more thing for Mom and I to have in common. Who needed cock? I could settle for that.
Not that I was going to have to settle for that. Kenny had his cock working at my entrance. It was still a struggle to get him inside me, but easier than before. My bald little pussy looked impossibly stuffed with Kenny's nine inches wanting access to deep inside me. It was only a couple of minutes until he was as deep in me as he had been our first time.
We ended up with a couple of inches that wasn't going anywhere. I was cumming like crazy. Kenny put a load deep inside me. He kept it hard enough to feel good until he was hard again. We must have fucked for an hour. At first, I was concerned about the couple of inches that wouldn't fit. Soon that wasn't important as we fucked with as much of his fat nine-inch dick as he could get buried inside me.
I fussed about making sure my room showed no signs of Kenny fucking Dad's little girl. I walked a little funny. A skinny kid that had just taken that much cock was going to be a little hollow inside and tend to be wobbly.
Saturday, I fucked Kenny while Dad mowed the yard. That got to be our day. We both hoped it never snowed again. Mom would have my brothers grocery shopping with her. Once a week with Kenny was enough for a kid getting fucked. Every now and then, we'd get in an extra. We were careful not to show any indication of what was going on. Maybe except for Kenny. Kenny was fucking Mom a lot.
Dad sent me and Kenny on a beer run once. I sucked his cock in a dark corner away from the store. Had there been room and time, I would have let him fuck me. I wondered how Mom had room to fuck guys at work. I guess those custom vans were handy, and Mom's car was pretty big. You could smell sex in it sometimes.
Fucking Kenny was great. We kept it reasonable. I had been feeling his balls slapping my butt more. Then, the month before my twelfth birthday, there was that Saturday that we realized that I had the whole nine inches in me. It made Kenny blow his nuts as soon as he realized it. I hurried to catch up, hitting a giant orgasm realizing that the adult that had been fucking my bare little pussy for months was, as I had heard Mom say over the phone, "Balls Deep".
For several days after we'd fuck, I'd have this little baby bump on my tummy like I was swelling with child. I guess from accommodating all that cock inside me and Kenny's cum. It would still leak from me through the next day. Continuing well past my twelfth birthday, the tummy bump stayed. My little body was now built to take Kenny's nine-inch cock.
Kenny had been fucking me for over a year. We were finding careful ways to fuck and not get caught. Some weeks, Kenny would nail me three times. Once even four times on a Sunday at a cabin Dad rented. Mom had fucked Kenny a couple of times on Saturday, and I was thinking I wouldn't get a chance. Then everyone went out on a boat. Kenny said he would rather fish from the dock. I wanted to fish with Kenny.
Sure now. Fish with Kenny. I was full of cock by the time the boat was out of sight. After all, how much trouble could a twelve-year-old get in while fishing? I teased Kenny by skinny dipping in the lake. He fucked me in the water. He fucked me twice on the deck where we all sat to eat and once in the bedroom. It was better than being married. How many married women get fucked like that? Well, not counting Mom and the Delco girls.
Kenny wasn't going anywhere. He didn't pay much rent, and Dad wanted the money. Mom sure wouldn't let him leave. Kenny wouldn't go and give up fucking his little "teenie bopper," as he called me. I was thirteen now. My tits were starting to be buds now. Mom and Dad still hadn't said anything about me being around the house with my tits showing and Kenny around. Mom wasn't wearing a top much anymore and was even naked with Dad and Kenny some of the time. Kenny would fuck her, and Dad would watch when they thought us kids weren't around.
Mom wanted me to get a bra. I offered to wear thicker tops. That seemed to put that off for a while. I didn't want a bra, and the heavy cloth keeps my nipples aroused. Hair started to grow sparsely on my cunt. I kept it shaved so I could be Kenny's little girl. I kept it so smooth that he had no idea... even when he was eating my pussy.
I was almost fourteen when my period started. Lucky for us, Kenny hadn't knocked me up. After that, I counted my days, and if me and Kenny were fucking when I was fertile, he would pull out instead of cumming in me. I wouldn't have cared. I would have married him at fourteen. The problem was that he was now twenty-nine.
So, this is what I meant by not all the sad stories about an older man fucking some young girl aren't the full story. There are probably lots of us out there that did like I did. Kenny's ass was mine for as long as I wanted his cock in me.
When I turned eighteen, I finished high school. Kenny was thirty-two. Now I have the big tits. I quit shaving my cunt. I've got quite a growth down there. Kenny still buries his face down there a lot. Fucking every night is our expected norm. Weekends are unlimited pussy.
I'm nineteen now and on the pill. No kids any time soon for us. Kenny thought I should get a job so we could buy a house. Mom got me one at Delco. You know how that is going. I didn't get in a full week until I got fucked after work. Kenny actually thinks I go out to get a bite to eat with the girls. I've got one guy with an apartment on the way home. He's a nice black man that told me I would enjoy his foot-long black cock. I've been going home with him every night after work. Even sneaked off to fuck him twice on weekends. I've been thinking about spending the night.
What would you expect from a girl that was getting nine inches when she was just turned eleven years of age? I am my mother's daughter and Kenny's wife... a Delco girl. | null | null | Authors/Pervert_Pete/Little Jennifer.txt |
116,114 | null | Their New Daughter | Young Penny and her new parents walked out of the front garden gate and turned along the sidewalk. As they walked, Penny held Mummy's hand and looked around at the wonderful bright flowers glowing in the sunshine. At church that very morning, her new friend Pricilla's parents had invited them to come for tea in the afternoon. Penny was about to burst with happiness. She had, in just the short time after Sister Ruth had brought her from the orphanage, become a member of a real family with a very loving mother and father. She had started school where she was allowed to walk every day all by herself, that is, until she had met Pricilla. Her new friend lived just down the street, and now they were the very best of friends. Penny loved her new family very much and was certain that living in this little village was the most wonderful thing that had ever happened to her.
"Good afternoon, Mr. and Mrs. Loft," Penny heard, and looked around to see the kind lady who lived next door as she stepped up to the white picket fence separating her garden from the sidewalk. "What a nice day for a walk. And there is little Penny. How are you today?" she asked the little girl.
"I'm just fine," Penny replied, smiling up at the nice elderly lady.
"Is that a new frock?" the neighbor asked, "You look so pretty in it, and I think the blue is just the color of your eyes. Give us a little turn so that I can see it all around?"
Penny giggled her little girl laugh and, letting go of Mummy's hand, spun around as fast as she could. The spin was so fast that her new blue dress flew up to almost her slim waist.
"Oh, I see that you have left off your knickers," the lady chuckled, "what a wonderful sight!"
Penny blushed charmingly and, looking up quickly at Mummy, said, "But Mummy said it was alright to go without."
Both women laughed, and Father patted her shining hair. The lady then turned, calling out to her husband who had been clipping spent flowers. When the gentleman had stepped up to the fence and nodded hello once again to the Loft family, his wife said, "Look how pretty little Penny is today, and she has just given me the most charming glimpse of her cunny. Could we please see it again? I'm sure my husband hasn't seen such a wonderful little sweet in a long time."
When her proud mother gave her a smiling nod, Penny lifted her blue frock and held it up to her flat chest. The old couple both leaned on the fence, and the Lofts each stepped to the side and joined them in appreciation of the sight before them. Penny parted her thin legs slightly and seemed to push her flat tummy out, grinning with pleasure at the adult attention. The adults were treated to the pouting, tight pink folds of Penny's beauty. Her shiny patent shoes and pale blue lace-topped anklets only added to the naughtiness of her nudity.
"I do hope someday you will let us give it a kiss. You are a wonderful child," the lady said with a warm smile.
The family then said goodbye and thank you as they returned to their walk. Penny turned to look back and wave at her nice neighbors. She grinned again when she saw that the nice lady had put her hand into the front of the nice man's trousers.
Soon they came to the Greenville house and let themselves in the front gate and up the front steps to the door. Mr. Loft knocked, and the door was quickly answered by Pricilla.
"Mother, they're here!" she shouted. "Please come in!"
Both Penny and Pricilla grinned at each other, and the two girls took hands and rushed in. Eveline Greenville came into the hallway and invited her guests in, showing them to the parlor. Penny quickly noticed that there were others sitting around the room. It was going to be a real party. Mrs. Greenville was offering tea and pastries, and most of the others had cups and saucers. Penny started to sit with her parents, but Pricilla held onto her hand. Mr. and Mrs. Loft were seated and supplied with tea and smiled and greeted the other families. Rev. Pious and his wife were there as well as their thirteen-year-old son Luke and twelve-year-old Mary. Penny was pleased and surprised to see her teacher Miss Prim sitting with Mr. Greenville. Pricilla's two brothers, John who was twelve and nine-year-old Frankie, were sitting together at the side.
Soon the adults were visiting and talking about all of those things that adults usually talk about. Also, as usual, the children soon gathered to themselves, not paying any attention to the grownups. Eventually, a game developed as the children sat in a circle on the rugged floor. The other children who had not spent time with Penny began to ask her about where she had come from and what the orphanage was like. They all felt a great deal of sympathy for the young girl to have grown without a family. After all, a family was the most important thing there was. When the seemingly harmless questions began to make Penny sad, Pricilla noticed. She quickly admonished the others and took her friend into her arms and kissed her.
Penny responded to the affection of her friend's kiss and offered her tongue to the girl. The sudden passion affected both girls, and the kiss carried on. Pricilla guided Penny back onto the rug where they had been sitting in a group. She covered her friend's body with hers as they sucked tongues into each other's mouths. When Penny felt someone run a hand up her thigh, she realized where she was. The embarrassed youngster pushed Pricilla off and quickly sat up, looking around in alarm.
When Penny looked around at the mothers and fathers, and especially hers, she was aware everyone was looking at her too. She was so afraid that she had done something wrong and went directly to her mother. Just as she was about to say how sorry she was with tears in her eyes, Mummy gathered her into her arms. Mummy soothed her and kissed her tears and eventually managed to calm Penny. She then began to explain to the frightened little girl that no one was angry with her. Pricilla came to them and told of how she had noticed the sadness in Penny and had only been comforting her. Mummy then asked Penny if she had enjoyed her friend's comforting.
"Oh yes!" she said, "I love Pricilla. I was just afraid that we shouldn't be showing love that way with everyone else here in the parlor." Penny looked out of the corner of her eyes at the adults watching. She didn't notice the warm smiles and not a few hot looks.
"My dear, haven't Daddy and I told you that love is never wrong? Pricilla was loving you in the way her family has always shown love. Everyone here shows their love for others whenever they can, often because others are watching." Mummy said, "Would you like to show Pricilla how much you love her?"
Penny sniffed and nodded her head, looking at her friend.
"Why don't I help you," Her mother replied, "I'm sure everyone would think it was quite wonderful for you to make love with your friend, and I know all of us would like to see you enjoy it."
Having said this, she stood Penny out in front of her and lifted her blue dress up over the child's head. She placed the dress to the side and smoothed Penny's hair and once again gathered her into her arms. Penny opened her mouth to her mother's kiss and accepted the probing tongue as she felt hands cupping her bare bottom cheeks. When she opened her eyes as Mummy released her, she saw that Pricilla had removed her own dress and was just as naked. The two young girls stood a moment and then rushed into each other's arms.
All around the room, every eye was on the pair. The sun shone in the open curtains, and the room was brightly lit. There in the center of the parlor, in front of the gathered mothers and fathers, under the rapt attention of the reverend preacher and the school teacher, were two naked little girls. Their chests were mostly flat, although Pricilla's breasts were more pronounced rounded mounds with gumdrop nipples. Both girls were slim with wonderful jutting pink bottom cheeks with a hint of dimple and more than a hint of pleasure hidden in the crease between. Unfortunately, due to the embrace, no one could enjoy the sight of two pink cunnys. Nonetheless, everyone appreciated the two slim bodies that, as is often the case, seemed more naked for still having on stockings and shoes.
Penny felt herself being drawn down, and soon her friend's body was over hers as the tongues licked back and forth. She was in a trance of pleasure as her little body reacted to the passion of the kiss. Pricilla was sliding around on her, and she felt the girl's slim thighs settle on either side of her head, and next she felt the kiss of a sweet wet cunny on her lips. She offered her tongue to this kiss as well, just as she felt the tongue delve into her own burning pink puss. The time then seemed to stretch out, and she was unaware of her audience who watched closely as they began to delve into one another's clothing. She felt the racking jolt of orgasm as she filled Pricilla's mouth with her nectar, and her own lips were covered with Pricilla's sweet juices.
Penny lay dazed, still resting, until her legs were spread wide, and she looked up into her father's eyes. She grinned up at him as she saw that he was naked too.He held his hard cock and used it to rub up and down the length of her wet cunny. Penny looked back over her head and looked around the room. Everyone was naked now. She watched as Priscilla took the head of her father's hard cock into her mouth. Mrs. Greenville was sprawled back on a settee as her oldest son John began to push his cock into her open cunt while his brother Frankie fed his boy cock to her mouth. Reverend Pious held his daughter's head to his dripping wet cock with one hand while his other was busy between her legs. Mrs. Pious had her legs wrapped around her son Luke as he worked his cock into her. Penny then found her mother kneeling between Miss Prim's wide-spread thighs as she sucked the open lips there.
Penny worked her hips, moving her little pussy over her father's cock head as he trailed it from top to bottom. He would pause to probe with it in her bottom a little, then up to push at the entrance of her cunny, always pushing just a bit of the head into her sweet openings. Her wonderful, loving new father had told her how sorry he was that he had gotten so carried away that first day when she had come to live with them. He said that he shouldn't have put his whole cock into her little pussy, but that he had loved her so and passion had taken over. Remembering how intense some of the feelings she had when he and Mummy had made love to her since then made her accept how easy it was to lose control. They both promised that soon she would be able to take a full-grown cock anywhere she wanted.
Right now, it looked as if she was about to take one in her mouth. Father was lifting over her to straddle and knee-walk up to her face. He offered the wet, dripping head of his cock to her lips. She opened her mouth and licked the combined juices of her own cunny and his clear oil. Her tongue gathered the sweetness up, and then she took the head into her mouth and began to suck. She licked the dripping hole, and then her cheeks hollowed as she took as much of its length into her throat as she could. As her head was a little confined by her father's legs, they finally settled into a rhythm of him fucking her mouth. As he withdrew his cock, Penny quickly licked it clean, then he would push it back in to be sucked as hard as she could on the way back out, over and over. Then he stopped and held his cock just within her lips, and with a shudder and sigh, began to shoot spurt after spurt of hot cream over her tongue. She licked and swallowed, and licked and swallowed until the spasms stopped, and she cleaned the head one last time.
Father reached back and cupped Penny's little pussy. His fingers opened the swollen lips and slipped into the tiny hole there, riding smoothly on the slick wetness running freely. He probed in the hot opening with his middle finger as he squeezed the lips together. Penny lifted her hips into his hand, pushing her father's finger deeper and mashing her hard little clit into his palm. Quickly, the excitement overcame her, and the youngster's body shuddered and bucked with the intense pleasure of release.
When Penny next became aware of her surroundings, she found that she had been placed on one of the settees. The others around her were also resting. She looked over the parlor, seeing what at first must seem like any ordinary tea party, except everyone was naked. Even though her parents had tried to explain what would probably happen at the tea, most of what they said had been lost in her excitement at visiting Priscilla. She now realized that the traditional first pairing of family members must have been when she had sucked her father. Mother had at some time told her that when families gathered and everyone made love, the first pairings were always with family members. This was in honor of the long traditions of the Village where family love was central to life. Her young child's mind had not connected these ideas with reality.
Now that the traditional first family couplings were over, Penny could see that the adults were resting and having refreshments, but still naked, and as they talked, she saw that often breasts were caressed, cocks were grasped and stroked in their soft form. She moved her head enough to see that the children were scattered about with the grownups and were the recipients of much attention, not from their parents.
Reverend Pious was seated next to Penny and noticed that she was awake. He reached over the arm of the settee and smoothed her shiny hair as he smiled down at her.
"Young Miss Penny," he said in a low voice, "do you think that you might help your minister with a pleasant task? It seems that my daughter has taken the starch out of my member and stored it in her bottom. I would very much appreciate a little girl kissing it to see if I have some stiffness left. Do you think you might help me?"
Penny sat up and looked around at all the others. Her mother was sitting with Priscilla and Mary and had been enjoying their attention to her full breasts. She had evidently heard the preacher's request and smiled at Penny and gave her an encouraging nod. Penny then smiled shyly at the minister and went to kneel between his legs.
Reverend Pious spread his legs wider, offering a clear field to the young girl. Penny gathered his soft cock in her little hand and began to kiss the head and lick it about. She worked her other hand under to cup his balls just as her father had instructed her. With her face in the man's crotch, Penny became aware of another of her mother's explanations and began to study not only the cock in front of her face but to notice those around her. The reverend had shaved the hair from his crotch, as had all of the other grown men in the room. Like her new father, they had only a small heart-shaped patch of curly hair well above the shaft of their cocks. As she licked the balls in her hand, she could feel no hair there and agreed in her mind that it did make kissing and sucking pleasant.
The women had also shaved themselves, leaving the little heart above and open smooth lips below. Both mother and father had told her that most everyone agreed that the smooth, hairless cocks and cunts of children were the most beautiful, and grownups shaved for this reason as well. It was also a sign to others that they were free to love.
The cock in her hand lifted its head under her strokes, and the clear oil began to seep from the little hole in its end. Penny licked it away and took the big knob into her little mouth and sucked with hollowed cheeks. After some minutes in which she had licked away lots of oil and had brought the rested member up to its full hardness, the kind reverend cupped her face in his large hands and pulled her up. He covered her lips with his and sucked her tongue into his mouth, enjoying the taste of his own oil on her little tongue.
"You have done an excellent job, my dear. I don't know when I've answered the call so quickly. I only wish that you were just a little older so that I might offer my love offering to your little cunny." He chuckled, "but I see that the pretty Miss Prim is not occupied at the moment, so I may offer it to her."
Miss Prim was indeed unoccupied but not without a task. She was kneeling over young Luke as he sat on the floor with his strong boy cock in her sucking mouth. Reverend Pious then went about occupying her cunt with his newly awakened cock.
Penny sat back on her heels and wiped her mouth with her fingers as she watched her teacher being fucked by one cock as she sucked another. Fucked by the father and the son together. Penny began to rub her wet little pussy as she watched the others around her begin to form pairs again. Her mother had Mary tonguing her open cunt as Priscilla stood on the sofa with a foot to either side and her young cunny in mother's face. Her father was behind the kneeling Mrs. Pious and seemed to have his hard cock well pushed into her bottom hole. Mr. Greenville seemed to be performing the same service for his son John as John was sucking his younger brother. Penny brought herself to another shuddering orgasm with two fingers in her cunny and inspired by the activities around her, she pushed another finger up her tight bottom.
Beside her, Reverend Pious grunted and shot his love offering into Miss Prim's accepting cunt just as his son offered his boy juice to her mouth. Miss Prim looked down at little Penny fingering herself beside them and smiled.
"Would you like to share the love offering?" she whispered.
She then put one leg over the young girl and brought her dripping cunt lips to Penny's mouth. Penny opened her lips as the combined sweet nectar dribbled over her mouth. Her fingers fairly flew in and out of her tight holes.
Kisses on her face brought Penny around once more. Mother lay beside her on the rug and kissed her awake. She had blanked out again and was a little taken aback that she still had her own fingers in her pussy and bottom. Mummy rescued the fingers and licked them clean, and as she pushed her tongue into Penny's mouth, the girl could taste lots of cunt cream.
"Are you having a good time?" she was asked.
"Oh yes, Mummy! I have had ever so much fun. This has been a wonderful tea party," she replied.
"I noticed that you enjoyed watching everyone. Have you seen anything you didn't understand or would like to try?" Mother asked.
"Daddy was fucking Mrs. Pious in her bottom, and Priscilla's father did that to John. I didn't know about that. But I liked my finger there," she answered sweetly.
"You know, I think I have something you will enjoy very much. You understand that you are too small yet for grown-up cocks to be comfortable inside you? But would you like to have a smaller boy cock? Luke and John and even little Frankie have asked if they could fuck you. Would you like to try that?" Mother said as she caressed her daughter's cheek.
"Oh yes!""I really didn't mind Daddy's cock in me, but he said he shouldn't have," Penny said breathlessly.
Soon, everyone was gathered around the center of the parlor. Furniture was arranged, and the adults were seated in a large circle. Penny's mother explained to her that what she was about to experience was very special and it would be very exciting, but would also be very intense. If she wanted to stop at any time, she had only to say so, as no one would want to hurt her. With her young daughter's permission, she then instructed John to lie back on the floor. After she had John arranged, she asked Priscilla if she would be so kind as to lick John's cock and get it very wet, while she did the same for Penny's cunny.
When all was ready, Penny was arranged over John, and her mother guided his hard boy cock to the opening of her pussy. Penny was told to let herself down slowly until John was fully inside. Even though she had taken her father's large cock, it had only been once, so John's cock felt like a pole as she settled over it. Gradually, he was fully buried in the hot wetness of the little girl. There was no pain, only pleasure in the almost new experience. John had been well instructed and did not begin to fuck until Penny began to work her hips over him.
Mother stayed by her side, caressing her daughter's back and kissing her often. She fondled Penny's little swollen pink nipples and brought one of John's hands up to help. When she judged that nature had taken over in the movements of the two children, she worked her hand under Penny's bottom until she could feel the boy's cock sliding in and out. She wet her finger with their juices and brought it to Penny's bottom hole and began to work it in. She often went back for more juice until she had the whole finger inside. Penny was by this time not only riding the cock in her cunny but pushing back at the finger in her bottom.
Mrs. Loft winked and motioned to Frankie to join her. Still fingering Penny's bottom, she sucked the boy's cock, slathering it with wetness. Frankie, knowing what to do, began to kneel behind Penny as her mother withdrew her finger and pushed her daughter down over John.
Penny groaned at the emptying of her bottom but gasped aloud when young Frankie began to slowly feed his boy cock into the opened treasure. Her mother was again kissing her face and offering her tongue as the boys began to work in unison, fucking the young girl. The years of practice evident in their movements. John pushing in as his brother pulled out in rhythm was making Penny dizzy. She rode and pushed and fucked herself, helping the two boys. She shouldn't have been surprised when yet another hard young cock was offered to her pretty pink lips. She had to gasp for breath now as she was filled in every opening, cocks going in and out, unable to concentrate on anything but the incredible feeling of fullness. Love was being pumped into her. She felt that she could taste the cock in her little cunny, the hot bar in her bottom seemed to be probing to her very center. She wanted to suck the very essence from the cock in her mouth and feel it run over the two others. The boys were wonderful, each pushing in his turn, cock sliding into her cunny and being pushed out by the cock in her bottom, while she sucked in the one in her mouth, her bottom tightening on the other two.
Mrs. Loft watched for the signs of completion, and when it looked as if John and Frankie were almost there, she wet her finger in her own dripping cunt and pushed it into Luke's bottom. Suddenly, Penny gasped as much as she could with her mouth full. She bounced up and down on John and seemed to be shoving herself back to Frankie and dragging Luke by his cock.
Penny was afraid that she was drowning. Suddenly, hot liquid was pouring into her. Her mouth was full, but strangely, so was her bottom, and it felt as if she was about to burst if she didn't pee. However, drowning felt it couldn't be this wonderful. Her entire body was glowing as if it were burning. Pleasure washed over her in torrents of sweet hot cream. As much as she wanted to keep the spurting cocks in her, she could take no more and fell in a faint on the boy below her.
The entertainment had its effect on those watching as well. By the time Penny had slumped to the floor, the other cocks in the parlor were erupting. Penny's father had pulled young Mary onto his lap and chased her father's earlier offering in her bottom with his own. Priscilla's father was enjoying filling her mouth with his hot cream as he watched his sons fuck the wonderful new girl. Reverend Pious was emptying his juice into Miss Prim's open mouth as his wife stroked and aimed it. As the adults calmed from the exciting climax, they watched Penny's new mother bathe her with her tongue, cleaning every drop of boy cream from her naked little body.
Penny could hardly remember being dressed and carried home. Her new mother and father washed her and put her in her nightie and placed her in bed. Both kissed her goodnight, and as they looked back from the bedroom door, they laughed at the little girl's permanent smile.
The End. | null | Chapter 3 | Authors/olda/Their New Daughter Chapter 3.txt |
116,118 | null | The Gift | You hear a knock at your cabin door on a stormy night. You open the door to find me wet, cold, and shivering. I ask to use your phone, but you apologize that your phone, heat, and power are out. You offer to help me get warm, but only if I do exactly what you say. I am so cold and out of options, so I agree.
Your cabin is dimly lit, and the small fire is not enough to warm me. You tell me to get out of my wet clothes and get into a large empty bathtub. You tell me to sit still and face forward. You don't have any warm water, but you can do better than that. I sit cold and shivering but follow your instructions exactly.
Then I feel you getting into the tub with me. You sit behind me, sliding your legs on either side of me. You tell me to be still and quiet, lay my head back, close my eyes, and breathe slowly and deeply. I obey, and you press my head back against your breasts. You turn the water on very slowly, and your body helps to slowly warm the water.
I start to relax and fall slowly asleep. You are slowly stroking my cock, not enough to wake me, but slowly making my body respond. When I awake, I feel warm, and my cock is throbbing, as you rub it just enough to keep me just about to cum. You sense that I am awake and remind me to follow your previous instructions.
You continue stroking me, torturing me, keeping me right on the edge. Until I disobey you and begin to beg you to let me come. "Please let me come." But you stop me at the first word, taking your hand away, and I feel an intense feeling of loss. Then you speak, your voice so sensual, purring in my ear, "Ah, ah, ah, you must not speak, my pet, not until I tell you to."
When I remain quiet, you start to stroke me again, slowly. My body relaxes again; it feels so good, but I want so badly to come. Your voice again in my ear, "I bet you want to come now, my pet, and you are ready. I know what I am doing, my pet, and I can make you feel intense pleasure."
"But if I let you come, and you feel that pleasure, you will never be the same. You will be bound to me, my pet. Not with chains, but with the knowledge that without me, you will never feel this intense pleasure again." You take your hand away, rubbing my thigh softly instead, your fingers feeling so good on my skin.
So what will you decide, my pet? Do you want to come? | null | null | Authors/tender_male/the gift.txt |
116,169 | darksoul | Wife Submits | You walk down the hallway of the abandoned office building, as instructed. At one in the morning, there is very little light. It's been a decade since the building had power. Unseen glass crackles underfoot as you feel your way along. Your hand reaches the splintered rail of a staircase on your right, and you begin climbing, just as he told you to do. At the top of the stairs, you see a spray-painted "1" on the wall in the gloom of moonlight from the dusty windows. You slowly unbutton your blouse and drop it on the floor, just as he told you to do, and then move down the hall. After a couple of doors, there is a "2" on the wall. You take off your bra, dropping it. The cool night air, and the fear of the relative unknown, gives you goosebumps and your nipples harden.
A few steps away, it gets darker, and you pause, nervous about continuing down a hall where you cannot see. As you feel your way down the wall, you hope your eyes will adjust, but they don't. It's just absolute, impenetrable blackness. A few more steps, and a quiet voice, very close behind you, says "three." You almost scream. You reach down and untie your shoes, then slip out of them. "Socks too," says the disembodied voice. You pull off the socks and drop them, unseen, on the floor, and begin feeling your way farther into the blackness. You can feel your nipples, hard with excitement, and your pussy is damp and itching. Farther and farther you go, with no light. Your hand traces its way on the wall, cracking plaster interrupted by the occasional door.
"Stop." A different voice, but still whispered. You freeze. "Put your hands behind your back, slut." You follow the order, and he deftly snaps a pair of cold handcuffs around your wrists. Your heart is pounding. Someone steps up behind you and presses against your body. You can feel his hard cock through jeans as he rubs against your hands. He reaches around and finds your tits. You gasp. He pinches your nipples and sighs as you moan. His left hand squeezes your tit harder, pressing it back against you. You shudder and moan, wishing you could touch your aching cunt. His right hand slides down over your stomach and unsnaps your jeans, then unzips them. He pulls them down over your hips and to the floor. "Step out and keep going."
Now wearing only a black thong and a pair of handcuffs, you very slowly creep down the hall, thankful that the glass was only on the first floor. Slowly the light increases from filtered moonlight. A hand grabs your shoulder, and you scream as he pushes you against the wall. A hand reaches down and rips the thong from you. Rough, calloused fingers grope your shaven cunt, spreading your lips, exploring your wetness. "Good, very wet and ready," says a third voice. His hand caresses your neck and shoulder, then he pushes you into a room through an open door. More hands grab you and force you to your knees.
You sense one of them step in front of you. He grabs you by the hair, pulling your head back. His cock presses against your lips, and you open your mouth. He starts fucking your mouth quickly. Hands explore your ass, spreading your cheeks, and feeling for your asshole. Another hand is groping at your cunt, slipping fingers in and out, rubbing your clit, and driving you crazy. You rock your hips, trying to rub up against the hand, but he doesn't let you gain control. You moan, and the cock in your mouth pauses, then sprays come into the back of your throat. You swallow frantically to avoid gagging. He pulls out his softening cock, and you barely catch your breath before they push you over on your back. Hands pull your legs roughly apart, and a cock drives into your wanting, sloppy wet pussy. He starts pounding into you.
"Fucking whore," he hisses, and then he bites your neck, sucking on the skin, leaving a huge hickey. "What a cunt," says another voice, disembodied. "Give it to her hard, the slut wants it." The guy fucking you moves to another spot on your neck and starts chewing on it. You moan, and an orgasm washes over you, driving the cock to fill you with come.
As he softens inside you, he grabs you by the hair, pulling your head back. He bites a third time, just where your chin meets your neck, sucking, licking, biting hard. You moan and quiver, almost orgasming again. His come runs out of your pussy and down your ass crack. He climbs off of you, and other hands roll you over. Someone removes the handcuffs.
"Crawl to me," comes a voice. You can see a man sitting in a ratty armchair across the room in the intermittent light. "Now, cunt!" he barks. You start crawling, but a belt snaps across your shoulders. "Faster whore!" The belt falls across your ass cheek and curls under to kiss your pussy. You cry out, and they laugh. "Beg," someone says.
"Please," you whisper, "don't hurt me."
"Wrong!" he shouts. The belt falls across your ass again, and the crack echoes down the hall. You gasp, and they laugh.
"Please. Please let me suck you," you beg, hoping this is better.
"Oh, you will," he says. "What are you? What do you want?"
You've almost reached him by now, and he drapes a leg over each arm of the chair, exposing his ass, balls, and cock. You can smell him. "I'm a cunt," you whisper to him. "I'm a whore." You feel fingers on your cunt, spreading you open, exciting you towards another orgasm. You moan, and he says, "go on," as he slowly strokes his cock. "I'm just a slutty whore, I don't deserve you. I deserve to be abused and taken. My cunt is for you to use. My whole body is for you to use. However you want, whether I like it or not." The fingers on your cunt are driving you mad, and you start licking his balls and shaft, running your tongue up and down it, tasting it. He reaches down with both hands and grabs your head, forcing you lower. You lick his ass crack and asshole, and his body responds, rocking, he moans. A cock replaces the hand on your pussy and slides easily inside. As it begins fucking you, it pushes your face against his ass rhythmically. You slide your tongue into his asshole, and he hisses "yessssss." You feel more hands, from two more, on your tits, reaching down from either side. He pulls your head up and pushes your mouth down over his cock as the cock in your pussy increases the pace. You're near orgasm again, dragged there by the pain in your tits as they pull and pinch, twist and maul. They get rougher and rougher, and you groan, then cry out, around the cock in your mouth.
Around you, the men pass around a pint of whiskey, swilling it and laughing as they inflict pain on you and feel you react. The cock fucking you drives deeper and deeper, slapping against you, and becoming more and more frantic. At the same time, the one holding your head is forcing you harder and harder down over his cock, shoving it against the back of your throat. The ones grabbing your breasts stop, but you hardly notice with the cock in your pussy and the cock in your mouth. You feel the others return and begin wrapping rope around your body, alternating above and below your breasts, and then wrapping around them. The ropes squeeze your breasts tighter and tighter, and they begin to ache and swell. You can't see it, but your nipples become harder and harder, swollen with trapped blood, turning even more sensitive as they darken. Then one of them reaches under you and snaps a clamp on one of your puffy nipples, and pain sears through your tit. You scream on the cock, and your body thrashes. Immediately the cock in your mouth sprays come down your throat, and the cock in your cunt drives in and fills you.
One of the men pulls off the clamp, and you whimper as your nipple throbs with returning feeling. Your arms and legs are shaking with exhaustion. Your body is covered with a sheen of sweat.
"Yo, bitch," says one of them, "let's see how good a cock sucker you really are. Crawl your fat ass over here." They all laugh. You crawl towards him, and he points down to four huge eye bolts embedded in the floor. "Right there, cunt." You stop at the eye bolts. Laughing, the men keep passing around the whiskey as they wrap cuffs around your wrists. They also wrap cuffs around your thighs, just above the knees. Then they pull your arms and legs apart, clipping the cuffs to the eye bolts, effectively spreading your arms and legs partway but still leaving you on all fours.
The men are all naked now. "You worthless whore," snaps one of them, "we're going to put that nice mouth to the test." Hands on your cunt, arousing you more. You feel an orgasm building again, and your tits are throbbing. You feel something hard and cold slide into your pussy. "You can't see it, baby, but there's a candle in your cunt. Here's the game. We light the candle. When you've sucked us all and made us come, we put it out. If you don't make us all come, your cuntflesh is gonna put it out." They're laughing again with a mean edge. "And if your cuntflesh puts it out, we're going to really hurt you, bitch, 'cause you're not good enough. Maybe that'll help motivate you!"
Just the thought of what they're saying almost brings you to orgasm again.You hear the click of a lighter and see the flame as they light the taper they've shoved up your cunt.
The first guy steps up, grabs your hair, and shoves his cock into your mouth. He's already hard and really excited. You press his cock against the roof of your mouth with your tongue and rock forward to get him deep in your mouth, moaning while you do it. You suck and tease, sucking hard on his cock, and he comes pretty fast.
The second guy is hard too, and he pumps your face fast, barely giving you time to swallow some of the first guy's juice. A thin stream of spit and come trails off your chin. His cock is a lot longer than the first guy's, and he's trying as hard as he can to fuck your neck. He pulls back on your head and shoves in. You gasp for air and try to make him come faster, moaning as he gets farther and farther into your throat. Fortunately, he doesn't have very good control, or he's very turned on to start with, and he comes pretty quickly too.
The third guy is the guy who fucked you. He's a lot more malicious and half-soft to start out. You try to suck him, but he keeps pulling back so only the head is in your mouth. You can taste your own cunt on him. You keep sticking out your tongue, frantically trying to get him in your mouth. Is that heat you feel on your ass cheeks? How close is the flame getting? You whimper in desperation and rock forward to grab his cock in your mouth. He laughs at you, but he's getting harder in your mouth. You work his hardening cock, licking off your juices and sucking as hard as you can. Slowly, he gets more and more worked up, but you can distinctly feel heat on your ass cheeks. As you suck desperately, he starts groaning, then grunting. You feel a drop of wax run down the shaft of the candle and come to rest against your inner cunt lips. You suck even harder, and he comes, seemingly against his desires.
The fourth guy steps up. He's the one you've already sucked. He's barely hard at all. More drops of wax are running down the candle into your cunt, and the heat from the flame is getting uncomfortable on your ass cheeks. You rock your hips back, arching your back, trying to spread your ass cheeks to keep the heat off them. It works, but it also causes more wax to run down the candle. Now it's running down your waxy pussy lips and onto your clit. The pain/pleasure makes you orgasm again. "The bitch is really getting off on this," one of them says, making everyone laugh. The last guy gives you a fair chance, sliding his cock into your mouth and slowly fucking it.
The flame is getting very close now, and it's distinctly painful. He's hard, though, so you still have a chance. You suck hard, licking the shaft. You can feel him throbbing, and taste the pre-come in your mouth. By now, your chin and neck are covered in a sheen of come, spit, and sweat. Your purple tits bounce under you, lit by the flame between your legs. Desperately, you suck, hoping he loses it soon. Now the wax covers your pussy lips and clit, and it's dripping off your cunt onto the floor. You can feel the searing heat on your ass cheeks and your cunt. You can even feel it on your asshole. You start grunting in pain while you suck. Another minute later, and you're crying out around his cock as your cunt lips and asshole burn from the flame. He starts grunting and thrusting into you. His balls slap against your chin as the cock bangs into your throat. The pain from the candle is getting intense, and your cries are almost continuous. There are tears in your eyes. You scream as the candle flame finally reaches your cunt. Your seared and swollen pussy lips slip around the end of the candle, putting it out. Your scream pushes him over the edge, and he fills your mouth with come.
They all laugh and applaud you. "Good job, slut," one of them said. "Close enough. We'll give that one to you." Fingers gently spread your cunt and pull out the remains of the candle, and then pull the hardened wax off your pussy. It's good you stay shaven anyway. Slowly, the fingers stroke you lightly. They rub you. The hot wax has made your clit ultra sensitive, and you can feel yourself getting wet again. Now your body is covered in sweat and shaking all over. You get more and more aroused, though. Two of them untie your tits and unwrap the rope, and your tits burn with the returning blood flow. You feel your stomach muscles twitching with arousal again, the orgasm building.
The fingers are replaced by a cock, sliding into your cunt, stretched, sore, and wet from both semen and your arousal. He slowly fucks you until the two of you orgasm together. He pulls out and stands up, and the second guy takes his place and starts fucking you. One by one, they come in you and step back. After all four have filled you, your body is glistening. Come and your cunt juices cover your pussy and thighs. They unclip you from the eye bolts and you collapse exhausted on the cold concrete floor. Your nipples harden from the cold. You lie there, regaining energy, and never even notice that the four of them have slipped away in the darkness.
After some time, you rise and feel your way back out into the hall. They've taken your clothes. You feel your way along, naked, until you find your shoes. At least you don't have to cut up your feet. You slip on the shoes, make your way back to the stairwell, and back out of the building. You walk, naked, through the morning fog to your car, slide inside, fetch the keys from under the mat, and head home. You've satisfied him, done what he demanded, and you know he will reward you for pleasuring him to such an extreme. | null | null | Authors/darksoul/wife_submits_01.txt |
116,248 | leporneur | The Video | Yeah, I was in a hurry. I took the pendrive from the man before me and gave him the money. It cost me $70,000. But if what he promised me to see in the files was true, it was a good deal. I, a simple man from the country, but in my early life always with a twisted mind and special desires, soon discovered that I'm a pedophile. Yet all changes. I won the big prize - the annual lottery. Now, I have real money to spend. The first thing I did was put the money in a secure international bank and move to Cambodia. I had heard about the facilities and advantages of living there, even after the more strictly laws against pedophiles. But money talks. I lived in Phnom Penh and had some fun with young sluts, but not the really young like my dreams. In this country, teen sex was legal, but I liked them younger. And this was a little bit harder to find for me, a stranger in a strange land.
Now it is changing. After a hard search, I met a local porn producer, and he loved my money. He arranged for me to meet another guy, a special pimp and videomaker, very underground. I have purchased some productions from him. Good videos. Real sex with kids. But I searched for some more. Then I ordered one of my desired scripts. He promised me he could shoot it. Today was the delivery day. I went to my house in a hurry, chills in my body. Did he really give me what I so long wanted to see?
I entered and closed my house, went to the video room, where I have a soundproof place, with the 98" HD TV and the best sound I could find. My hands trembled when I put the pendrive in the USB and made it run. Yeah... let's go. The video opened with a full image of a naked room. Then suddenly, two Asian girls were drawn to the front of the camera. They looked really young, 6 or 7 years old, and were with collars and cuffs. And naked. They looked frightened. Beautiful scene! Three men entered, naked but masked. The action will begin. I know what's coming, and I shiver in anticipation. The men took the girls carelessly and began to abuse. Hands going to the intimates, fingering the girls, pinching and invading. The next action is rape... hard and rough rape. The men forced the girls to suck, deepthroating scene, one by one, fucked the cunts and asses with no lubrication. Deep anal, deep cuntfuck, deep throat. The girls cried and screamed while the abuse. But mercilessly the men continued. Double penetration scene with both girls. This was amazingly horny. Tears fell from the girls' faces. Yeah, that's what I paid for to see. Then, the first part ended.
Now, the second part I ordered will begin. The men bound the girls to a stool, took canes and whipped the bounded girls. Hard whip, like I ordered. I saw marks appear on the bodies. The marks turned red and became wounds. All the girls' bodies were now covered with welts. The screams are now intense. The pierced cries revealed the intense pain suffered by the girls. I was almost cumming in my pants, looking at the video. Yeah, I spent my money well. Now the men put needles in the girls' nipples and clits, forcing them to scream even louder until they almost fainted...But it's not the end yet. After the whip and needle session, the men took the girls and performed the last scene: an intense anal rape. One by one, the men came in the girls' asses, while the girls struggled and screamed. The cameramen gave a good view of the destroyed bodies and ended shooting the girls' asses, open and gaping. End of the movie.
Yeah. Finally, I found what I was looking for. I can see that the producer and I will have a long and profitable relationship. I have some new ideas to shoot on video, new abuse scenes, harder than hell, maybe younger actresses... and have the money to turn it into reality. Maybe I can act too, why not? | null | null | Authors/leporneur/The Video.txt |
116,332 | Bulgroz the Third | The Girl from the Gym | You don't crap where you eat, goes the saying. Wise words, if somewhat crude. Yet that's just what I'm about to do, and pretty much with a shrug and a smile.
I'm between sets at an abs machine in the gym of J*** University. That's my local gym. Not that I'm a student at J*** or staff or in any way have anything to do with the school. It's just a supremely convenient gym to patronize: just three blocks down the road from my office, reasonable rates for what they call "community users," and a wonderful supply of prime young coed bodies on display -- eighteen to twenty-five year old fit, toned, and scantily-dressed girls. Talk about motivation.
Looking around, I see young nubile women, buying into this society's view that to be pretty means to be slim and firm all over. Not that I really mind, of course. Male privilege, I think it's called. Sometimes that bothers me, but not today. I drink in the sights, and can't help but think that some of these girls are purposely on display. See and be seen, every gym's motto. Except maybe for that handful of regulars that show up day in day out, good weather or bad, holiday or not, and get on with their routine without talking to anyone -- hell, without noticing anyone -- there but for the grace of getting their arms bulging or their heart pumping.
I remember reading last year in one of the university papers this student's rant about my gym. In acerbic prose, she complained about all of these girls, and I quote, "pimping themselves up in the locker room, makeup and everything." She was incensed after catching a girl adjust her thong to ensure it was visible over her track pants in a blatant attempt to lure unsuspecting and innocent boys, a praying mantis on the prowl for a mate and a snack. Innocent, my ass! Most gyms are, for better or for worse, meat markets. See and be seen. At least, one can still push a workout through all this nature channel mating behavior.
My name is Kurt Bauer, and I hit the gym four times a week, early in the morning. I've always found it to give a superb start to the day, working out body kinks before getting to the business of investing money and advising others on how to invest money. The world of international finance may sound attractive, even glamorous, but its day-to-day humdrum is just as boring as any other job. Unlike others, I'm not obsessive about finance, so while I am not a millionaire, I make up for it with some amount of free time.
I have been out of town for much of the last few months, and decided that this week I should stay put and try to catch up on everything that needed catching up on. And reclaim a semblance of workout schedule in a gym I knew and enjoyed and not some hotel gym equipped with a BowFlex and a treadmill.
And thus it came to pass that, a couple of days ago, I spotted this girl for the first time -- medium height, light blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail, sporting the tight and toned body of a distance runner. She was straddling one of the StairMaster machines that line the way to the weights room, and like kids to an ice cream truck, my eyes were drawn to her legs, exposed to great advantage by a pair of running shorts that bared much of her thighs, straining with her efforts. I wasn't the only one that had noticed either, if the many young men and not few women who sneaked a glance up the toned body as they passed by were any indication.
Admiring her curves, I idly wondered what her long legs might feel like wrapped around my head as I ate her out, or how the firm ass that anyone could discern through her shorts would feel like in my hands as she rode me to climax like a deviant cowgirl on a mad bull. I flushed that idea out of my head presto; it's never a good idea to entertain such distractions while lifting a couple hundred pounds over one's chest.
And it was not just the risk of debilitating injury that slowed me down. As a general rule, I try not to pick up women near where I live or work. With my idiosyncratic ability, it tends to complicate matters more than anything else. You see, I am what I like to call a mind chameleon. I can get some people to see me as some other people for a short period of time. In fact, let's not mince words here -- through some cosmic snafu, I can get girls to see me as whomever gets their motor running at the moment, if you see what I mean. So yes, I'm a freak, but a sexually satisfied freak.
Unfortunately, some kind of negative feedback seems to occur when a girl sees me after we have shared a, shall we say, experience with me. The details vary. Sometimes she will suddenly realize what happened -- that some sort of impersonation took place -- sometimes she will harbor an instant dislike to me without knowing why, and sometimes she will instead take a fancy to me, again without knowing why. Regardless, it is a problem, and I therefore tend to indulge only when I'm traveling. Once in a while, though, a girl will test my resolve. Today is such a day.
I'm between sets at the abs machine, and as I catch my breath, my eyes wander over to the row of elliptical machines and StairMasters. There among the breast-bouncing cuties happily climbing stairs that lead nowhere is my blonde angel with the tight runner's body. Her breasts are not bouncy; they are either nonexistent or she's wearing one of those sport bras that rival corsets of old. Considering that she does not seem to have a single ounce of unnecessary fat on her body, my money's on the former.
I must have been staring because I suddenly realize that she is looking right at me. I give her my best "sorry-for-staring-but-wow" smile, and she returns a small smile of her own before turning her attention back to her machine. She may have a magazine splayed out in front of her, but I doubt it; she seems too serious for that.
I finish my workout in the next thirty minutes, cycling through arms and back exercises. I keep sneaking glances at blondie as I move around the gym. She is near perfect, as if drawn by a seriously horny artist, and I even love the way her ponytail bobs up and down as she powers through the StairMaster's routine.
I finish my workout as I usually do, with a three-mile run on the interior track of the gym. Few people are running, and the track, an engineering tour de force suspended over the squash courts below, is quiet. Through glass windows, the row of elliptical machines and StairMasters is visible, and on every go-round the track, I glimpse blondie's little rear energetically pumping up and down. I wonder if she's wearing a thong.
I sigh, not necessarily easy when out of breath, and make a concerted effort to quit my gawking. Yes, she is attractive. Yes, I wouldn't mind discovering what those toned legs of hers would feel like wrapped around my waist. Yes, I wonder how deep she could swallow me. The usual questions. But I have rules for a reason, and I'll be damned if I break them today. I put my head down, jack up the volume on my iPod, and focus on lap ten of twenty-five.
Damnation lies on an exercise mat in a corner of the track by lap thirteen. Elevated platforms fill the rounded corners of the track where people often stretch or do floor exercises, perhaps because those spots afford them more privacy than the large floor mats in the central part of the gym. Whatever the reason, my blonde angel, who evidently finished her routine, is currently stretched out on her back on a mat by the corner in which I am heading, and I have a long stretch with nothing to do but look right at her and take in the awesomeness that is her body.
I then get treated to a dozen laps of my own personal peep show, seeing as I am the only one on the track by that point. And what a show it is. Ever noticed how floor exercises, when done right, bear an astonishing resemblance to stripper routines?
I am reminded of that observation as I watch blondie stretch a taut body before me every time I take the last straight line of the track. She starts with simple stretches, lying on her back, legs extended, arms reaching up above her head.
By my next lap, she has shifted to her side, and she is lifting a leg up, extended straight, in a sort of scissor move. I get to take in the perfect line of her leg, and note how her skin is nearly golden.
Same move on my next lap, with the other leg this time, and facing away from me. My eyes are rather unwittingly glued to her shorts, which get pulled over her ass as her leg lifts, calling attention to its indubitable tightness. I can't believe I'm the only one around seeing this.
On my next lap, she has moved on to glute exercises, on her back with legs folded at right angle, knees up, feet flat on the ground, as she slowly lifts her hips, rotating her pelvis, keeping her knees together and her upper back on the mat. Given where my mind has been for the past half-hour, the movement is almost obscene. She looks as if she was reaching up to a lover, offering herself to his thrusts, urging him to take her faster, deeper, stronger.I try and fail not to look at where her shorts are stretched between her legs, imagining how her pussy lips look, how wet she gets when turned on.
The next lap brings her coup de grace. She is on her hands and knees, back straight, head down, and gives me plenty of time to admire her ass and how it leads into her upper thighs -- her shorts almost let her cheeks peek out. Too bad. She then lifts a leg away from her body, keeping it folded at a right angle, like a puppy relieving herself against a wall.
By the time I make it around the track again, my blonde angel is up and picking up the mat she had brought with her. I take in her body as a whole yet again, and idly wonder whether she can feel my eyes roam up and down her legs. I suppose she does; I recall reading somewhere that girls are often perfectly aware of all those old creepy perverts hanging around gyms. At least I am not old.
When my eyes finally make their way up to her face, I realize she is looking at me. Caught again. I almost miss a step. She does not seem particularly bothered by my obvious attention; she gives me a little, almost shy smile and steps off the corner platform, mat tucked under one arm, a towel in the other.
I only have a few seconds to make up my mind and throw all my sensible rules out the window. If not for that last look, I might have let her go, but that look held too much promise. Instead of rounding the track when I reach the platform she has just left, I step over it and keep on running, slowing down as I approach her. She's heard me, and turns around, smiling and frowning at the same time.
"Hi," I say, out of breath, and trying very hard not to sound too much like a fool. Touchy, since I have no real clue what to say next.
"Hi?" she says. Nice voice. Lower than I would have guessed.
"My name's Kurt. Sorry to catch you like this, but I've been seeing you around for a bit now, and figured I'd introduce myself before you start thinking I'm nuts or something."
She's still smiling, a good sign. "Hi Kurt, I'm Sam... Samantha. Yeah, I've seen you around too. Your routine seems... intense."
"Oh, you know, gotta keep the old body up and running. And your routine is nothing to sneer at. You must have some of the most toned legs in this gym."
She blushes at that. Nice. Especially since my drivel, which would be ridiculed by the Neil Strausses of the world, is probably going to lead me nowhere very fast. Fuck, I must really like this girl. I'm usually not so shitty at this.
"Thanks, so... you don't look like a student here. You a prof, or --"
"No, no, I'm actually in finance. Got an office down the road. This gym's just the most convenient for me, plus it's pretty nice. What about you, student?"
She nods. "Senior in law school. Not as fancy as finance, I know."
"You kiddin' me? Finance is some of the most boring stuff around." And I'm not even exaggerating, sadly. "But it pays the bills, and I get to travel. And it does have its good moments. What kind of lawyer are you setting out to be?"
"I don't know about being a lawyer yet. I'm thinking about going into copyright law, the whole digital rights debate. It's been on my mind ever since the whole thing with the student sued by the music industry last fall."
Yes, a year ago, a student around here was sued by the RIAA for file sharing. That caused quite a stir, and the debates around campus were so vociferous that even I had heard about them. That was the opening I was waiting for.
"Digital rights - you know, I have clients that are looking to invest in digital media, but they are skittish for... well, for several reasons. And I admit that I don't know much about what's going on in that area. Perhaps I could pick your brain about it one of these days? Call it a working lunch."
"I don't know," she hesitates.
"Very low key, nothing fancy, just a quiet lunch and many questions. We can even talk about a consultancy fee. How about lunch tomorrow, at the Panera around the corner?" Near the university, and as unassuming a place to have lunch that I could think of.
She makes a decision, on the spot, and I can tell that it's not good for me. "Look, you're nice, and who knows, this digital rights thing of yours might even be true, but I have a boyfriend, and he might take me going to lunch with an admittedly cute finance guy the wrong way. So I'm going to pass on the invite, and I hope you won't be too mad."
Damn. Well, it was a stretch anyways. "Okay, I understand. No foul. Look, if you do decide to look into investments for digital media, please do get in touch. Bauer Consulting, just google it."
She nods and smiles, and my heart skips a beat. Fuck, she's beautiful.
"Well, I'll see you around." She heads down the row of StairMasters towards the stairs to the locker rooms. In the next four seconds, an amazing amount of processing goes on between my ears. My eyes shift down to Sam's ass, the way her shorts hug it tight, the way her legs just emerge from those shorts, tanned, strong, long legs with a skin promising silky softness. A voice in the back of my head points out that she has a boyfriend -- something I can use -- and another more insistent voice points out that she has the most delightful body I have seen in a long while, and she cannot be more than twenty years old, and do I remember how fantastic twenty-year old girls can be?
"Hey, Sam!"
She stops to look at me. I catch her eye, holding her gaze without faltering until I feel a familiar tension build up behind my eyes that eventually spreads to my whole body. I tremble slightly, and then something just snaps and a warm wave floods through me. Like an orgasm, I think, not for the first time.
Sam blinks a few times, then looks at me as though she is seeing me for the first time. Her face splits into a smile, and almost run towards me, arms extended.
"Luke, what are you doing here? I thought you hated the gym."
Go with the flow, Kurt, you know the drill by now. She thinks you're Luke, presumably her boyfriend. "Well, figured I'd give it another shot, considering how much you like it."
"That's so sweet!"
"Plus I get to look at you in this outfit. You're breathtaking, babe."
Sam blushes. "Thanks. It's too bad I'm just finished my routine. I can stick around while you finish, then we can hang out. I've got nothing till one. We should be able to snatch a table at the student center."
Time to start taking chances, old boy. I step closer to Sam, and ever so slowly trail my fingers up her arm. She shivers at the touch, but does not pull away.
"Hanging out at the student center is not quite what I had in mind." I lean in closer, whispering in her ear. "Unless they've got beds in there that I don't know about."
Sam blushes further and tries to say something, but all that comes out is an incoherent stammer. I take advantage of her confusion to give her a quick kiss by the ear, lingering a second, feeling the soft skin, still salty from her workout.
I can feel her shiver, although we are hardly touching. "Luke, not here... People can see." Ah, so either Luke is a secret fling, or my blonde angel is uncomfortable with PDA. I suspect the latter, but the approach is the same in both cases. I spy a column, out of the way to our right.
"Come here."
I reach to the column, pulling Sam by the hand. She follows after a surreptitious look around. No one is paying attention to us, aside from the odd male casting a lingering look in Sam's direction, probably not even registering me.
I circle around the column into a small recess by the wall, where we are effectively cut off from view.
Sam's back is against the wall, and she looks at me with big blue eyes waiting for my next move, suddenly and I think uncharacteristically passive, although the slight quivering of her lips tells me all I really need to know. My ability at work, bless it.
Sam closes her eyes as I lean over to kiss her; her lips are soft, warm, hungry. It does not take long for her tongue to seek mine, for her hand to reach behind my neck and pull me closer, for her body as a whole to press against mine, skin to skin, thigh to thigh, crotch to crotch. Any passiveness on her part is now gone, as I feel her hands roam my back, go down to grab my ass, come back up my chest. She moans in my mouth.
I can't believe the contrast between her skin, warm, smooth, soft to the touch, and her body, tight, hard, strong. My own hands waste no time to find her ass, a reflection of her own gestures. I feel her weight shift through the thin gym shorts, and my right hand sneaks down to caress the back of her thigh. She obliges by lifting her leg off the floor.
As we get drawn deeper into the kiss, hidden away in our corner, Sam gets hotter and hotter; her hands are more active, the leg I am holding up is rubbing against my side, she is pushing against me, moving her hips, thrusting her groin with the music, seeking contact, moaning.
She pulls out of the kiss, abruptly, then traps my head in her hands, looking at me. She's shaking.
"I want you."
Perfect, I think. I just smile, and Sam stops me before I can say anything.
"I know I said I wasn't ready yet, that I still wanted to wait, that I was still afraid, but no more. God, I'm so horny right now, I could jump you right here and now."
Wait, what? Not ready, waiting? Good Lord, are you trying to tell me that I've run into the only virgin left on this campus? That makes me pause. Virgins are no favorite of mine; they are a lot of work. Those religions promising to send you off to Valhalla and its buffet of virgins? Not for this boy.
Sam must have felt me pull back. "I know this comes as a surprise, but I kindda hoped you'd be happy." She's looking at me with large hopeful eyes. Their blue is a pale one, and contrasts with her golden skin. I have no idea how such a combination of tones could come to be, but there it is, shining off a beautiful girl half-standing half-leaning against me, warm, loving, and ready to fuck.She does not feel like a virgin. I can't explain it, just some sense I pick up over the years. I have been with many in the past, when I was honing my skill, and they all share certain traits, certain ways of acting and reacting to things sexual, a mix of desire and apprehension, tinged with trepidation or eerie calm, and Sam has none of these. That alone piques my curiosity. Well, that, and Sam's hand that has just disappeared between our intertwined bodies and started to massage my cock through my shorts. Sam has a naughty smile on her face, a kitten happy to have found a toy to play with.
Reluctantly, I grab her hand to keep her from causing a mess I might have a hard time explaining. This is neither the place nor the time.
"Sam, Sam, please, okay, okay, you win!" Her look is all surprised innocence.
"Listen, not here, not now. Don't you want our first time to be special?"
Her pout is adorable, but she nods.
"Then, tonight, how about I stop at your place, and we can do this right?"
She frowns while she thinks, and soon breaks into a smile. "Ronnie is off to a play tonight, we should have the apartment to ourselves."
I kiss her neck, eliciting a moan.
"Wonderful. Eight o'clock, then? I'll call you before I show up, to make sure everything is okay. My cell phone's shot though. Can you remind me of your phone number?"
Touchy. As her boyfriend, I should know how to contact her. The cell phone trick has always been useful to get around that problem. Who under thirty remembers phone numbers anymore? Thankfully, when I use my ability, girls tend to not be as suspicious as they might otherwise be, a useful side-effect.
Sam obligingly gives me her phone number. A few more kisses, caresses, and moans before we finally break apart and get on with our day.
She has just started to resume her walk to the locker room when I call her name once more and stop her. I get closer, and whisper in her ear. "Tonight, would you do me a favor? Dress sexy? For me?"
A naughty smile is her only answer.
I watch her go, eyes fixated on her ass, until she disappears through the door of the women's locker room.
The rest of my day goes on as usual: meetings, lunch with a client, conference calls. I try to schedule my affairs so that I only need to be in the office a few days a week. The rest, I can do comfortably from home.
I can't help but have part of my mind returning to Sam, looking forward to our date later this evening. I wonder how she's spending the day. I wonder if she's spent some time with her Luke (which I naturally picture in my head as a Mark Hamill look-alike, a somewhat disturbing visual) and whether she's mentioned tonight's date. If so, then poor Luke must be a very confused boy right now. Perhaps I should have asked her not to say anything, to treat it as a game.
The nagging worry that Skywalker might show up at our little rendezvous tonight increases over the course of the afternoon. I wish there was a way I could ensure that he won't show up, but I don't know anything but his first name. Damn. And calling Sam about it would make matters worse.
At seven, after a spot of dinner, I call Sam. This is the decisive juncture. My ability is organic, fluctuating, affecting different people in different and unpredictable ways. I've gotten used to it since the ability first manifested itself when I was a teenager, and I have learned what pretty consistently works. But here I am kicking things into less predictable territory.
I'm nervous. The effect of my ability reliably lasts a couple of hours, and the likelihood of it fading increases with every passing hour after that. The longest I have ever seen it last is twelve hours. Of course, I can always prolong the effect by using my ability again, but that option is not available to me right now, as I haven't seen Sam since the gym this morning, almost ten hours ago, and I have no idea where she lives. A rookie mistake. I can only hope that when she picks up the phone, she is still under my influence.
Sam picks up after the third ring. I allow myself a sigh of relief when she recognizes my voice as Luke's, and points out in answer to a comment about having missed her all day that we could see each other now. I conclude she must not have seen her boyfriend today. One less problem to deal with. She gives me her address when I ask and tells me in rather colorful terms how much she is looking forward to holding me in an hour and "take her like the little girlfriend in heat she is." I like that plan.
Forty-five minutes later, freshly showered and casually dressed, I knock on the door of her apartment. The building is nice, clean, and unexpectedly quiet for being on the outskirts of the student ghetto. We're probably in grad students' land. Good, last thing I want right now is the pounding of the bass from some undergrad frat party. Or the police. The police still make me nervous, even though I haven't had to deal with them in years.
Sam's voice comes out muted from inside the apartment, telling me to come in, the door is unlocked. The apartment is dark, with a few flickers of candlelight about, casting a warm eerie glow. Sam's voice again, this time from down the hall: "Make yourself comfortable, baby, I'll be right there."
I take off my jacket, sit on the couch, and assess the surroundings. Typical student digs, perhaps with a touch more style than usual. Someone with taste and an eye for decoration has set this room up. I can't judge the colors in the candlelight, but I bet they match. The living room is spacious, and I like the thick carpet underfoot. Kitchen in one direction, and in the other a hallway that I presume leads down to the bedrooms.
There's a bottle of wine and two glasses on the coffee table. I pour the wine, smell it. Merlot, the default choice for many people. Not my favorite, but I appreciate the effort. I take a sip, focusing on the sting of the red wine on my tongue, trying hard to avoid thinking about what's coming. Part of the fun, I realized a long time ago, lies in not knowing what was going to happen. Anticipation can be intoxicating.
"Hi, baby."
Sam's voice. I was lost in thought, and didn't hear her come in. She's standing at the hallway entrance to the living room. She's not moving, and that's just as well because it gives me sufficient time to drink her in, like the tallest glass of water after a scorching walk in the desert.
She is not wearing much, and what she is wearing plays with the light from the candles in magical ways. A short negligee is my best guess, something satiny, held up by two thin straps over her shoulders, and reaching down to the top of her thighs. She is not wearing anything else I can see. Her legs are exposed in all their glory, long and smooth and delectable. It's funny, she probably showed as much skin this morning at the gym, but the way the negligee is molded on her body is positively obscene. I can easily make out the outline of her breasts, and the mind fills in the blank of her waist, following her hips down to her thighs and the treasure that lies between them.
She looks at me look at her. "I hope you like. I did not have much time today to find something suitable."
"You look wonderful."
"Thank you. Is that glass for me?" She pulls off the nonchalance much better than I right now.
I hand her the wine-filled glass as she strolls across the room. "Her majesty's glass." My eyes are glued to her legs as she gets closer, walking silently over the carpeted floor. The quietness and fluidity of her stride is nearly feline.
Sam reaches for the glass. "Thank you, kind sir." She sips, maintaining eye contact. My eyes have made it back to her face.
She is smiling. She puts her glass down, heads to the shelves by the wall, and after fiddling with the sound system some soft nondescript mood music comes out of hidden speakers. I recognize the melody, it's been playing on the radio lately, but for the life of me cannot put a name to the singer. Not that that's anything new. I stopped paying attention to commercial music after Freddie Mercury died. But hey, tonight, if Sam's happy, I'm happy.
And she seems happy. The song has a slow but snappy beat, and Sam's getting into it. She still has her back to me, leaning against the shelves. I drink my wine, just looking at her. The view is beautiful. The negligee is cut low in the back, and I can see her backside move through the thin material. Sam's swaying her hips in time with the music, matching the rhythm. It is altogether hypnotic.
Sam pushes herself off the shelves, and starts dancing, a slow, sensual swinging to the music, arms raised, eyes closed. She moves like a dancer, and I idly wonder whether she takes classes. I'll have to ask her later. Sam's hands are roaming as she dances, traveling down her perfect runner's body, following the contour of her hips, skimming over her thighs. Playfully, she lifts one side of her negligee, revealing her upper leg straight up to her hip, and I don't see any indication that she is wearing anything under the silk.
She gestures me to come up and join her. I smile, shake my head, and hold my ground. I hate dancing. Unfazed, she bumps and grinds her way to me across the living room, before holding out her hand to me, a wicked smile on her lips. I stare at the offered hand for a beat or two before sighing and joining her. She puts her arms around my neck, hands loosely together behind me, and sways slowly, a foot away from me, eyes closed.
She smells fresh and clean and delicious. My hands are on her hips. The negligee definitely is silk, and thin silk at that. It intensifies the feel of her skin. I will my hands to move up from her hips to below her shoulders and then up her arms, which she obligingly lifts. I get closer as my hands reach hers high above her head, thrown back with eyes open and staring at me and lips parted. I lean over and kiss her lips.She melts into me, as she did in the gym earlier, except now it's only us in the darkened, candlelit apartment, and the night is still young.
The kiss is scorching. Sam's body rubs against mine, and I feel all its details - her breasts against my chest, her stomach against mine, her groin pushing into my erection, her leg trapped between my legs. If this is how she feels when I'm still dressed, I worry about my reaction when I'll be naked against her.
Sam interrupts those idle reflections by pushing me back down on the couch before straddling me and resuming our kiss. Her hands are on my face, and her hips are dancing wildly on my lap. She's losing control, I can tell. She's getting off, rubbing herself against me, against my cock through my jeans. I feel warmth and wetness seeping through, and am tempted to let go and lose control as well.
My hands are on her thighs, feeling the intricate muscle work under skin as silky as her negligee. With careful movements, I tug on her shoulder straps, and the garment, with a little help, drops down to reveal two perfect breasts that seem to rise up to meet me. She must have been wearing the most excruciating of sports bras this morning, because her breasts are not at all what I was led to believe.
I dive in and grab a nipple between my lips, hands reaching up to squeeze her other breast. Sam's breath catches, then she moans, pushing her chest out to give me greater access. I kiss and nibble and suck the offered globe like a starved man. She tastes like wild berries. I lean Sam back, straining her legs, and she has to hold on to me not to slide down to the floor.
We make out in that fashion on the couch for the better part of the following fifteen minutes. By that point, her negligee is but a piece of fabric bunched around her waist. Sam has managed to take off my shirt, and took a few minutes away from kissing and caressing my chest to unzip my pants and massage my straining cock.
"I want you, bad. Now," she says, when we pause after a particularly heated kiss. She's back on my lap, rubbing her crotch against mine. I can feel her pussy leaking juice even through the material of my briefs. She takes a deep breath, seems to come to a decision, then leans over to whisper in my ear. "I want to feel your cock inside, stretching me out."
She's trying on the words out loud. Nice. I should be encouraging. I whisper back to her, "Funny, my cock also wants to be inside, stretching your little pussy out, whereas I want to make you scream." I pull back, look her in the eyes, smile. "I think we can come to some sort of arrangement here." She smiles back, an endearing mix of embarrassment and arousal etched on her face. I kiss her again.
"Where do you --" I start, but she doesn't let me finish. She stands up and shimmies out of her negligee. It was not hiding anything, of course, bunched up as it was around her waist, but somehow seeing Sam completely naked without a stitch of clothing breaking her lines gets to me. She is beautiful. I mentioned the tight runner's legs, long and smooth, right? And the flat stomach, and the gently curved hips? And the breasts, sitting perfectly proportioned high on her chest? Her shoulders, the shoulders of a model on which a designer would fantasize about hanging his latest fashion? She is simply breathtaking.
Sam kneels in front of me, reaches for my pants and briefs and pulls them off. My cock springs up to say hello. She strokes it softly. I close my eyes, taking in the sensations; they never get old. I probably let out a moan too, I'm not wholly sure.
She stops, and before I can jerk myself out of my reverie, I feel first her hot breath on my cock, then her lips gently wrapping themselves around the head. She sucks me in, slowly, then out again. I open my eyes. Like a blonde curtain, her hair hides her face from me. She bobs her head up and down on my cock, slower than I usually like, but the rhythm feels right tonight, and her mouth is fantastic. I tell her so, can feel her smile.
Without warning, she lets me go and stands back up. "Hey, no! Please, don't stop!" I complain. She laughs, as she straddles my lap once more, grabbing my cock and aiming it at the wet slit between her legs. "Well, if you're a good boy, I'll get back to it later. But now, I have other things on my mind. I want that big cock in me." The head of my cock touches her pussy lips, and it takes a fair amount of self-control not to come right then and there. After the briefest pause, Sam sinks onto my rod, and down she goes, swallowing me almost to the hilt, in one long swoop. She leans on me, and I can feel more than hear her moan against my shoulder.
"Fuck, this feels good, so full." I wholeheartedly agree. Her pussy is like a tight warm glove around my cock, squeezing it with every spasm that runs through Sam. Her pussy is tighter than most I have recently sampled, not surprising if she's a virgin. And I have to say that things went off much better than I had feared; deflowering is much more awkward in real life than on those fantasy stories one finds on the internet. There's pain, parts that don't fit right, sometimes a reinforced hymen. None of that tonight.
Sam is on my lap, having managed to take in my full length, and she is contentedly sighing as she moves her hips to and fro. She seems to enjoy the motion, if her regular "Mmmm... so good... feels so good..." are anything to go by. I take advantage of the soothing rhythm to run my hands over her body and nibble on her breasts, deliciously available at mouth level.
Sam straightens up, and almost completely pulls me out, remaining with only the tip of my cock nestled between her folds. She looks at me with a wicked smile. "I wanna fuck you." Sure, knock yourself out. "I wanna fuck you hard." From virgin to liking it rough in ten minutes. I didn't know I was this good.
The thought perishes as she slams down on my cock. On the spot, I'm not sure whether to feel pain or pleasure. For Sam, it's definitely pleasure. Her mouth hangs open, but no sound comes out, only an abrupt exhaling as if she's not expecting what she's feeling. After a few seconds, she goes through it again: she pulls herself off me, leaving only the tip of my cock inside her, and then slams herself down. She settles into a grueling rhythm, repeatedly slamming herself down on my cock, and I fear that her stamina is no match for mine.
She mutters under her breath, and it gets louder as she gets closer to orgasm. I strain to hear, happy for the distraction -- her pumping up and down is about to make me burst, and this is too much fun to waste. Damn, I think, suddenly, protection! I don't see parenting in my near future activities.
"Fuck... fuck... fuck..." is her litany, keeping tempo with her humping. "Fuck... big cock... want big cock... down in my dirty little pussy... so full... fill me... take me... ravage me... fuck... deeper... fuck..." All sotto voce, almost mumbled. A closet dirty talker, then. I need her to come before I let go. Stupid machismo. If she is indeed into dirty talk, then...
I lean towards her and whisper loud enough so she can hear despite the squeaky couch. "Come for me, my little sex angel. I want to feel you come all around my cock. Squeeze that tight cunt of yours right around my stiff cock."
She shivers upon hearing my words, her breath shortens, her motion on my lap become jerkier, like an engine misfiring. She slams herself down on top of me a few more times, hard. And then she comes.
She's a screamer, but she tries to contain it as best as she can, jamming her face in the crook of my neck, and biting down as tremors overwhelm her body. I hold on for dear life, trying to convince myself that the blinding pain in my neck is a tribute to a job well done.
Sam collapses against me, drained, a sheen of sweat on her skin, mumbling incoherently into my shoulder. Her breathing returns to normal, slowly. She feels good against me.
"Come on," I say, gently rubbing her back. "Let's go somewhere more comfortable."
Time to show off some of those gym moves. I just hope I don't throw out something in my back. It's a good thing Sam's not much bigger than she is.
I push off the couch, standing up, lifting Sam, still hooked around my neck and with my dick embedded deep inside her. Lift with the legs, Kurt, not the back. Sam lets out a moan and mutters something indiscernible. I disengage, pulling her off my dick, and then she's lying in my arms, a much easier position for me to carry her. She cuddles up against me like a child. I head for the hallway.
"Sam, bedroom?"
Without looking, she gestures to the far door. The hallway is dark, but I can still see enough from the candlelight in the living room. I navigate the door frame without ramming Sam's head into it. I put her down on the bed, and she seems to come alive somewhat, because she pulls me in for a scorching kiss. Her body seeks mine, reaching up, and my cock responds. But there are things I need to do.
"I'll be right back," I whisper, when I get a chance to say a word.
"Hurry," she says, eyes closed, still not wholly recovered.
I do. Step one, grabbing the pack of condoms from my pants in the living room. Step two, kill the candles. Visions of the apartment engulfed in flames dance in front of my eyes. I hurry back to the bedroom.
Sam's come out of it. She has turned on a soft nightlight, and a bluish glow suffuses the room. She is watching me, head raised up on pillows, legs spread, a hand leisurely stroking a pussy still swollen from our foray on the couch.
"You look very nice," I say, openly ogling. Sam blushes, but does not close her legs or take her hand away.
I join her on the bed and flutter a light kiss on the inside of her right thigh. She shivers, and moves her legs further apart. Lying fully down, resting on my elbows, I kiss up her thigh, inducing more shivers and a few moans as a reward.Her hand gets busier over her pussy, fingers having moved to caressing her clit directly. I can smell her arousal from where I am.
I have said it before, I will say it again, her skin is unbelievably soft. I assess this with my lips now instead of my fingers, which intensifies the feeling. When I reach the fold where her thigh runs into the silk surrounding her pussy, I jump to her left thigh and mirror my previous kiss trail. Sam moans in frustration at feeling me get away from where she wants to be kissed the most.
Before long, though, I am back at the hearth between her thighs, breathing in her scent, strong but sweet. She is using two fingers to rub one of her pussy lips towards the top of her slit. I blow gently, and when she feels it she pushes her hips up, no doubt to seek some sort of contact. I tease her by blowing on her pussy some more, then indulge in something I've been meaning to do ever since seeing her this morning: lifting myself up, I deposit a slow heavy kiss on her stomach, flat and taut and strong. I feel the toned muscles under her skin, and follow the hollows down her sides, basking in the taste of her skin, lightly salted after the sweat of our earlier exertions.
I return to her slit only to notice that her hand is nearly frantic now. If I let her be, she's capable of coming again without me. I find that completely unacceptable. Time to test out my earlier theory.
"Sam," I say, up on my elbows, face above her self-abusing hand, "stop."
It takes a few seconds, but Sam eventually stops. Her eyes are open and looking right at me. I have her attention.
"Do me a favor, will you? Spread your pussy lips and hold them out. I want a taste."
Small hesitation -- I can detect a faint blush in the glow of the nightlight. So she clearly has no qualms lying naked before me with her legs spread, wanton, but words do have an effect on her.
"I want you to offer yourself to me."
A moan this time, and she moves her hands down to her crotch, and with two delicate fingers from each hand, she pulls apart her lips, revealing a wet, red, aroused slit ready to be entertained.
I proceed to thoroughly eat her out, starting with a few tentative caresses of my tongue alongside a fleshy lip, before moving on to her engorged clit. By the time ten minutes have elapsed, I am alternating between driving my tongue deep inside her as far as it will go, and sucking on her little love nub. She has come twice already, and is well on her way to a third orgasm.
It's time I get to play as well. I kneel up on the bed to Sam's cry of protest and reach for the pack of condoms. I fumble with one before managing to roll it onto my cock in one nice and smooth motion. If only it had been so easy fifteen years ago.
After her initial disappointment, Sam has picked up on what I was up to. Smart girl. She's back to caressing herself, staring straight at my cock, transfixed. I like seeing that expression on her face. I am not especially long, cock-wise, but I am wide. Pleasurably girthy, if you will.
I lie down on top of Sam, who reaches down between us and with a small warm hand grips a cock delighted by the attention. Sam shifts her hips forward, and pitches up for me to impale her.
Except she never makes it. I move out of reach, still on top of her. Her eyes shoot open, brows furrowed, a questioning groan on her lips. I smirk, feeling naughty.
"No," I say, "not yet. Before I do anything, you have to tell me what you want."
Sam shoots me a look of incomprehension, and then gasps, avoiding my eyes. I love making her blush.
"Go on," I continue, "If you want it inside, you'll have to tell me."
She hesitates, and very softly, whispers, "I want you inside me."
"Come on, Sam, you can do better than that. Louder"
"I want your... dick inside."
I lean over her, bring my mouth to her ear. "You want my dick, my cock deep inside you, don't you? You want me to spread you out, open you up. You want me to take you, ravish you, fuck you until you can't breathe anymore?"
Sam moans. I can feel her body sway under mine. "Yesss... Inside... Wanna feel you, wanna feel you inside." I kiss the side of neck, run my tongue up to her earlobe. "Wanna feel your cock inside my little hungry pussy." Her voice started low, but gains in intensity.
"Then what?" I ask. She has it in her, I know, she proved it earlier. Except she wasn't quite herself then. Now I want more. I want Samantha to speak, not lust.
Sam takes a deep breath. "Then I want you to... plunge your cock deep inside me and fill me up."
"And you want me to fuck you?"
She turns her head back towards me, the red of the blush purplish in the blur glow. Her eyes are sparkling.
"Then yes, I want you to fuck me. Is that what you want to hear, you bastard?" The smile flirting at the edges of her mouth belies the harshness of her words. "I want you to fuck me," she stabs her hips up to punctuate her statement, to get me to react, "I want you to ram your cock in me and split me open. Is that want you want to hear?"
"Yes," I say. "That's exactly what I want to hear." And then I kiss her hard on the lips, and as she responds to my kiss, as her tongue starts dueling with mine, I thrust into her, and she opens up like the most joyous of flowers on a warm spring day.
I inch my way into her, slowly, inexorably, until I can go no further, until I am embedded inside her as far as I can go. And then I stop. I keep on kissing her, but remain motionless on top of her, my groin flush against hers.
After a few seconds, Sam moans through the kiss, and the moan becomes more insistent as time passes. I'm just enjoying myself, wholly lost in the sweetness of Sam's lips. I can feel her trying to move her hips and get some friction going, but I remain pushed against her, unyielding.
She breaks the kiss and pushes off to look at me. I return her stare, slapping what I hope is a sufficient smile on face. I just look at her, really look at her, trying to express how much I am into her, how much she makes my blood boil, how much I want to hear her scream as I pound her, all without saying a word, all without moving.
I don't know if she gets it, but she just stares at me, mouth barely open, eyes wide, and I can see the lust in them grow. She strains to move against me, but as strong as she is, I am still just stronger. Not to mention in a better position.
"Luke," she says, finally, "please fuck me."
I smile. After pulling out, I pause, before driving my cock back in, all the way, with more power than the first time. Sam closes her eyes, savoring the sensation, gasping as I bottom out.
I stop again when I'm all in, enjoying the feel of her pussy grasping my cock, the sheer feel of having her around me.
"Fuck me," says Sam. She's looking at me again.
I pull out once more, and thrust into her.
"Fuck me."
I pull out, and ram back in. Her pussy is still tight.
"Luke," she says, grabbing my head in her hand, "take me, just take me, before I fucking KILL YOU!"
Who am I to argue with such a request? I pick up the pace, and Sam voices her appreciation. "Yes, come on, just take me, hard, you fucking bastard!"
We do not last a long time at that pace. Sam urges me on with increasingly explicit descriptions and demands, and I try to maintain a good regular beat, pulling out completely before driving into her, again and again. Sam has pulled her knees up by her chest to let me in deeper, and her breathing gets shorter and shorter. She's had a few orgasms in the last few minutes, and I feel disgustingly proud.
"Sam, I'm gonna come soon."
"Go on, come, I want to feel you inside -- God, I wish I could feel you spurt into me -- unless..." she looks devious, "unless you want to come on me instead? Like in the pornos? Would you like to come on me? On my stomach? On my boobs? On my face? Wouldn't you like that, to see your jizz drip down my face?"
I don't know about you, Luke, but I do enjoy coming on a pretty girl when she's into it. But not tonight. I want to feel the warmth of her pussy as I come. Which is exactly what happens. I stiffen as I feel my balls about to explode, and then they do and raw fire courses through my cock. Sam feels it, and pulls me close, hugging me fiercely, rubbing her legs against my sides, squeezing me with her cunt.
"That's it, baby, that's it, come in me, come in me. Oooh..." she stiffens herself, and has a last orgasm, a quiet one, a final flicker on a long evening of passion.
We're both spent, and we just lie down, collapsed in each other's arms. I pull out of her so that the condom does not roll off when my cock deflates, but I shouldn't have feared anything, as my cock is still hard. Still, I roll over on my back, and Sam puts her head on my chest, long hair spilled out all over me like a blonde fan.
"That was wonderful, Sam, that was... wow."
"It was," she says. "Thank you."
"Oh, hey, you know, I didn't do much."
She raises herself up on an elbow, hooks her hair behind an ear, and the gesture makes her look younger than she is. She's looking at me.
"You've been incredibly patient. I know it wasn't easy to wait so long before... you know..."
"Before fucking like bunnies? Don't be shy, you've said much more interesting things earlier."
She blushes. That girl is going to burn up from the inside one day. "Yes, I have, haven't I? I guess talking dirty turns me on more than I'd like to admit. Anyways! Your patience. Thank you."
"No problem." Ain't that the truth. I feel like Cyrano's Christian, plucking the ripe kiss from a Roxanne seduced by someone else. Not enough to feel guilty about it, mind you.
"And actually, for a first time, it went very well. I've heard horror stories about losing one's virginity, so I was a bit worried."
"I wasn't a virgin."
"Huh? Then... what... why?"
She sighs. "It's a long story, and not especially interesting. To keep it short, it involved an uncle, some clueless parents, a scared little girl, and a lot of pain.It was only one time, one Christmas, a long time ago, but that was enough. I've been scared of intercourse ever since.
"Sam, my God, I'm sorry... had I known..."
"Had you known, you probably would not have done what you did tonight. I don't know why, I don't know how, but being with you tonight, I felt none of the fear that was plaguing me in the past. Just overwhelming lust, like nothing could get in the way. I don't know how you did it, but it was like plunging through a thick fog and finally getting to the other side back in the warm sunshine."
I could guess what had happened. My ability, which tends to arouse deep lust fed by powerful fantasies, must have overwhelmed her fear-induced block. Amazing. The thought of launching into a prosperous sexual-hangup therapist career crosses my mind, before being dismissed as a stupendously bad idea.
"I don't know what I did either," I say, "but I'm glad I did it."
She grins. "Of course, now we have some catching up to do. Shall we go again?" She reaches down to grasp my cock, and I gasp.
"Wait... hold on. Still sensitive. Give me a sec. I'll be right back." I get off the bed and head for the bathroom down the hall.
"Hurry back, there's something I want to try." I can hear the wickedness in her voice. Great, I created a monster, I think, not sorry for a second.
I take a quick leak in the frighteningly pink and fluffy bathroom, and then my life becomes real complicated real fast.
It starts with a key jiggling in the lock of the apartment door, and a deep-seated survival instinct makes me shut the light off in the bathroom and close the door but for a little sliver that leaves me enough of an opening to look out in the hallway. If I'm lucky, it's the roommate home early from a failed date. I can deal with someone of the female persuasion. "Sam, baby, you here?"
A man's voice. Baby. Fuck. Must be Luke. Or not. Either way, bad news. My ability doesn't work so well with men. And here I am, trapped in the bathroom, naked but for a spent condom threatening to fall off my now limp dick.
"In the bedroom, silly. I'm still waiting for you," shouts Sam.
"What do you mean, waiting?" I hear footsteps coming down the hall. A tall lanky boy, short blond hair, long leather jacket passes in front of the door I'm hiding behind. Hello Luke, pleased to meet you. Your girlfriend's a delicious lover.
"What the...? Sam? What... Fuck... Wow!" Okay, so Luke is no English major. Then again, I can't claim I wouldn't react similarly if my girlfriend was waiting for me naked in bed, looking like Sam did.
"Hope you don't mind," I hear Sam from the bedroom, "but I've always wondered what it'd feel like to be taken from behind. It is so... nasty. Slutty. Can I be your slut tonight, Luke? Do you want to fuck your little slut from behind? I swear I'll make it good for you. Please?"
I'm sure you will, Sam, I'm sure you will. The visual of Sam on her hands and knees on the bed, tight little ass up in the air, perhaps swaying gently, waiting to be grabbed and penetrated gets my cock hard again. Great timing, pal.
I never hear Luke's reply, and there may never have been one. All I hear are sounds of someone disrobing, and I take it that he is doing the smart thing of shutting up and fucking the hot number on the bed. Fucking lucky bastard.
And indeed, I eventually hear Sam's sharp intake of breath and heartfelt "Fuck yeah, push that cock in me, fuck yeah, fuck me!" followed by the unmistakable sounds of flesh hitting flesh. Off they go.
I wait perhaps five minutes, then chance a look out the door towards the bedroom. Luke has his back to me, standing at the foot of the bed, and is hammering into Sam, who's indeed on all fours on the bed, head down into a pillow, giving a running commentary of the thorough fucking she is receiving.
They are distracted enough that they never notice me sneak out of the bathroom. Trying to be as quiet as possible, although given the racket that those kids are making, I probably shouldn't have worried, I quickly get dressed in the living room, and negotiate the apartment door without bumping into a fragile vase or something.
The last thing I hear before I close the door and head back home is Sam's first doggy-style orgasm. The thought that it is the first of many makes me smile. You're welcome, Sam. Good luck to you. | null | null | Authors/BulgrozTheThird/Stories/The_Girl_From_The_Gym.txt |
116,386 | Orchidblooming | Just One Night | You are asleep, curled up behind me, like a comma around my period. The room is black and still. I listen to your steady breathing as my eyes search out the outline of the window in front of me. One night. How could I sleep? My lesson to you is to make the most of the time we have. There is no time to waste on sleeping.
I am intensely aware of every inch of your warm flesh touching mine, from your arm draped heavily over my shoulder to our touching toes. The only movement is the rise and fall of your chest against my back, and the small stirring of your breath in my hair. Your scent is still new to me and it drives me insane -- I want to nuzzle your neck and trace my nose under the line of your jaw up to your ear. I want to flick my tongue in that notch at the base of your throat and taste the salt of your skin while I rake my nails down your back. There are a hundred different permutations and only one night in which to experience them all.
I know you need the rest, but while I am thinking about you, my hips start making small motions, nudging up against you, gently rocking back and forth with tiny movements, with a mind of their own. I feel you start to harden behind me, even though I know you are not yet awake. Your cock lies straight up along the crack of my ass, and I feel you stir. I reach back with my hand and pull it down between my legs. I am shaved and the slit is wet with my desire for you. There is no resistance as I guide the tip into me. I can tell you are fully awake, and I push myself back into you, sliding it all the way inside of me. I grind and squirm with small movements for a moment, savoring the sensation of you filling me up. You grab my hip with your hand to still me, and I know you are too close already. I am tempted to pull it out of you anyway, to take your pleasure even though you aren't ready yet, but I am selfish -- I want more.
You raise up on your shoulder, and staying inside of me, then up onto your knees. I rotate onto my back and look up at you. I can see your outline but not your face, and the blackness seems to make the sensations more intense. I wrap my left leg around your hip and hook my foot behind your back, pulling my hips up so that you are securely inside of me. Then I raise my right foot up to lay it on your shoulder. You run your hand up the length of my thigh, admiring the hard muscle under the soft skin, and then under my leg up the curve of my calf. You pause for a moment and encircle my ankle with your fingers, wondering at how small I am. You lay your hand over the top of my foot as it lays flat on your chest, and stroke in and out of me a few times. I raise my foot up again and run my toes lightly down your jaw, feeling the roughness of your cheek. You take it in your hand again, your wide palm wrapping all the way around my instep, and kiss my big toe, then gently suck it into your mouth. The warm wetness makes me think of your tongue between my legs, and suddenly I am ready to be fucked.
I lower my leg and roll over with you still inside of me. I raise up on my knees, my legs spread to the outside of yours. Your cock penetrates me so deeply that it seems like I can feel you in my heart. I raise my head up and you grab the hair on the back of my head. As my head pulls back, the curve of my spine deepens and you drive your cock deeper inside of me. You let go and run your hand down my back, tracing the curve, your fingers sliding easily in the dampness. My ass is snuggled up to the flat plane of your lower belly, and I am squirming against you again. You are teasing me, holding back, knowing that I want you to fuck me hard. I cry out, begging you to give it to me. You have what you wanted, and you pull it all the way out, and then slam it all the way in, hard. You pound me, stroke after stroke, making me moan and squeal uncontrollably. You pull it all the way out again, and I think you are teasing me again, until I feel the head slide up. You have never done this to me before, and while I am scared of the pain, I am more excited. It slides in easily because you are so wet with my juices, but it is tight, tighter than you ever imagined. I make a noise deep in my throat and I begin sliding down that knife edge between pain and pleasure. You can't stand it much longer, and neither can I, and in moments we are both lost in shuddering orgasms.
We collapse down onto our sides, and in a few moments your breath slows, and I know you have drifted off again already. As I look at the window again, I can see light beginning to grow behind the curtains, and I know the night will be over soon. | null | null | Authors/Orchidblooming/Just One Night (MF, anal).txt |
116,464 | Sterling | Roger's Little Girls | You are the girls of Roger's Island, the luckiest girls on earth. No girl anywhere else on earth is as lucky as you because she doesn't have the opportunity to please Roger.
Roger delivered your mothers from lives of woe and misery in the United States, and has provided you with a wonderful place to live and everything you could want. You are all his daughters, so you owe him the gift of your very life itself. None of you would exist if he hadn't deigned to provide your mother with some of his sperm to fertilize her egg and create you. You are yourself half Roger, and that too makes you one of the luckiest girls on earth.
Roger is intelligent, compassionate, kind, and understanding. He is also handsome, masculine, and strong, the counterbalance to the female in all of you.
Roger is, of course, different from you between his legs. He has his magnificent penis, often long and straight, firm yet soft. From its tip shoots forth creamy semen, the liquid of life. Below his penis swing his two testicles, or balls, where his body makes the sperm that makes women pregnant and brings new life into the world. Roger does not have the little lips or vaginal opening between his legs that you all have.
Roger is very fond of all of you, and likes all parts of your bodies, but he is especially drawn to those parts between your legs. Your vaginas, the special holes inside your lips, are the most exciting of all to him. There is really only one reason you have a vagina at all -- to receive Roger's penis. That is why nature gave you one. This is where he glides that magical organ to shoot out the liquid of life to make new babies. When big girls and women think that his precious semen might start a baby in them, they make sure he knows this. They are especially keen to do anything that will please him, urging him inside to deposit his sperm if that is his will. There is no higher good than to become pregnant and bear one of Roger's children. Big girls all want Roger to surge his sperm into them at just the time she has an egg he can fertilize. This lets them repeat the process that made you, to pass on the gift and make as many more of the luckiest girls in the world as you can.
You are little girls, so when Roger surges his semen up inside your vaginas, it cannot make you pregnant. Someday you will grow big enough so that it can. It may be frustrating to have to wait, but you must learn to be patient. You may eventually bear ten or even twenty of his children. But even though his semen cannot make you pregnant, Roger loves to spurt it into you. He too dreams of the day when his semen could make you pregnant. But he also cherishes your bodies just the way they are.
When you were much younger, your mothers stretched your vaginas so they were big enough to accommodate Roger's penis, to let him do what he wants to do, to help him achieve ecstasy. It is a great honor to you if Roger slides his penis inside you, and a greater honor for him to fill you with his magical whitish fluid. It is good to think carefully about the holy act in which Roger accepts your offer to penetrate your body to achieve his ecstasy. He glows with pleasure when he first inserts his penis into your vagina. His male principle finds outlet as he rams his penis back and forth, giving him exquisite pleasure. Sometimes it may be a little rough on your delicate feminine tissues, but that in itself is a delicious contrast to savor as you yield to his maleness. Roger's pleasure builds as he prepares to shoot his semen out. He breathes more heavily, thrusts faster and deeper, and closes his eyes to concentrate on just how good it feels for him. Then you may feel all his muscles tighten, and feel his penis swell inside your vagina, then feel it twitch as he gasps or moans. That is when he feels the greatest pleasure, and those twitches are contractions in his male parts that shoot the semen out. You will feel a wet warmth deep within you as he blesses your innermost place with his semen. You are receiving from him a holy communion. Look closely at Roger's face as he reaches that peak moment and you will see the immense pleasure he feels. You are lucky to be that near him when he has his orgasm, and doubly lucky to be a girl whose body Roger has enjoyed so much.
You should never need to hide any physical sensations you are having. If Roger hurts your body, you can say "ouch" or tell him that. Usually it will be an accident, and he will quickly stop doing whatever hurts, because Roger loves and honors you. Sometimes he might be hurting you on purpose -- for reasons only he knows. You should never hide your sensations. But remember that his pleasure is always most important. If he wants to cause you pain, you should feel the pain while also knowing that it is good because it makes Roger happy. It is also something to treasure because it is so rare that Roger intends to hurt a girl -- at that time and place, you are very special. Yet you should never try or expect to feel pain. Roger knows how to manipulate and touch a girl's body to make her feel anything, and you should be happy to follow his lead, let your body react naturally, and delight in whatever he makes you feel.
When Roger sees you, you never know for sure what he wants. He may simply want you to go away and mind your own business. He may want to just talk with you, or get you to dance for him, or sing, or tell him a story. He may just want to look at you. Your are blessed that nature has made you in a way that Roger loves to look at. When you are around Roger, your highest priority should always be to see if you can help give him pleasure or make him happy. This includes being aware of your female body that he loves so much, and revealing or hiding it in ways he will find exciting. You have done a wonderful thing if you have helped Roger to feel excited.
He is most excited by those female lips between your legs. They are the visible symbol of your being a girl. Always be aware of them in relation to him. He will often want to see them, or touch them, or lick them. Sometimes he likes them to be hidden a little so he has to work to get at them. For instance, if they are under your skirt, he finds it very exciting to slide his hand up under there to feel them. He also likes to see them directly. Follow his hints. Roger likes to know that you are thinking of him and his pleasure and willing to do anything to make him happy.
Roger may tell you or give you a hint as to what he wants you to do. But if he doesn't, these are some ideas: If you are not clothed below the waist, turn to face him so your girl parts are in his full view and stick your pelvis out to emphasize them. If you have a skirt or dress on, offer to pull that skirt or dress up to show him what is up there. You can tell from his expression whether he wants more or not. These actions assure him that you know that your female lips and your vagina are available to him at absolutely any time he wants, for him to fondle, lick, kiss, or penetrate with his penis. Your whole body is always available to him, but you emphasize the parts that define you as a girl and are most likely to excite him and make him happy.
But it is likely that Roger will also want to touch your body in some way. He will often want to run his hands all over your body. Many areas of your skin feel good to you when he touches them. Try to relax and pay careful attention to how good it feels. Let him know that with smiles or wiggles or sighs. When he touches you between the legs, that is likely to feel very good too. Nature has made your body so that it feels pleasure when he touches you there. When he touches your clitoris it is likely to feel especially good. After a while you may feel waves of pleasure. These are a treasure he bestows on you, and you should always let yourself go and feel them as fully as you can when he is trying to give them to you. It is a blessed reminder of the kind of pleasure he feels every single time he shoots the creamy liquid out of his penis.When he kisses your face, and especially your lips, you are especially blessed just to have Roger so close to you physically, sharing a kind of closeness that isn't there when he is only sliding his penis in and out of your vagina.
Roger may want to put his wonderful penis at any position on or in your body, whether it be on your stomach, under your chin, between the cheeks of your butt, or anywhere else. So far he has not wanted to slide it into a girl's anus, but if he did, it would be a great honor and you should encourage it and welcome it.
Roger likes a vagina to be wet and welcoming before he slides his penis into it. You should make sure your vagina is always available to him, fully ready. You should put plenty of lubricant from the squeeze tubes into yourself a few times a day.
There are a few different ways Roger might want you to position yourself when he is going to insert his penis into your vagina. Most often he will want you on your back, facing him with your legs wide apart. He will either hold himself up above you so he can see you, or else lie down on you.
He may also want you on your hands and knees with your buttocks up in the air, so he can kneel behind you and slide into your vagina from the rear.
Or he may lie on his back and ask you to slide your vagina down over him. Unless he hints that you should do something else, you should bounce up and down vigorously to make sure the tip of his penis is sliding back and forth on the wet tissues deep inside your vagina. The tip of his penis is where his skin is most sensitive and where he feels the most pleasure. You should always think of where the tip of his penis is and ways you might give him more pleasure by attending to it in some way.
When Roger slides his penis in and out of you, it will make you feel especially good. This is a confirmation from nature that what Roger is doing to you is good and right.
Remember that the purpose of your pleasure is to make Roger happy -- the fact that you enjoy it is just incidental. When you are not with Roger, you should never touch yourself in ways that feel good between your legs, so that it is so very special when Roger does it to you. You want Roger to know that you only want to feel sexually good when in his presence. He wants us to be free and happy and enjoy ourselves in all other aspects of life when we aren't with him -- it is just sexual pleasure that is reserved for your time with him.
After your vagina, the place he is most likely to want to place his penis is inside your mouth. Your mouth is wet and smooth, much like a vagina, and your tongue can provide him specific sensations that your vagina never could. If his penis is in your mouth, you should always tentatively lick the edge and underside of the very tip, the parts that make him feel the most pleasure. He may indicate that he is not interested, and of course you stop immediately. He may thrust his penis back and forth in your mouth as he would in a vagina. If it goes deep enough to cause you to gag or feel discomfort, don't hide that you feel that way, but keep in mind that if Roger meant to do it, it is making him feel good and happy, and you should welcome your discomfort.
Sometimes Roger will ejaculate his precious creamy white seed of life into your mouth. Unless he tells you otherwise, you should swallow it, thinking of how blessed you will be to have such a holy fluid in your stomach.
In general, treat Roger's creamy white seed with reverence, no matter where it is -- whether he spurts it onto your body, into your mouth, or whether it oozes out of your vagina after he has spurted it up in there. You can rub it on your vulva or paint it onto your nipples. You can lick your finger off. Or you can offer it to another girl.
Roger's penis is not always hard. Especially right after he has ejaculated, it may get soft for a while. Be ready to attend to it at those times too. Offer to lick it, or caress it with your fingers. Stroke the sac containing his testicles, to appreciate the work they do in producing the sperm that starts all babies. Look at his penis and admire how absolutely wonderful and beautiful it is. He may also be happy for you to rub your own little girl parts back and forth along its soft length as you hold the soft tip of his penis against you. You can also try pushing it a little ways into your vagina, if it will go there.
Roger may want to hug your body to him as he rests or even when he goes to sleep. Keep in mind what an amazing honor that is and enjoy the warmth of his body. You can fall asleep if you wish, relishing how you are especially safe and warm in the embrace of this wonderful man. Of course you should be ready at any time to do anything he wishes, including making your vagina available to his penis. Right when he wakes up he is especially likely to want to do that.
Roger frequently wants to play with girls and women in groups. He can only touch a certain number of girls at a time, but he can see a great many. Be prepared to show him your vulva or your vaginal opening. His hands and penis are busy with other girls, and then he is likely to want you to rub yourself and slide your finger into your own vagina or into that of another girl if. Then and only then are you allowed to make yourself feel good.
He may slide his penis into one girl or woman, then shift to another, then another. Be especially ready to make your vagina completely available to him and easy to access the moment he indicates he would like that, and also be ready for him to withdraw at any time.
At any time Roger may want you to kiss him, often his cheek or ear. Or he may want you to talk "dirty" to him, that is by using words like: fuck, pussy, cunt, prick, cum, twat, hump, mate, knock up, etc. You can learn how to do that by listening to older girls. He is especially likely to want you to say those things as part of a group.
To sum it all up, Roger is a wonderful man, the underlying source of all our happiness. Our bodies are his to use exactly as he wants, and assuring his pleasure is our highest goal. Your vulva and your vagina are what he is most likely to want to use, so be prepared to provide them for him. He gives you the highest honor a young girl can earn if he slides his penis into your vagina and ejaculates inside you. Then you are truly blessed! | Mg cons pedo lolita oral | null | Authors/Sterling/Roger's Little Girls.txt |
116,684 | vinnie_tesla | On Plotting | You know that feeling when you're singing a song you used to know well? In your mind, you're groping ahead of what your mouth is singing, trying to recall the next line.
Five seconds into the future is murky. The connections between the favorite lines that you can remember are unclear. Somehow, though, as you finish each line, the next one leaps to your lips after it, like a bridge materializing beneath your steps.
That's pretty much what most fiction writing feels like for me. My plot outlines in advance are extremely loose. It's only as each event is fully described that the next one achieves some kind of clarity. When this works, it's beautiful and satisfying; I'm surfing on top of the wave.
However, when it fails, I'm pretty much left with nothing. Once I lose that momentum, it can be days or even weeks before I can get the narrative engine going again. "Oh, just make something up!" I tell myself in frustration, but everything seems patently false.
The other danger, when I stop for too long in one place, is that I'll cease to be persuaded by the characters I wrote. "Oh, this isn't really what he would do," I start to think, "this whole story is impossible." So far, I've managed to suppress it when it came on. I've done the too-much-of-a-perfectionist-to-actually-write-anything thing. I've done it for years, and it's much less fun than being an imperfectionist and taking the little felicities when they come among the compromises and kludges that allow one to actually put something out. | null | null | Authors/vinnie_tesla/www/plot.txt |
116,844 | Miss Tuffet | Jenny | You sit in your car in front of a pretty little cape cod house. Panic is intermingling with excitement at a heart-pounding rate. Sunny afternoon, children are playing in the yard down the street, life is moving at its usual pace, but for you, today is extraordinary. Finally, you gather your things (before you have to fend off another doubt) and get out of the car, walking quickly down the little path leading to the front door of the house. Just as you approach, the door opens.
A short woman in her fifties is standing in the doorway, her face very pretty, carefully made up, but her body showing some extra weight and certainly, her age. A short greeting, somewhat awkward, as the woman steps away and lets you in, closing the door.
"This is my Master," she points to a gentleman sitting in an armchair, sipping tea from a delicate cup. "He is willing to assess you today."
He sets his cup on the coffee table and rises slowly. Not too tall. Distinguished looking, in his fifties as well, not unattractive, not handsome either.
"Jenny, is it? Melodie speaks highly of you. Pleased to meet you."
You don't know whether to curtsy or offer your hand. Just how far do manners go in situations like these?
"Yes, I am Jenny, Sir. Melodie said you would be willing.... to... I have never.... and..." You give up and look at the floor as your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but he quickly helps out:
"Yes, I said I was willing to assess you, providing that you are a good girl and you behave. I have no time for little games, but an honest desire to submit, I will always support." He touches your chin and lifts your face to him, "Now, would you like a cup of tea, or would you prefer to begin right away?"
"Begin, I guess..." and you feel those familiar pangs of panic rise up your spine, wash over you and make you shiver.
"Good."
He sits back down in his armchair, and Melodie just across him on the sofa. You find yourself standing alone, almost in the middle of the room which is brightly lit by sun streaming through two large windows. Your oversized purse still hanging on your shoulder, and you finally remember to set it down on the floor, resting against the sofa. A moment passes, impossibly long, and then he says simply:
"Strip for us, Jenny."
Oh God. Your knees go weak, your head is spinning, you look at the door. But this what you wanted, this is what you fantasized about, don't chicken out now. You can do it, nobody will ever know.
"You mean, here, Sir? Just like this?"
"Yes, Jenny. Just like this. Your blouse first."
You reach for the top button with your trembling fingers and slowly start unbuttoning.
They are watching you. His arms are crossed over his chest, and Melodie is sipping her tea.
You avert your eyes and slide the blouse off your shoulders, revealing a pretty bra which you bought in anticipation of this event. If your nipples didn't feel hard enough before, they are sure pushing against the lace now.
"Your skirt, Jenny...and your shoes."
The skirt is a slinky one, it just slips off. It's the shoes that give you trouble, all of a sudden you feel self-conscious about your looks. Those high heels help your figure very much... no, you are not perfect.
And you stand barefoot in their living room, dressed in your new panties and bra, well aware of your shortcomings, and the chill in the air.
"Very good, Jenny. Now the bra."
Without a word, you reach back to unclasp your bra, and the straps fall down your arms to your elbows. Your arms involuntarily cross over your breasts and keep the bra just covering the nipples. Your cheeks are so flushed. What is going on in your mind?
"Ahh.. shy, aren't we..." he says, and a small smile crosses his lips. "Turn around."
You turn to the wall, your hands still clutching the bra, but now you are aware of your bottom, almost completely exposed under fancy panties. They are lacy in front, but very sheer in the back. Your cheeks clench involuntarily, and you feel another wash of panic.
"Bend over, Jenny, and grab your ankles."
You obey, not wanting to think. The bra falls to the floor, your large breasts hang lewdly, and your plump ass strains against the fabric of the panties...before their eyes.
"Turn around like that, Jenny. Yes, I know it's awkward, but I enjoy watching swaying tits, especially ones as large as yours."
Oh my god, Jenny, just look at yourself. You turn in their direction again, showing them your breasts, hanging and swaying with each move you make.
Now Melodie speaks: "Ohhh, Jenny, they are so big! I didn't know. And they look soft too.. jiggle them a little, please?"
You close your eyes and shake your upper body a little, sending ripples and waves through your hanging breasts. Melodie giggles quietly, but he is just watching you.
You are so embarrassed.
"Take your panties down, but leave them around your knees. You might have to spread your legs a little to keep them from falling."
Slowly, you hook your fingers into the waistband and push the panties down over your tummy, revealing the pubic hair in front and feeling the fabric slide down over your bottom. You slowly reach down to push them to your knees, trying desperately not to make your breasts jiggle too much.
So now you are standing there naked, shifting uncomfortably from foot to foot, your panties ridiculously bunched up around your knees, your skin hot and alive with thousands of tiny goose bumps.
"Lovely, Jenny. You have very nice tits. They hang a little, but that makes them even more desirable. They will bring much pleasure to your Master. Do you enjoy having your nipples tortured?"
"Ohh..Sir. I have never had my nipples tortured. Sometimes I fantasize about it, but..."
"I see. Did you ever shave your pubic hair?"
"Yes, Sir, once. But it wasn't comfortable, so now I just trim it very close."
"There is nothing wrong with that, Jenny. I am not a fan of barren pussy myself. Turn around now, let me see your ass."
You turn around slowly, careful so your panties don't drop down, and present your ass to them. Your cheeks are clenched again, but with great difficulty, since your knees are apart.
"Have you ever been spanked?"
"No, Sir. Never."
"You will be spanked today. That is, if you beg me prettily enough, you will be spanked today. Bend over, Jenny."
A little whimper escapes you as you obey. Your ass sticks out, but since it is a pretty plump ass that you have, your cheeks don't give way to secrets of your crack. You hear him chuckle a bit as he tells you:
"You will have to reach back with your hands and pull your cheeks open. Wide. I wish to see your asshole, and how little it looks now, before I have you fitted with a buttplug."
And you close your eyes tightly, reach back with both hands and open your asscheeks to him. You feel the cool air on the skin so rarely exposed, and you feel your little asshole twitching with excitement as they are looking at you.
"Don't move, Jenny. Just stay like that for me..."
*click* A picture is taken. You wish the floorboards would open and swallow you.
He walks around you with a camera in hand, *click*, the one from the side, showing your hanging tits.
"Look up at me, Jenny, and smile wide. I like to have faces in these pictures too."
*click* "This way my time is not wasted, this way I know you will obey and do what I know is good for you. If you do, you will get these pictures when you go home. Are you gonna be a good girl?"
You shake your head as your smile freezes for his unrelenting *clicks*, suddenly realizing there is no turning back.
"A few more nice angles.... there we go... spread those cheeks wider..yesss...where will Jenny get her buttplug? Hmmm? Show me, point your finger and turn your head this way, I want another smile with that picture!"
You spread your cheeks even wider and point your middle finger towards your asshole..oh god..how can you smile for this...but you do. Now you have to. No turning back.
"Ok, Jenny. Enough pictures for now. Did you like our little photo session?"
Flushed and trembling, you say: "Yes, Sir. I liked the photo session."
"You liked having your ass photographed? Your asshole showing? My my..things we are learning about our little Jenny.."
You straighten your back as he puts his camera away, panties almost slip off, but you catch them at the last moment...suddenly he is there, whispering dangerously: "Firstly, I did not tell you that you may get up, and secondly, I expect an answer to all the questions I ask, right away. Jenny is not being a good girl, and Jenny needs to be reminded of her place here. Down! To your hands and knees..yes...on all fours! And crawl to the kitchen...quickly, crawl quickly...watch your panties now..."
And you crawl on all fours, desperately afraid you will lose your panties, it's hard to crawl with your knees so far apart..and quickly at that, imagining what a picture you make like this, as a new fear sets in: what will happen in the kitchen?
He spanks your ass a few times when you slow down, and you feel the burn as something very unfamiliar and much more painful than the spanks you have only imagined so far. Melodie follows after him and goes straight to the refrigerator.
"The usual, Master?"
"Yes, the usual will do for her. Pick a long one. She is a big girl, she can take it!""He turns to you again, motions that you should kneel on the chair, and pushes your torso down onto the kitchen table. Your breasts get squished against the cold, hard surface, and he tells you in an even, almost kind voice: "It is my policy to correct all of the girls from the very beginning. This will not hurt very much, but it will feel unpleasant. It will make you remember, it will make you listen. Melodie has learned very well, I am sure you will too."
He chuckled to himself as if he was saying something very funny: "Also, I greatly enjoy watching a dancing bottom. The cable man is due soon, maybe we will let him enjoy too!"
With that, Melodie opens the refrigerator and takes out a little foil-wrapped package, perhaps four inches long and the thickness of a man's thumb. She unwraps the foil, and there is something white inside...you smell ginger.
"Don't be scared, sweetie..it's not that bad", Melodie says "it's just a ginger and glycerin suppository. Master will insert a couple of inches of it up into your bottom, and the rest will remain outside. The more you work and squeeze your pretty asshole, the quicker you will melt it and the rest of the suppository will fall off. I have to warn you, though...it burns. It makes your bottom feel alive in ways you have never felt before!"
She moved to your side as she was speaking to you, and by now her hands are on your asscheeks, separating them, pulling them open and inspecting you closely. You groan against the table, thinking that this must be the most humiliating thing you have ever experienced.
"Master, the suppository is slippery enough, I don't think she needs lubrication. She seems...quite wet."
He leans over you as well, and you feel the pressure of something very cold and slippery against your anus...pushing steadily. It feels so big, but you cannot resist it, it is too slippery, it keeps slowly invading you and your asshole is enveloping the coldness of it. Very cold, you feel exactly how deep it is lodged inside you and try to squeeze your asscheeks, just to feel the invader keeping your ass opened. Such a strange feeling...this thing hanging out... you lay your head back to the table, but he slaps your ass hard: "No resting now! Down, girl..down from the chair and don't lose your pretty little tail! Keep your panties around your knees...let's go back to the living room...all fours... and wiggle your bottom, I like to see the tail move!"
You carefully get down from the chair and crawl back... he keeps holding the "tail" as you move, guiding you and teasing you too. How humiliating. When he lifts it, you squeal from the pressure inside your ass. It makes him laugh. "Like a little piglet! Maybe I should have attached a pigtail to the suppository...oh well..next time!"
He leads you to the wall opposite the living room entrance and positions you in front of a large mirror, your back to the room. You start feeling the effects of ginger inside your bottom, coldness giving way to heat, which builds unbelievably fast. Heat, burning, and terrible itching too. You shift uncomfortably and place one hand on your ass, hoping to move the cheek a little bit, but he catches that right away:
"Jenny, honey...both hands on your breasts. Hold them up high. Be a good girl now and pay attention to your lesson!"
You can partly see him in the mirror, he actually took a magazine from the rack and is leafing through...hardly paying attention to your wriggling and whimpering. The suppository is large, you can't even imagine working it out, and besides, as you work your asshole, the slippery stick slides this way and that.
The doorbell rings. You freeze, momentarily forgetting about the terrible burning and itching inside your ass, and you watch in the mirror as he gets up and moves to the door, opening it wide.
A cable guy. Oh god, not the cable guy.
"Come in, please. We are having really bad reception on this TV right here. Could you please take a look?"
The guy enters, and you catch his eyes in the mirror. He is looking at you, your nakedness and the strangely protruding "tail" from your bottom...he is speechless.
Melodie's Master pauses a moment and then quickly explains:
"That's our Jenny. She is standing there until her medicine dissolves in her bottom. - Jenny, say hello to the gentleman!"
Oh..what humiliation... You greet the man quietly and look away, so you don't have to see his expression in the mirror.
He nods, confused, embarrassed and excited, and turns to the TV.
"Let's see here... oh, here...your cable was about to fall off, the connection was loose! See? The picture is perfect already."
Master laughs and shakes his head, then looks at his watch. "Oh look at the time, Jenny's medicine should be rotated and her bottom warmed. Would you mind helping with that? You are obviously very good.."
The guy's cheeks flush almost to the color of yours as he nods quickly. "What do I need to do?"
"Jenny will bend over and spread her cheeks wide for you. You should turn her suppository a quarter turn and slap her bottom hard 15 times, until it's pink in color. That helps distribute the heat."
You are listening, mortified at exposing your most secret little hole to yet another stranger today, but see no way out....so you step away from the wall and bend over. Your fingers digging into your fleshy cheeks and separating them for this man, so he could rotate the suppository. You are whimpering, the heat in your face is making you dizzy, as the cable guy presses his hand on your shoulder, pushing you down lower and making your ass stick out more if that is even possible.
He grabs a hold of the stick and moves it around, loosening it...then starts fucking you with it, sliding it in and out of your asshole. He bends down to you a little and says (obviously very horny by now): "Spread your cheeks wider if you want me to help you with your medicine, I like to see what I am doing..."
Bastard, you think to yourself, but obediently spread those fat cheeks wider, feeling the excruciating burning, but admitting to yourself that his fucking motion helps to alleviate the itch.
Melodie's Master speaks from the other end of the room: "Now, Jenny, ask the gentleman nicely to spank your bottom. We don't have all day.."
Your throat dry, your words husky: "Sir, would you please....spank my bottom?"
"Why, I'd be happy to! Fifteen times that was? Move your hands now and hold your breasts as nicely as I saw you when I came in here."
Then the first slap falls. God, it hurts! He has no mercy, he is pounding on your ass methodically, covering every square inch of the white expanse, turning it red hot, until he is finished.
"Now, Jenny, the polite thing is to thank this nice gentleman for helping you out. Don't disappoint me, or even worse, embarrass me. Alright?"
You had no idea this really hurts so much. Your ass is on fire on the outside and your asshole is on fire inside. Ginger, as diluted in this suppository as it may be, is still doing its job, and now you need to go to the bathroom too. Whimpering, shuffling your feet, squirming...
"Thank you very much, Sir... for...spanking my bottom..", you speak and sound really grateful as your sphincter muscle finally works through the suppository stick, and closes. You feel strange, your anus twitches. Ginger burned, but also made you feel a little numb, itchy, and out of control. But, like an obedient girl, you stand there against the wall, holding up your breasts, fully aware of the people not few feet away from you...watching you, but also talking among themselves as if you are not even there.
As the urgency becomes stronger, you dare to whisper: "I... need to go the bathroom...please?"
No response, no sign that they heard you, so you repeat a little bit louder:
"Please? I need to go to the bathroom.."
Master turns towards you and smiles: "No, dear. This is the perfect opportunity to try out your buttplugs. Let's see how useful they are at...plugging you!"
Melodie and the cable guy laughed at this as if it was really amusing, while you are only feeling cold sweat washing over you.
Master opens a little briefcase that was sitting under the end table, and you see an array of buttplugs, neatly arranged according to size. Starting with quite small to simply frightening.
Melodie is fetching KY as ordered, and you are led to the back of the sofa and bent deeply over the low backrest. | null | null | Authors/missTuffetwrites/Jenny.txt |
117,335 | Cactusjuggler | Owned By A Teenage Goddess | You never expect to meet God—or the devil either for that matter—in your office at nine o'clock on a Wednesday morning. But as it turns out, that's exactly what happened to me.
It all started when my secretary Nancy went on maternity leave. I was the general counsel for the company I worked at. Human resources arranged a temp to cover for Nancy while she was out, but I couldn't believe my eyes when she showed up at my office that Wednesday morning. Nancy, my regular secretary, was a forty-something, angry little gnome of a woman who was near my diminutive height of five feet tall. Her replacement didn't have anything in common with her at all. The woman HR had sent up to replace her was young, blonde, and tall. And, she was also fantastically beautiful!
Upon first seeing her, I was practically stunned by her physical presence.
"Hi, I'm Hillary," she said.
None of my coworkers knew it about me, but I'd known I was into girls since I was sixteen years old. I had a thing for tall, voluptuous blondes. HR couldn't have known it, but they'd sent me a girl right out of my fantasies. I stood there in shock for a moment before I managed to speak.
"Janeen White," I answered, offering her my hand.
Even in my heels, I had to crane my head to look up at her. She had to be nearly six feet tall.
"Nice to meet you, Janeen. I guess we're going to be working together for a while?"
"Yes. Yes, here, let's get you settled in," I told her.
The next ten minutes were a blur. It's embarrassing to admit, but from the first moment she walked into my outer office, I had a crush on her. While I got her settled in at Nancy's desk and showed her where everything was, I found being around her so exciting that it was like I couldn't catch my breath. During our brief conversation, I managed to learn that she was just nineteen years old, and I found that she also appeared to be quite intelligent. All of which just made her seem that much hotter to me.
When I went into my inner office and closed the door behind me, the wind went out of me in a rush. My heart was pounding, and my hands were sweaty. How pathetic was I, a thirty-year-old successful attorney, my heart all a-twitter about a teenage girl?
The rest of the day, I made up reasons to talk with her every so often, just so I could be around her. I was pathetic, but I couldn't resist the urge I felt to just gawk at her. She was so hot. It was a struggle for me not to just stare openly at her, but luckily, she didn't seem to notice.
I settled into a working rhythm with Hillary that week. I decided that she was going to work out just fine. She had a little bit of attitude about her, but I could live with it. Working with her meant seeing her and being around her, which I couldn't get enough of, really. After my initial period of being weak in the knees around her, I got a hold of myself and threw myself back into my work.
By that Friday afternoon, I'd decided I didn't blame all those fifty-year-old male executives who arranged to have hot secretaries. Hillary wasn't the best secretary; she wasn't even as good as bitter Nancy had been, but it was worth it to have a little eye-candy around. It *was* a little distracting, though. I found myself frequently thinking about her when I should be working. Knowing she was sitting just outside my office door, it was hard to stop daydreaming about the beautiful teen.
"Good morning, Ms. White," Hillary greeted me when I walked in, and it was all I could do not to stand there staring at her; God, was she beautiful.
It was Tuesday morning of the second week of our working together that I realized I was in trouble. I'd deluded myself when I thought I could get over my crush. I couldn't stop thinking about Hillary! Every time I was near her, I couldn't take my eyes off of her. Twice I caught myself getting aroused as I sat at my desk, actively daydreaming about her. It wasn't just her physical beauty either; I was mesmerized by her confidence and style. She was only nineteen, and yet I felt like *I* was the younger, less experienced woman when I was around her. Hillary just exuded some quality that made her irresistible to me. We had only been working together five days, and already I found myself totally enamored of her. Of course, I hid my perverse crush, and she didn't have any idea. At least, that's what I thought—until that Wednesday morning.
That morning, Hillary was in my office discussing my appointments with me. As we finished, she turned to leave, and I could have sworn that she exaggerated the sway of her hips when she walked out of my office. My eyes didn't leave her bottom the whole time, and she when she turned to close the door behind her, I saw the tiniest smirk cross her face as she looked back at me. She knew that I was watching her! I froze. My face flushed hot with shame at her apparent knowledge. I was completely transfixed; I didn't even breathe then. It was only when she closed the door that I found I could breathe again, the air rushing into my absurdly panicked lungs.
Sitting there at my desk, I was so embarrassed I didn't know what to do. I'd made a fool of myself by letting this teenage girl realize I had the hots for her. I was so ashamed that I couldn't leave my office.
I couldn't get my pounding heart under control for the longest time. I just sat there, horrified at what had happened as the morning hours passed. I couldn't concentrate or get anything done; I was just too flustered.
And then, at noon, there was a soft knock at my office door, and there she was. She gave me a little grin as I looked up from the contract I pretended to be reading. I felt my face flush hot again, and my heart raced at the sight of her.
"I'm going to lunch," she said, still grinning at me.
"Okay."
And then she closed the door, and I felt safe again. I'd survived seeing her again, and it was a big relief. Maybe I'd been wrong about her noticing my staring, I thought to myself.
The rest of the day passed without any more incidents, mostly because I made a point of avoiding Hillary altogether, staying closed up in my office until after she left for the day.
The next morning, I talked with her for a while when she came in, just waiting for the shoe to drop. But she didn't say anything about the day before, and I finally started to really feel better about the whole thing.
That is, until Hillary brought me a file I'd asked for. She knocked lightly on my door as she always did, and then she was standing in front of my desk and handing me the file.
"Thank you," I told her, and then as I looked at it, I realized it was the wrong folder.
"Hillary, you've pulled the wrong file. This is the master services template for Jensen. But, this is the one we did before the merger. I need the newer one," I told her.
"Oh. You didn't mention that when you asked me to find it for you," she said, and once again, I ignored her attitude for the sake of being near her.
"I-I'm sorry. Please get the other one," I managed, barely believing that I felt so enthralled by this girl that I was apologizing to her for *her* mistake!
Hillary took the file and turned to leave. On her way out, the file folder slipped out of her hand and fell to the floor.
"Oh, I'm so clumsy sometimes," Hillary said, and then she reached down to pick up the folder.
I watched her as if she was in slow-motion. She didn't bend at the knees the way a woman wearing a skirt usually does. No, she bent in half at the waist in a way that was...supremely erotic. The angle of her body thrust her beautiful bottom out at me. As she bent farther and farther, the short skirt hiked up and revealed a quick flash of her panties! I stared so hard her ass must have felt the heat of my perverted gaze.
She stayed bent over like that for a long moment, too long. Then she peered back at me around her side and smiled. She picked up the folder, then slowly straightened, smoothing her skirt back into place as she did it.
Once more, she'd managed to render me flustered to the point of physical fear. I truly didn't know what to do. She was teasing me, but could it really be possible for this hot young girl to be interested in me? My lust for her was so strong it scared me. But the chance, however tiny, that Hillary was somehow coming on to me—the chance that I could somehow be with her, drove me insane. I had to make a move, to find out if my dream could really come true."Hillary? Would you... would you like to go out to dinner with me tonight?" My voice sounded wavering and small - I barely managed to say it at all. The moment my words left my mouth, I knew I'd made a terrible mistake.
Hillary's face scrunched up in disgust for a brief moment, and then she was laughing at me. Deep, throaty laughter that made me just want to curl up and die. I saw it then in her eyes, saw the disdain she felt for me. My face and hands suddenly felt as if they were burning up, and I knew I must be red as a ripe strawberry.
"You think I'm... you think I'm a lesbian like you?" She asked me, dropping the file on my desk and staring down at me with a smirking, superior grin.
"A lesbian? I-I'm not a lesbian, I just thought you might like to catch dinner after work." I tried, and my lies sounded painfully transparent.
"Riiiiight. You're not a lesbian. And you haven't been checking me out every minute since I got here. Let's just see about that." She said, and then she began unbuttoning her blouse!
I should have said something then, should have somehow found the strength to order her out of my office right at that moment, but I didn't. I didn't do anything, didn't move, didn't speak, didn't even breathe. Her elegant fingers popped the buttons one after another, and the exposed strip of creamy young skin grew larger by the moment. The sight of her bra and the barely restrained swollen curves of her breasts where they pressed together mesmerized me as if I'd been hypnotized. When she slowly pulled the sides of her shirt apart, I think I actually gasped out loud at the sight before me. Hillary held her shirt open for a few seconds, and that superior grin of hers never left her face.
"I think that settles that, now doesn't it?" She asked as she pulled the sides of her shirt back together and blocked my view.
I think I may have nodded then, unconsciously acknowledging the accuracy of her words.
"Alright, but why have you been teasing me if you aren't... like me?" I asked her, my shame turning to indignation.
"Because it amuses me. And because I might just be interested in a relationship with you anyway."
"I-I don't understand."
"Well, it's like this. I believe that some people are just meant to be dominant, and some people are just meant to be submissive. I am one of those naturally dominant people. I'm beautiful, and I know it. And I like the power that gives me over some people. Submissive people like *you*."
"Submissive? I don't know what you're talking about Hillary. I-I think you should go now." I managed to tell her.
She didn't move, in fact she didn't even seem to hear me at all.
"The only chance you ever have to get into my pants is to make me happy by doing what I say. It's really pretty simple. For example, what if I told you I'd let you see my bare tits if you just did one simple thing for me?" She asked, and she let me get a brief view of her chest again as she said it.
"What thing." I said with a gulp.
"Stand up and come over here and I'll tell you." She told me.
I'm not sure if I even wanted to get out of that chair, it felt like I was lifted by a magnetic force I couldn't resist. It was like being in a dream, I almost floated in front of her it was so surreal. I was so close to her now, just inches separated us. Her shirt fell open as she let go of it and softly rested her hands on my shoulders. She began to exert a gentle force on me then, pushing me downward.
"Kneel." She told me softly but forcefully.
"Hillary... I..." I began, but she only pushed harder and spoke that word again.
"*Kneel.*"
I sank to my knees in shock, shock that a teenage girl could turn my spine to jelly this way. Shocked that part of me loved every moment of being forced to kneel at her feet. Once I was on my knees and settled, Hillary stepped back and pulled her shirt all the way open.
"Very good. Now here is your reward." She told me, and then she pulled the bra up and off the soft mounds of flesh, allowing their heavy dangling weight to hang freely before my eyes.
I stared at the feminine glory before me with a hunger I'd never felt before. She was so beautiful it hurt to look at her, as if I was staring at the sun. But I couldn't stop, those soft creamy globes of flesh had control of me as surely as a puppeteer's strings guide a puppet.
"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Her voice broke into my reverie and shocked me back to reality.
I was still speechless, and Hillary chuckled as she nestled her breasts back into the large cups of her bra. She continued the little mocking laughs as she did up her shirt, until she was standing over me with her hands on her hips.
"If you want to get what you're so desperate to have, there's only one thing you have to do. Whatever I say. But there are two little rules you have to remember. One: I like it when my toys address me respectfully. In private, from now on, you're going to call me mistress. Two: I do not tolerate masturbation or sex from my toys. From now on, the only time you can climax is when I give you permission. Do you understand?" She asked me.
She must be crazy if she thought I was going to start calling a teenage girl mistress and agree to not have sex without her permission, right? There was no way a confident, respectable attorney like I was would ever agree to such a thing, right? Wrong.
"Yes." I heard that weak little voice again, almost as if I hadn't said it at all.
"Yes what?" She demanded.
"Yes mistress."
"Good girl. Now get up and get back to work. I'm tired from all this excitement. I think I'll take the rest of the day off." She said, and she obviously wasn't asking my permission, then she grabbed the file off my desk, turned on her heel, and was gone out the door.
I stayed on my knees in shock for a long time. When I finally got up and sat back down at my desk, there was no chance I was going to get any work done. My thoughts raced and I couldn't think of anything but *her*.
* * * * * * * * * *
She did leave too. I got myself the right file when I finally felt brave enough to look into my outer office and see that she was gone.
I stayed in my office all afternoon; afraid that my weakness would somehow be visible to anyone I talked to. As if they'd somehow know what I'd done.
The day passed unbelievably slowly. I just sat there thinking of Hillary and what she'd made me do. I was so turned on it felt like my crotch was on fire. When she'd taken charge of me in that moment, it had fiercely affected something inside of me. I'd never been so aroused in my entire life. But at the same time, it terrified me. How could I have done something so stupid? I could lose my job. I could ruin my career. I wasn't sure if it had been the best day of my life, or the worst, but it was definitely the most exciting.
When I got home that night, I was so excited by the thoughts I'd had of Hillary all day that I found myself masturbating almost immediately. I imagined myself on my knees looking up at her, looking up at her beautiful body and arrogant grinning face, and it made me *so* hot. And then something bizarre happened. Kneeling there dreaming of obeying her as I pleased myself with my fingers, I realized that I had to stop. I had to obey her order not to masturbate. As I did it, I felt a perverse submissive thrill at the idea that she was controlling me even then. What had she done to me?
* * * * * * * * * *
The next morning, Wednesday morning, I had no idea what was going to happen when Hillary came in. I was eager, but frightened more than a little frightened as well. I arrived earlier than she did, as was my usual routine. I made myself a coffee and looked over the morning paper as I settled in to wait for her.
Her appointed starting time came and went, and I started to worry. What if she'd quit, or made a human resources complaint against me? But at 10:15 she finally walked in and sat down. She started work as if nothing unusual had happened and didn't even say 'good morning' to me. I called her into my office and she didn't show any signs of apologizing for her tardiness.
"Good morning," I said as she closed the door behind her.
"Good morning what?" She challenged me immediately, and I crumbled at the sight of her.
"Good morning, mistress."
"That's better. Now, what did you want?"
"I was just... wondering where you were this morning, mistress." I said.
"I was tired, so I slept in a little. Do you have a problem with that?"
"No, mistress."
She looked at the coffee on my desk and then back to me.
"I think a coffee will help wake me up. Go fix me one, and when you get back I'll give you a little reward." She suggested.
"You-you want a coffee?"
"Don't act stupid, slut. Get up, go fix me a coffee, and then bring it back here to me."
"Yes, mistress." I managed, and I was doing it. I scurried by her and made my way out of the outer office and down the hall to the coffee station.
Not quite believing I was really doing it, fetching coffee for my secretary as if I was *her* secretary, I made it ready and hurried back.
When I got back to my inner office and closed the door behind me, I turned to find Hillary sitting in my chair. I carried the coffee to her and sat it on my desk as she watched amusedly.
"Thank you. Now would you like your reward?" She asked me with a thousand-watt smile.
Not even knowing what she had in mind, my servile inner demons squealed in delight. My pulse quickened and my crotch heated up noticeably.
"Yes, mistress."
She took a sip of the coffee, and then she opened the newspaper I'd been reading that morning.
"Come around here," She said, gesturing for me to move to her side of the desk.
"Look at my foot, Janeen."Tell me, what do you think of it?" She said, stretching one long beautiful leg towards me a little.
I looked at her offered foot, and the red high-heeled shoe she wore, and I sucked in my breath a little.
"It's beautiful, mistress." I said, and every time I said that word it just made me feel hotter and more submissive. It was awful, but I loved it.
"Have you ever kissed a teenage girl's feet before Janeen?"
"No, mistress."
"But you'd like to, wouldn't you?"
"Yes, mistress."
"Fine. You may go ahead and kiss my foot. Go on, get down on your knees and get to it." She told me.
"Yes, mistress." I replied, and it was like I was in some kind of submissive trance. I sank down to my knees in front of her and I barely even realized where I was or what I was doing. All I could think about was obeying her, and the kinky joy that coursed through me whenever I did.
I spent the next ten minutes kissing her foot, while she drank her coffee and read the paper. She didn't say anything to me the entire time. I'm not sure if she even looked down at me. And then she was pushing me away and standing up.
"Alright, that's enough for today. Get back to work." She told me, and then she actually patted me on the head!
"Yes, mistress." I answered, and I was so ashamed to be . . . *me*.
And then she was gone and I tried to return to normal life, tried to ignore the urge to just masturbate right there in my office.
Once again, after the perverse joy of what I'd done wore off I turned back to self-loathing. What was I doing? I'd made her coffee and then kissed her feet as if it were a completely normal thing for a boss to do for a subordinate. Things were going too far.
After lunch I sat there in my office going over my options. As much as I loved the way it had felt to be ordered around by this beautiful girl, I had to somehow regain control of my life. I decided that I was going to talk with Hillary first thing in the morning and tell her that we couldn't work together anymore. I was going to have to get another secretary. If she threatened to make trouble for me with what I'd done I'd just point out to her that nobody would believe the word of a nineteen year-old temp over mine.
If she was still willing to keep up our other perverse relationship, I would gladly meet her whenever and wherever she wanted outside of work. As much as I enjoyed it, maybe I would even pay her.
I knew things had gone too far. For my own sanity's sake I had to do put a stop to my new relationship with Hillary. I sat there trying to build up my confidence to put my foot down, and when I finally did I went out into the other office and she wasn't even there. She'd left early without even telling me!
It angered me that she thought her hold over me was so great that she could just come and go as she pleased. She had come in after ten and left before three! The next morning was going to be a rude awakening for her, I thought to myself.
The morning didn't go exactly as I'd planned. I called Hillary into my office when she came in. I didn't have to tell her to close the door behind her. She was wearing white nylons and a cute little blue dress that was a touch too racy for the office, showing off her curves a little too flamboyantly. All the confidence I'd built up in my 'fire Hillary' plan crumbled as she walked confidently over to my desk.
"Good morning, boss. Now get out of my chair. You can kneel there." She told me, pointing to a spot on the floor.
There was no way I was going to take that from this upstart girl, right? In my own office? No way. Those were the thoughts that silently echoed in my head as I stood up and moved out of her way. Hillary smiled broadly as she sat down in my big leather chair and crossed her legs.
"You've seen me topless, now it's your turn. If you want to be my toy you're going to have to show me the merchandise, Janeen." She told me, leaning back comfortably in my chair then.
Where was my strength? Why was it so damn hard to resist her? I had to though, I couldn't let things go any farther.
"Hillary-I, I can't do this."
"Yes, yes you can. First, because you know you want to do what I say. And second, because if you do I'm going to make your queer little dreams come true-I'm going to let you touch my ass. But you aren't going to touch anything if you don't remember the rules. Now, what do you call me in private?" She demanded.
Visions of my fingertips sinking into the soft curves of her bottom filled my thoughts. The battle within me was short, and the weak part of me conquered the strong part decisively.
"Mistress," I breathed.
She smiled a smile that would have made the Cheshire cat jealous. My palms were clammy and I felt weak in the knees.
"Good girl. Now take off that shirt."
My fingers moved to unbutton my blouse as if on their own. When my shirt opened, exposing my bra, Hillary laughed out loud.
"Is that a padded bra? Pull it down and let me see your little titties," She laughed.
Humiliated by her words, my face flushed. I just nodded my head as I did what she wanted and pulled my Wonderbra down. For my frame, at my height, my breasts were just the right size at 32A. But I liked the little bit of additional curviness the padded bra gave me so I wore it.
"God, you look like a little boy or something. Look at you! Ha ha aha. Now put your little mosquito bumps away before you make me laugh myself silly. The padded bra is a waste of time anyway, nobody's going to mistake you for a woman. So from now on, no more padded bras," She told me.
I'd always thought I looked pretty good. I'd always been fit and trim. But the way Hillary talked about my body humiliated me to my core. Looking at her ultra-feminine body, so curvy and perfect, just made me feel even more ashamed of myself. I couldn't even meet her superior gaze, I just kept my head bowed as I said the nasty words that made me feel *so* good.
"Yes, mistress."
"And who do you think you're fooling with the heels? No more heels either, mighty-mouse."
"Yes, mistress."
"Now I guess it's time for your reward. I know this is going to be the highlight of your pathetic little life. I am going to let you touch this." She told me, turning and lifting her dress to expose her pantyhose-covered bottom to my eyes.
"Yes, mistress!" I exclaimed, mesmerized by the gorgeous sight.
The incredible sight of the nylon-encased curves of her buttocks drew me to her like a moth to a flame. I began to rise and move towards her, when she looked down at me with sudden anger on her face.
"What are you doing?" Hillary asked me angrily.
"Mistress?" I said in confusion.
"Did you really think I'd let your filthy lesbian hands touch my ass? Show some respect! I don't want to feel any part of you other than your lips touching me, do you understand? Now get back down on your knees and *kiss* *my* *ass*." She ordered cruelly, and my pussy spasmed below me at her dominant tirade.
"Yes, mistress," I mumbled humbly as I fell back to my knees.
Hillary turned completely away from me, still holding her dress up over her beautiful rump. She looked back at me over her shoulder as I carefully approached her bottom and pressed my lips to the soft curve of her right buttock. Oh how I wanted to bury my face in her bottom and feel its soft glory. How I longed to kiss all over her hot young body. But the electric sensation of my lips actually touching this teenage goddess's ass ended all too soon as she pulled away from me almost immediately.
"You stupid girl, look what you've done!" Hillary cried at me, staring down at her bottom.
I looked where she was staring and saw that I'd left a perfect lipstick kiss mark right there on her buttock. On the white pantyhose the mark was glaringly visible.
"I'm sorry, mistress," I muttered.
"That's another thing. No more make-up. And no more skirts or dresses while you're at it. I want you to look like the filthy little girl-boy you are. Now before I let you get back to work, aren't you forgetting something?"
"Mistress?"
"Where are your manners, slut? Aren't you going to thank me for letting you kiss my ass?"
"Thank you, mistress."
When I returned from lunch that day after my failed attempt to fire her, there was a strange woman in my office. She was quite pretty, young, slender and attractive.
"Hello," I said to the woman uncertainly.
"This is Karen. She's Mr. Franken's secretary," Hillary informed me.
Franken was one of the company's many vice-presidents. I had no idea why his secretary was in my outer office.
"Karen is a friend of mine," Hillary explained.
"That's nice. Janeen White. It's nice to meet you," I said, extending my hand.
The woman shook my hand and then she looked me slowly up and down. I had a sinking feeling that only got worse when she spoke.
"Alright, Hill, let's see her do it," She said, looking away from me and back at Hillary who was rising from her desk.
I looked at Hillary then, and I'm sure the terror I felt must have been obvious.
"Relax, Karen is an old friend. In fact, it was Karen who got me my first temp position downstairs. Besides, she's one of your people."
"My people?"
"You know, she's ummm... not into guys if you know what I mean."
"Hill!" The other woman exclaimed.
"Oh, be quiet both of you. Karen and I have a little bet that we'd like you to help us settle. Let's all go in your office where it's a little more private," Hillary said.
Once we were all inside my office and the door was closed safely behind us, I felt at least a tiny bit safer."I was telling Karen how I'd figured out you were a submissive little lezzy, and she didn't believe me. She thought I was making it all up, even after I showed her *this*," Hillary said, lifting her dress to expose the mark I'd left earlier when I kissed her there.
"I told Karen you'd do it again any time I wanted. I bet her that I could make you do it in front of her. I bet her that if I couldn't, I'd go down on her, and if I could, she'd go down on me. I think she only took the bet because she wants to lose anyway," Hillary bragged, giving the other girl a wicked grin.
"You're awful," Karen said, but she didn't deny it.
"Now it's time for you to win me some lesbian head," Hillary ordered, and then her hands were on my shoulders, pushing me down.
I sank silently to my knees, in shock once more. I felt so helpless and it shamed me, shamed me that I couldn't resist this beautiful teenage goddess - not even in front of other people. When Hillary turned around and lifted her dress, the white-encased expanse of her luscious ass filled my view. I didn't need any instructions. I leaned forward and kissed her there with my eyes closed to avoid the sight of both of them staring down at me. My crotch was on fire, a fire that only burned hotter when she pushed me away, laughing at my pathetic act of supplication.
"Oh my god. You really weren't making this shit up. Damn!"
"It's a gift. I've always been able to just feel it when I'm around someone who just needs a little control from a beautiful woman."
"I can't believe it. Your boss is your *bitch*. Wow!"
"You know, Karen, I think she's not the only lesbian in the room who needs a guiding hand. Are you sure you aren't a little jealous of her?"
"Hill!"
"Don't `Hill!' me. You want me too. And you're about to have me. You lost, now pay up," Hillary demanded.
"*Here*? Are you crazy? I can't believe I made that crazy bet. I have to get back to my desk. And what about . . ." Her words trailed off, and she looked over at me.
"Her? Don't worry about her. She'll do whatever I say. Won't you, Janeen?"
I just nodded.
"Say it," she said sternly.
I knew what she wanted from me, but I couldn't. Not in front of another woman. There was no way I was going to sink that low. And then I made the mistake of looking into Hillary's beautiful glaring eyes, and my resistance melted like butter.
"Yes, mistress," I said, and the other woman laughed.
"My god, you really do have her trained," Karen laughed.
"How long do you have?" Hillary ignored Karen's comment.
"Franken won't be out of the meeting for another hour at least. But I need to be there for the phone."
"Well then, you'd better just do a good job then, shouldn't you? The better you are, the faster you'll be back at your desk," Hillary laughed, and then she kicked off her shoes and pulled down her pantyhose!
"Alright. But I can't believe I'm doing this," Karen replied, and I watched in stunned silence.
Hillary pulled down her panties and set them aside before sitting down in my chair and rolling it a few feet back from my desk. From where I was standing, I couldn't see her bottom half, but just the knowledge that she was naked from the waist down drove me nuts. Karen moved around the desk and slowly sank down in front of Hillary, and I was totally in shock. Hillary looked over at me then, and her face contorted.
"What do you think you are doing? Do you think I'm going to just let you stand there and watch? Get out!" She told me.
"But mistress . . . this is my office . . . where will I go?"
"Go sit at my desk," she ordered.
The girl's brunette head went lower and lower until I could only see the top of it over my desk. Hillary gave a little sigh as the girl's head started to rhythmically move up and down!
"But I can't sit there . . ." I began.
"Yes, you can, you stupid little monkey. Just shut up and get out there! And don't listen at the door either, I want you sitting at my desk," she ordered, cutting through my objection.
"Yes, mistress," I heard the little voice that was mine say.
"You'd better watch out, Karen. Once you've tasted pussy this good, you'll be begging to be just like her," I heard Hillary brag as I closed the door and shut off my view of the hottest thing I'd ever seen in my life.
I felt so stupid sitting at her little workstation like I was *her* secretary. And even worse, I didn't have to listen by the door to hear her. After a few minutes, I began to catch the softly muffled sound of her moans.
I sat there and just fumed. As awful as being humiliated in front of another woman had been, that wasn't the worst of it. The worst thing was sitting there listening to that other woman getting her off and feeling so jealous that my stomach burned with acid. *I* wanted to be the one on my knees in that office worshiping Hillary. It was me that had done all the humiliating things that she asked, and yet this other woman got what I wanted.
It went on and on, for nearly twenty minutes. I heard the muffled cries grow more and more insistent, and then finally, there was silence. A few minutes later, the door to my office opened, and Karen and Hillary emerged. I looked at Karen and never would have been able to tell what she'd been doing in there. She must have fixed her hair and makeup afterwards; she looked completely composed as she hurried to the door. Karen gave me a last curious look and then she actually winked at me before she exited the office, leaving me alone with Hillary again.
"Now *that* is how you relieve stress," Hillary said with a sigh.
Where I couldn't see any difference in Karen, it was totally obvious on Hillary. Her face looked flushed and pink, and she was still breathing a little heavily.
"I left you a little present. Go on, take it while I'm in a good mood," she told me, gesturing to my office with a lazy wave.
She settled down at her desk after I stood up, and she leaned back in her chair with an exaggerated looseness evident in her posture. She smiled at me as I scurried back to my office to find my `gift'.
I looked at my desk and didn't see anything as I walked up. My nose picked up the smell of sex almost immediately though, the smell of Hillary's joyous twenty minutes of passion. When I got around behind my desk, I saw it and knew immediately what she expected of me. On the front part of the seat of my expensive leather chair was a small streak of shiny wetness.
Hating myself for being weak, for being so hopeless to resist her feminine mastery of my soul, I sank to my knees and began lapping up Hillary's juices. The taste of *her* on my tongue drove me insane. The humiliating submission of what I was doing, combined with the incredibly erotic taste and smell of my dream girl, combined to drive me wild. I licked and sucked every bit of her gift off the chair, and I have to admit that I loved every second of it.
* * * * * * * * * *
Once more Hillary took the rest of the day off after having exerted her erotic hold over me. I suffered the extra work gladly, my brain afire with thoughts of the perverse glory of what she'd done to Karen and me. I couldn't believe she had an orgasm right there in my office--while I was sitting outside! It was so hot, so insane, it just drove me wild.
It wasn't until I finally dragged myself off my knees and tried to compose myself enough to work that the shame really set in though. What I'd done was so perverse, so kinky, I couldn't believe how quickly Hillary had reduced me to debasing myself like that. And now she wasn't the only person at the company that knew my secret. What if Karen told someone what Hillary had made me do? I'd kissed Hillary's ass in front of her--what on earth had I been thinking? What if Hillary told someone else? If anything happened, I'd see my career flushed down the toilet, and for what? For the chance to do whatever amused a beautiful teenage girl. I must be crazy, but I couldn't resist the pull I felt to submit to her.
* * * * * * * * * *
As much as I was worried about what she'd do next, when nothing much happened the next day, I was a little bit disappointed. Seeing Hillary all day made my heart beat madly in my chest, but she just did her work like nothing had ever happened. The closest thing I had to another experience with her was when she came into my office in the morning to remind me I had an eleven o'clock meeting.
"Don't forget you have a meeting with the HR director at eleven," she told me.
Just being alone in the room with her made my blood boil with submissive lesbian lust.
"Yes, mistress," I responded immediately.
Hillary just smiled at me, obviously amused, and then she was gone.
That little moment was the closest thing to anything unusual that happened all day.
* * * * * * * * * *
The weekend, and then two more days passed like that, and it was driving me nuts. I sat there at my desk every day wondering why she didn't just walk in there and dominate me. Didn't she know she had me so in lust for her beautiful body that I would do anything? Over time I actually started to grow angry at her. What was she doing to me? She'd given me the hottest experiences of my life, two days in a row, and now it was as if nothing had ever happened.
I know it doesn't make any sense. I was afraid of giving in to her, of the effect it could have on my job, and especially of the way it made me feel. But I also *needed* it.
I called her into my office as soon as she came in. She stepped inside, and then turned to regard me with eyebrows raised.
"Hillary, is something wrong?" I asked her.
"What do you mean?" She asked me coolly.
I wasn't sure how to steer a conversation into this particular area at all.
"Have I done something to anger you, mistress?" I tried."Oh, I see. My little *worthless* . . . " She began, emphasizing the words forcefully as she stepped closer and closer to me. ". . . *useless* . . . *idiotic* . . . *ugly* . . . *lesbian* boss feels the need to be put in her place." She said, and when she finished she stood right next to me, towering above me as she glared down into my wilting face.
"Yes, mistress."
"Let's get some business out of the way first, Janeen." She said, and then she dropped the sheet of paper she was carrying onto my desk.
"This is my timesheet. It was due yesterday, but I forgot to fill it out. You have to sign it." She told me.
I looked at it, and it was blank.
"You haven't listed your hours, Hillary . . . mistress." I corrected myself.
"No, I haven't. Because I don't feel like filling out the form at all. You're going to. And you've been working me very hard, haven't you, Janeen? I think ten hours a day will do alright. You can turn it in when you're done filling it out and signing it." She ordered me.
Ten hours? She'd worked seven on her longest day, and less than four on several!
"Yes, mistress."
"I've decided to give you a very special gift tomorrow. A gift you certainly don't deserve, but one that you'll *love*. As a result, I'm going to have to take a little time off today to get it ready."
Which probably meant she was going to take the whole day off.
"Yes, mistress."
"Are you excited about the idea of getting a special gift from me, Janeen?"
"Yes, mistress."
"You know, we need a better name for you. Janeen is too grown-up for someone as pathetic as you. Did you ever have a nickname when you were growing up?"
"Neenee. When I was small, people called me Neenee, mistress." I admitted to her.
"Neenee . . . hmmm. That will do just fine. Everyone thinks you're this grown-up powerful lawyer, but I know the truth about you, Neenee. I know that you're just a pathetic, worthless little lesbian slut. And I'm right, aren't I, Neenee?"
"Yes, mistress."
"Say it. Admit what you are."
I looked up at her confident stare, at the beautiful face that could make me do anything, and then I was lost in that obedient funk that came over me when I was around her.
"I'm a worthless, pathetic lesbian slut, mistress." I said, my face flushing hotter than ever, even as another part of me grew hotter than ever as well.
She gave a little snicker at the sight of me, and then just like that she was gone.
* * * * * * * * * *
She did take the rest of the day off. After I filled in her timesheet of ten-hour days and turned it in, I sat there at my desk daydreaming about her and wondering what my 'special gift' could possibly be.
The day passed slowly indeed.
* * * * * * * * * *
She walked in carrying something red and black in her hand. She closed the door behind her and turned to face me. She moved over beside my desk and then she pointed to the floor next to my chair.
"Get out of my chair." She told me simply.
I dropped what I was working on and got on my knees. She brushed past me and sat down in my chair.
"Today is your lucky day, Neenee. You're about to get closer to my beautiful body than you've ever been before." She told me as she sat down in my chair.
"Yes, mistress." I answered, my excitement threatening to make my heart burst out of my chest. Was she saying what I thought she was?
"I am going to have an orgasm on your face. But first, let's put this on you." She said, releasing her hand's grip enough to let a red rubber ball tumble from it where it swung dangling from a black rubber strap running through its center.
It was one of those ball-gag things. Leaning forward in my big chair, Hillary stretched the rubber ring of the ball-gag over my head and moved it down into place.
"There, that's better. I wouldn't want you trying to steal a taste of my beautiful pussy-you don't deserve it. It was a mistake letting you have a taste when Karen was here-you weren't ready yet."
The ball-gag kept my mouth painfully wide open. It made me feel even more helpless before her power as I wondered what she planned. I couldn't believe I was kneeling and gagged in my own office, waiting for Hillary's command. My pussy was on fire below me, and I was thrilled beyond words by thoughts of what was to come. When Hillary slowly hiked up her skirt and exposed her beautiful satiny red panties to me, I almost came right there on my knees from being so close to her glorious mound. She slowly spread her legs open, and my eyes were glued to the area covered by the tiny bit of shiny red cloth.
"Come closer." She ordered, gesturing for me to move between her legs.
I shuffled into position and my face was only inches away from heaven. Hillary reached down and roughly grabbed my hair, shaking me from my little bout of lesbian reverie. She pulled my head back roughly so that I was forced to look up at her.
"I'm going to use you. Use your worthless little face as hard and fast as I want. And you're going to let me, aren't you? You're going to let me fuck your little face right off if I want to, because you want me that bad. Because I'm so fucking hot you can't resist me. Isn't that right, slave?" She demanded, and I nodded my head as best I could.
She brought her other hand down into my hair then both of her hands were pulling my face forward. She carefully positioned my nose at the tiny crease in the shiny red mound before me and my lungs were treated with the scent of her divine womanhood. Slowly and gently at first, she rocked my head back and forth, rubbing my nose and mouth into her mound. Gradually she picked up speed, continuing to verbally abuse me as she did it. I was in heaven, my nose being rubbed into the panty-covered mound that dominated my whole existence. Her nasty verbal torrent only made the experience that much more degrading and arousing to me.
"That's it, you worthless little dyke-boy. Oh yeah, I bet you're loving this. Being so close to a real woman's sexy pussy. Having your little nose just rubbed right in it."
Hillary gradually picked up the speed and force with which she pulled my face against her, and as she did so I started having a hard time catching my breath. With the ball-gag filling my mouth, every rapturous moment my nose was buried in her mound was also a moment without oxygen.
"Mmmm, this feels pretty good. As long as I don't look too much at your nasty little face, this will work just fine. Oh yeah. That's it, get in there! Sniff it! Smell that, that's the finest pussy you're ever going to sniff. Oh yeah . . . mmmmmm." She moaned as she worked my face against her.
She was right, the smell of it was glorious--and I loved it. She kept up like that for what seemed like forever, rubbing my face in her pantied quim while she verbally abused me. The cloth separating me from her sex grew first moist, then slick with her juices as she continued to use me as a masturbation aid. She started to really mash my face against her. Her hips started to move in the chair as she pulled my face into her twat, humping forward to increase the friction between us. My nose felt like it was getting rubbed right off my face, and my teeth ached from the damn gag, but I loved every moment of it.
"Oh fuck yeah. Oh god I'm fucking your nasty dyke face. Mmmm . . . . oh . . . oh yeah. Smell that! Smell that you worthless fucking lesbian slut! Oh fuck . . . oh . . . oh . . . oh . . . oh . . oh . oh ohohOHOHOHHHHHHHH!" She cried, and her thighs clamped shut around my face as she came.
Her whole body seemed to convulse around me, her hips thrusting forward and her thighs clamping down so hard it felt like my head would burst. And in that moment, on my knees gagged and smothering, *buried* in the embrace of Hillary's beautiful body, I would have done anything to stay there forever. I couldn't breathe, my face felt as if it had been rubbed raw, but I was *immersed* in the sound, smell, and feel of her divine female glory and I needed it more than anything I'd ever needed before.
"Mmmm. That was nice." She said as she finally released her thighs and pushed me away.
She looked down at me and gave a little laugh then.
"Your face is all red. And look what you've made me do to these panties." She said, gesturing down to the giant wet stain on her crotch.
My face felt pretty bad, but all I could think about was that wonderful place I'd just been.
"You can take that off now. Keep it with you at all times, you never know when I might need it again." She told me, referring to the ball-gag.
I pulled the gag out of my aching mouth while she straightened her clothes and sat upright.
"Now I think you should thank me for using you." Hillary told me.
"Thank you, mistress."
"I'm tired now. I think I'll take the rest of the day off." She told me as she stood up and moved to the door of my office.
"Yes, mistress."
"And Neenee?"
"Yes, mistress?"
"Don't even think about touching yourself, you dirty little slut." She ordered and then she was gone.
* * * * * * * * * *
Once again, Hillary drove me crazy with need by doing . . . nothing. After taking me to a new height of submissive delight the day before, the day I'd felt her feminine glory literally rubbed in my face, the next day she didn't do anything to me at all.
She didn't do anything to me the entire rest of the week. She was diabolically clever, really. My need to feel her power grew even stronger when she stopped using me. She was driving me wild by showing me how wonderful slavery could be and then taking it away from me again. I was in a state of constant longing, longing to be *used* by her.
* * * * * * * * * *
The next Monday morning, Hillary came into my office carrying a plastic grocery store bag.She set the plastic bag on my desk and looked at me.
"Today you're going to do a little chore for me. I've brought some of my dirty laundry with me. I expect you to wash it for me today," she said with that playful smirk of hers.
I looked inside the bag. There were a half dozen pairs of worn women's underwear in the bag. I must not have reacted quickly enough to the discovery, because Hillary suddenly showed surprise.
"What, don't you understand Neenee? I'm going to let you use your worthless little mouth to clean my underwear. You're going spend the whole day sucking the cunt-stains, and any *other* stains, out of my panties. Do you have a problem with that? Because if you don't appreciate my gift, I will take it back," she said, reaching for the bag as she said it.
"No, mistress," I quickly answered, my crotch afire as she exerted her perverse control over me yet again.
How did Hillary know how to demean me so perfectly? How did she know I couldn't resist her? I was helpless to deny her power now, as I sat there staring at her panties, knowing that I *did* desperately want to sniff and lick them.
"Now you listen to me, Neenee. When you taste the heavenly flavors of my beautiful feminine body, it's going to drive you wild with lust. It's going to make you burn with need. Even just the aroma of my beautiful pussy melts your brain and puts you deeper under my feminine power. It will be hard for you to resist the urges you feel. I know this, Neenee. But remember, if I catch you so much as thinking about touching yourself without my permission, I will never let you worship me again. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, mistress."
"I expect you to wash every pair with your pathetic lesbian drool. When I take them back this afternoon, I'd better find every inch of them clean. Let me help you get started. Get over here and get down on your knees," she ordered, pointing to the floor in front of my desk.
I scurried in front of her and sank to my knees. Hillary reached into the bag and withdrew a red silky pair of panties. I recognized them immediately.
"This is a good pair right here. Do you remember these? You should, I was wearing these when I came in your face the other day. Just look at them, all crusty and stained," she told me, turning the crinkly stained crotch inside out so that I could see it.
"Isn't that a nasty stain, Neenee? Stick out your tongue," she ordered me.
I extended my tongue as far as I could, my face already heating up with the hot rush of perversely arousing shame that came over me. Hillary slowly brought the cloth to my tongue, and then she pressed the spot down onto my tongue and smeared it around. The smell and taste of her was intense, and my crotch burned with perverse submissive arousal. I wriggled in place and closed my eyes to concentrate fully on that flavor.
"Taste that, Neenee. That's the taste of a real woman's pussy. That's the taste of my power over you. You can't deny it. How does that taste make you feel, Neenee?" she asked me, pulling those red panties away from my mouth as she spoke.
I felt an almost physical pain when my tongue lost contact with that heavenly cloth. I opened my eyes and told Hillary the complete humiliating truth.
"Mistress, it makes me feel hot. And weak. And... submissive," I admitted.
Hillary tossed the red panties at me and gave me a condescending smirk.
"Of course it does. Now get to work, show me you can at least be useful to clean my laundry," she laughed.
I grabbed up the bit of cloth and began licking and sucking at it while she watched, eager to impress her with my obedience. Other than a small grin, she barely seemed to notice my act of devotion, and she turned and walked to the door. She stopped at the door and turned to look back at me, still kneeling there.
"Pathetic. All that education, college, law school, everything, and you end up here on your knees sucking on my dirty panties like it's the greatest gift you've ever received. And it *is* the greatest gift you've ever received, isn't it? All because deep down inside you know the truth about the two of us. You know that you're a worthless nothing, and that I am a *goddess*," she laughed, and then she was gone.
It was wonderful and awful all at once. I knelt there licking and sucking at the glorious taste and smell of her body, and it made me so hot that I could barely take it. My pussy was on *fire*. I was worthless. I was stupid. I *did* need to worship her. It was a struggle to keep from touching myself as I gave myself totally to the task at hand.
No matter how much of a pervert I was, I couldn't actually spend the entire day sucking her panties, could I? Yes, I could, and did. I didn't even try to do any work. I spent the whole time licking and sucking those bits of cloth that had nestled against heaven on earth. The cloth that carried her scent and taste and drove me insane with need. Time passed without my realizing it--I was in some sort of submissive trance as I immersed myself in the pathetic act of worship. Hours passed like minutes as I licked and sucked and sniffed every inch of her panties. Oh, how I longed to taste her directly, to kneel before her and dip my tongue into that font of supreme feminine power that lived between her beautiful legs.
When Hillary finally opened the door to my office late that afternoon, I was sitting in my chair still licking a pair of her sodden underwear. I quickly returned the panties I held to the rest of the pile atop my desk.
"I see you're enjoying my gift. Are my panties all clean now?" she asked me.
"Yes, mistress!" I said, still breathing heavy with my excitement.
"Hmmmm. It seems you may have enjoyed my gift more than you're allowed to. Stand up," she ordered me.
"Yes, mistress," I answered, standing quickly up.
"Undo your pants and pull them down."
I did as I was told, letting my pants pool around my ankles. Hillary gave me a push backward, and I sat abruptly back down in the chair. The wet stain on the front of my panties was painfully obvious as I sat there looking up at my young goddess.
"Just as I suspected. Have you been masturbating, Neenee? What did I tell you about that?"
"No, mistress! I swear, I'm just excited from... doing your laundry. I-I'm sorry, mistress."
"You expect me to believe that you were so turned on by sucking on my panties that your disgusting little boy-twat leaked this much? I don't think so. I think you were in here touching your filthy slit while you thought about me-*disgusting*," she said.
"Mistress, I swear I didn't."
"You'd better not have. So, you really were that turned on by licking my nasty dirty underwear?"
"Yes, mistress," I admitted.
"Say it, I want to hear you say what got you this turned on."
"Mistress, I got this turned on by licking your dirty underwear. I got this turned on by being your panty-sniffing slave girl," I said, and for the first time since she'd come into my office, Hillary smiled.
"Alright then. But we still can't leave you like this, can we? Get those filthy panties off. And use them to wipe your filthy little boy-twat," she told me.
I wriggled out of my panties and used them to wipe myself while she watched, standing tall over me.
"Now, whatever will we do with a nasty pair of dirty panties? I know, why don't we have our resident panty-sucker clean them. Do it, Neenee. Suck your filthy slime off of them for me," she demanded.
Reluctantly, I brought the panties up to my face and looked at the large wet stain at their crotch. I forced myself to suck the wet spot into my mouth and began cleaning it while Hillary watched. The taste and smell of my own secretions weren't just less appealing than Hillary's, they were disgusting. How could even her pussy taste and smell so much better than mine? She was superior to me in every way, so much so that it was her divine right to be worshiped.
"Look at you. You're a filthy pervert who loves pussy so much that she'll even suck her own nasty panties! You really are a worthless, pathetic, little lesbian piece of shit, aren't you?"
"Yes, mistress," I answered, and she laughed as she left me there, sucking my own panties.
I wasn't sure what to expect the next day. Licking her panties all day long, falling into that submissive trance of worship, the experience had been so powerful that it scared me. I found I was more than a little frightened of Hillary's hold over me. She was all I could think about night and day, my perverse need to submit to her threatened to consume me with its power. I felt like I was losing myself, and I could see it happening, and yet I was helpless to stop it. Ever time I saw her, I needed her more, and every time I gave in to her orders, it made me feel hotter and weaker than the last.
So when Hillary dropped the bomb on me that afternoon, I didn't have a chance really.
"I've decided that I'm going to move into your house. It's the only way I can ensure you're not touching your filthy slit when you're away from this place," she told me.
The thought of being around Hillary twenty-four hours a day thrilled me. It made me want to do a celebration dance, it excited me so much.
"Yes, mistress," I beamed, and she just shook her head at me.
"Give me the key. I'm going to go pick up some of my things. I trust you'll do what's necessary to make me feel at home."
"*Yes*, mistress," I blurted as I dug out my keys and pulled my house key from the ring.
"You can start by bringing something home for dinner. Surprise me," she told me as she picked up her purse and headed for the door.
"Yes, mistress."
I was so excited I could barely stand it.With what Hillary had already done to me at work, my perverse mind raced with ideas of what Hillary could do to me in a private place. I daydreamed about it for an hour before I set to work on my first big after-hours chore. She'd told me to get her dinner, and I had no intention of screwing it up.
I knew a lovely Italian restaurant that would let you order take-out meals, pricey but really good food. I ordered two of their best pasta dishes, one with a chicken breast and the other with seafood. I felt confident that Hillary would surely like one or the other.
I picked up the food on the way home and exceeded the speed limit at every opportunity. I couldn't wait to see my beautiful mistress outside of work for the first time ever.
I walked in the door and found two suitcases standing nearby against the wall. Hillary was on my couch watching television, looking gloriously hot in skimpy shorts and a t-shirt.
"Hello, mistress. I brought two dinners from a nice little restaurant I know. I hope you'll like the food," I said to her.
"Bring it here. I usually eat in front of the television," she told me.
I set down my bag and brought the dinners to the table.
"Which would you prefer, mistress?" I asked her.
"Both, stupid. I'll try them both. You can go get my room ready while I eat," she told me as she began to open the chicken dinner.
I looked at her in surprise, and she easily stared me down.
"What, Neenee? Do you think the bed linen will change itself? Or that maybe my suitcases will walk in there on their own and unpack themselves? Don't just stand there, get to work. You can take the stuff that's in the dresser now and just throw it wherever you want."
I dragged her heavy suitcases to my room as Hillary started to eat. She barely even looked at me as I lugged the bags along behind me. I was hungry, and the smell of the food in the car had really got my mouth watering. The truly sad thing was that I was being treated like dirt by a teenage girl in my own home, and I *loved* the way it made me feel.
Hillary ate most of one of the dinners and half of the other one while I was moving my things out of my bedroom into the spare bedroom. I was hungry, but being ordered around in my own home made me so horny it was worth starving.
When I was finally done, I returned to the living room and found Hillary reclining on the couch with the two half-eaten dinners still on the table in front of her.
"Come on, we're going to run out to the store. You're driving," she told me as she pulled on her shoes.
I hurried to follow her, and barely had time to throw on my shoes and grab my car keys before she was out the door. At my car, Hillary waited by the rear door on the passenger side, and when I unlocked it, she got in the back! I sat down in the driver's seat, and it was like I was her driver. I'd never driven with nobody sitting in the front and a person sitting in the back.
"Take me to SuperMegaPetLand," she ordered, and I turned the car left out of the driveway and headed towards the pet supply superstore.
We entered the store and quickly found our way to the aisle for dog supplies. Hillary quickly found her way to these wide black leather dog collars and motioned for me to come closer as she pulled one from off the rack. Right there, in the aisle of the store, she wrapped the collar around my neck as if it was the most normal thing in the world. I didn't try to stop her; I just meekly leaned my head forward and let her do what she wanted.
"Too big," she announced about the first one, and as she hung it back on the rack and selected another. I saw a woman with two small children look at us and then hurry her children away.
Hillary put the second collar around my neck and pulled the tongue of it through its buckle. She pulled it until it was all but choking me, and then she fastened it. Grabbing it by the metal ring that was embedded in it, she gave the collar a rough tug that yanked my head down.
"There, that's just right. Hang on," she laughed.
Hillary rummaged around on the rack and found a matching heavy black leather leash about six feet long. She turned to me and snapped the leash's hook onto the ring on the collar, and then stepped back. She gave it a test tug, and smiled at my discomfort at being so degradingly posed in public.
"I think that's about right, but I'm not quite sure. Neenee, get on your knees," she demanded.
I looked around, and thanked god that there was nobody nearby as I sank to my knees. Hillary pulled on the leash and guided me to crawl ten feet or so down the aisle as she laughed at me.
"Heel, you silly bitch. That's just perfect. Take it off and follow me," she laughed, dropping the leash on the floor and walking out of the aisle.
I quickly unfastened the collar and found her in the next aisle admiring a large stainless steel dog bowl. She picked up two of the bowls, stacked inside each other, and handed them to me.
"Here, take these as well," she told me, and then I was following behind her.
She watched, amused, as I paid for the collar, leash, and bowls. Once we left the checkout, she led me to a big machine at the front of the store. It was a machine that you could put money in and make your own tags for dog and cat collars.
"We can't have you running around without a tag now, can we?" the beautiful teenage goddess chuckled, and even then I was madly in love with her.
"No, mistress."
"Let me see what we can put on here."
She fiddled with the thing for a while, seeming displeased by the limited number of large characters that could fit on the tags.
"I know, we'll do three separate tags. Put money in it."
I fed the bills into the machine as Hillary selected the largest round silver tag and set it to engrave what she wanted. I started to look, but Hillary pushed my face with her hand to the side so I couldn't see.
"Not now, I want it to be a surprise," she told me.
I fed the machine twice more, and when the third tag spit from the machine, she gathered them all and walked out of the store with me trailing behind her with my bag of dog items.
Hillary waited by the back door of the car until I unlocked it and let her in.
"Give me the collar, and then take me home," she told me after I got in.
I gave her the collar and started us on the way home. I heard the tags jingling as she slipped them onto the collar. I knew I'd be seeing that collar soon. When we got back to my house and I turned off the car, Hillary waited until I came to the back of the car and opened the door for her. Once we were inside, she handed me the collar.
"Go ahead, take a good look at it. And then get on your knees and put it on," she told me as she rummaged in the back and extracted the steel bowls.
I looked at the tags hanging from the collar as I got down on my knees. The tags all lay in a pile as if they were one big thick tag, and from the front only the first tag's text was visible. It was a single word in large type: CUNT. When I spread the three tags, I was rewarded with the words WORSHIPING and WHORE on the back two tags. On my knees, I carefully did up the dog collar around my throat so that the degrading tags hung at the front.
"All the way down--hands and knees," Hillary ordered, the steel bowls in her hands.
"Yes, mistress," I answered as I sank even closer to the floor.
"Now you're my worthless doggybitch. Ha ha ha. Say it, tell me what you are, slut!" she demanded.
"I-I'm your worthless doggybitch, mistress," I said softly, and my cheeks burned with shame. Undeniably, my pussy burned then as well.
"Come on, doggybitch. Time for your dinner," she laughed, and then she gathered the two take-out plates and the bowls and she walked into the kitchen.
I knew what I was meant to do. I crawled quickly after her, following her on my hands and knees as if I were a dog. Still giggling, Hillary filled one bowl with water and set it down on the kitchen floor. I watched as she took some of the pasta from one of her half-eaten dinners and tossed it into the other bowl with a splat.
"Now show me you're excited about your dinner, doggybitch. Pant like a dog. And wag your fucking tail!"
I opened my mouth and let my tongue dangle as I began to pant and swing my ass back and forth.
"Good, now I'm going to ask you a question and you're just going to bark when I do. Does my little doggybitch want some supper?" she asked.
"Woof! Woof!" I shouted stupidly, still panting and wiggling my ass.
"Good doggybitch. Here you go," she laughed, setting the bowl down in front of me.
I looked at the bowl of leftover partially eaten cold pasta, and I moved closer to it.
"Just your mouth, that's how a doggybitch eats."
Leaning forward, I tried unsuccessfully to capture a flat noodle in my mouth.
"That's not how a doggybitch eats. Show your owner how much you love your food, doggybitch," Hillary demanded, and then I felt her foot on top of my head, pressing me down.
Her foot jammed my face down into the bowl, burying my nose in the cold mass of noodles and getting the sauce all over my face. Her foot rotated on my head and mashed my face harder into the noodles before I opened my mouth wide and began to eat.
"That's it, doggybitch. Eat your fucking food."
I *was* hungry. Under the pressure of her foot on my head, I got into the act and devoured the noodles. She didn't let me up until I'd licked the bowl, and by then I had alfredo sauce all over me.
I spent the rest of the evening kneeling beside the couch in that collar, waiting by my goddess's feet as she watched television. She made me play at being her dog all the way through her getting up and heading for the bedroom."Alright, doggybitch, come on," she told me, and I crawled after her.
At the door to the bedroom, she paused and pointed to the floor in front of the door.
"Wait here."
Several minutes passed, and when she opened the door, I swear my pussy actually quivered at the glorious sight of her. She was wearing nothing but pink cotton panties and a skimpy little matching top. Oh my god, was she ever hot. I looked up the length of those long legs, and I just melted into the floor. She was *so* beautiful.
"Alright, you can take off the collar and get changed as well. Find yourself a blanket," she told me, and then she was off to the bathroom, and the door was closed behind her.
I heard the sink running as Hillary got ready for bed. I quickly changed myself into some pajamas I'd bought after Hillary told me I had to stop wearing any girl clothing. I dug a blanket from the linen closet and waited for Hillary to return.
She reappeared in the doorway, and she still made my heart flutter. Without meaning to, I fell to my knees at the sight of her. Looking down at me then, she gave a little chuckle.
"You really are pathetic, aren't you?"
"Yes, mistress."
"Go get yourself ready for bed, slut," she told me, and her sparkling eyes watched me scurry from the room.
I hurried through my nighttime rituals and returned to find Hillary sitting up on my bed, waiting for me.
"You can sleep down there," she said, pointing to the floor beside the bed.
I didn't argue--I couldn't. She was so beautiful then that I couldn't even think. I picked up the blanket and started to lay down there.
"Go on, get down there like a good slut, and I'll let you have a kiss goodnight to tuck you in," she said, and my heart started to race.
A kiss, an actual kiss from Hillary? The thought was enough to make my crotch heat up instantly. God, did she ever hold an erotic power over me. I was mesmerized by her. I quickly lay down on my back and covered myself with the blanket.
"Alright, time for that kiss," Hillary said, and then she swung her legs off the bed and moved over me.
I looked up at her beautiful body in outright awe as she moved to stand directly over my head, facing my feet. She looked back down over her beautiful bottom at me as her knees began to bend. Slowly, she squatted lower and lower, until the cloth of her pink panties was stretched tight to the point of bursting across her unbelievably wonderful ass. And then those glorious curves grew bigger and bigger in my vision until there was nothing else, until Hillary was squatting herself directly onto my mouth!
"Go on, slut, kiss my *ass*," she demanded as my mouth was plunged into her crack, and there was nothing else I could do.
Her ass embraced my face as I kissed deep in the pink valley of delights, and my nose was filled with the scent of her wonderful body. And then it was over, and she was lifting herself off of me and shutting off the lights.
Laying in the darkness beside my own bed, the smell of Hillary's ass-crack still drifting through me, I was happier than I've ever been. She owned me, and I loved it. | null | null | Authors/cactusjuggler/ownedbyateenagegoddess.txt |
117,694 | Cait N. | Raconteur | You wouldn't think I had many stories to tell, being as isolated as I am, but oh the stories I could tell! Even so, I'd trade them all if only I could be seen for what I truly am.
Oh, sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I am the AeroWing Mark-1, personal shuttlecraft to Voyager's captain. So far I've only had the pleasure of serving under one captain: Captain Kathryn Janeway. I use the word "serve" in the general sense, given that I've never actually left my shuttle bay.
Since I've never left my "home" how can I have stories to regale and amuse you with? It's easy -- the bio-neural gel packs. Yes, them. You want to know how often Tuvok meditates, the color of underwear Torres prefers, how many cups of coffee the Captain drinks a day or how frequently Chakotay stares at said Captain during the course of one shift, ask the gel packs. They are the eyes and ears of Voyager, not the crew.
Also, just because I've never had my warp drive fired up, doesn't mean I haven't seen any action. Just not the kind I was hoping for. It seems that I am the preferred trysting place for Janeway and Chakotay. The rest of the crew might join in on one of Paris's betting pools to guess the date they'll finally give in to their attraction, but I can tell you, they succumbed back on... well, I need to keep some secrets, I suppose. But I can tell you, my deckplates have practically melted beneath the heat those two can generate! I don't think there's a position they haven't tried. Those two are no missionaries, I can assure you. And the toys they've experimented with! Handcuffs, blindfolds, vibrators, paints, leather. I never dreamed that feathers could be used in such a way! And if I had cheeks, I would have blushed when they used the honey. I swear, I've never seen two hornier humans, and during my construction, I saw a lot. I'll save those stories for another day, though.
Janeway and her eccentric love life aside, I really wish she'd realize what a great contribution I could make to the ship and crew. I'm not as fast as the Delta Flyer, or as easily accessible as the generic shuttles, but I've got spirit! I've got heart! I've got--
What?
Ohhh, I never thought of that. You're right.
I've got blackmail material. Tons of it.
Now... if I download my information to one of the gel packs, and then get it to download the information to a PADD on the Captain's desk... Along with a little "suggestion" at the bottom that the Captain help me realize my full potential or else the information goes to Lt. Paris...
Yes, I think I just might get to see the Delta Quadrant up close and personal after all! | null | null | Authors/CaitN/raconteur.txt |
117,708 | Cait N. | Kira's Song (a poem) | Years ago, we were blessed by the Prophets.
We were one with the land, and it sang with joy.
Then came the shadowed warriors, who took our land
and enslaved its people.
A time of darkness descended, eclipsing the sun: the Song was
shattered - carried on the wind; silent.
We questioned the conquerors: "Why?" but only
through our faith could we find the answers.
Our eyes were closed:
we could not see the light.
Our ears were covered:
we could not hear the music.
Our legs were bound:
we could not find the way.
After years of struggle, came the day of deliverance,
when we were blessed by the Prophets once again.
Our eyes were opened; ears uncovered; legs unbound;
and we reclaimed what was rightfully ours.
For there were those who always believed - never doubted - knew
we would not be abandoned - left in the eternal night.
We believed without proof, yet was not our belief
all the proof we needed?
Today I stepped out into the light, smiling, the sun on my face,
the land beneath my feet - and thought I heard,
very faintly - a Song, carried on the wind. | null | null | Authors/CaitN/kira-song.txt |
117,865 | INTIMATE ADVENTURES | You are cordially invited to experience an INTIMATE ADVENTURE...
It was a small tent card, parchment-colored, with that intriguing opening imprinted in flawless calligraphy on the front.
"Look inside," Peg urged, so I flipped the card open and held it so that Helen could read over my shoulder.
In honor of your anniversary
This card entitles you,
Bob and Helen,
To an introductory program.
It was signed by Larry and Peg. There was another name and a phone number on the back of the card. Helen and I just looked at each other for a second, then back at our friends. They were sitting on the edge of their seats, holding hands, and watching us with ill-concealed excitement.
"Umm, thanks," I finally said. What I was thinking was more like, "Huh?" Here we were in our favorite Italian restaurant, sipping great wine while waiting for a mouth-watering dinner to arrive. It was our seventh anniversary, and our best friends had invited us here to celebrate. We do something like this for most occasions, but we've always had a rule against elaborate, expensive gifts. Something told me that this probably broke that rule. "What exactly is this?"
Larry and Peg exchanged a conspiratorial look before Peg explained -- if you can call it an explanation. "It's a service. A very unique, inspiring service. You are in for the most exciting week you've had in years."
"What service?" I asked.
"It's kind of hard to describe in one sentence," Larry answered.
"Take as many as you need."
Larry has a lower bullshit tolerance than anyone I know, so I was surprised at the way he was dancing around this thing. We first met about four years ago in a vanpool. There were five of us in the pool, all near the middle of the GS scale working within a block or two of 7th and D in Southwest DC. It was a sweet deal. The fleet company provided a nice passenger van, not fancy but comfortable. We each paid the fleet company a share to cover the cost of the van, gas, parking and maintenance. We took turns driving, one week per turn. When people spend 3 hours a day in an enclosed space, as we generally did, they can get pretty tight. Larry and I have the same sort of outlook on a lot of things: protesters, Congress, Rush Limbaugh, Dr. Laura, and of course the ineptitude of the local government. It made slogging through the District's pathetic streets more pleasant, that's for sure. By the time the vanpool broke up, Larry and Peg and Helen and I were like quadruplets. We took vacations together, had dinners out almost every week, vented our spleens when necessary. Life was good. It still is. But this card, this 'adventure' thing, seemed out of character.
Taking a deep breath, Larry tried one more time. "Look, there's a lot we can't tell you because it would spoil the surprise. Think of it as a sort of Fantasy Island for the nineties. You tell them what you'd like to do, and they arrange to make it happen. You don't have to take time off work or fly to some distant island, they do it right here, worked into your regular schedule."
Helen stirred behind me. "Like that movie, 'The Game'?"
"Yeah, that's pretty close. Except you and Bob get to decide what the adventures will be, and you'll experience them together. Trust me, you'll love it."
"We certainly did," Peg added, giving Larry's hand another squeeze.
"What did you do in your adventures?" Helen asked.
Peg mimed zipping her lips as Larry answered. "We can't tell you yet. Afterwards, if you still want to, we can talk about it."
Still perplexed, I handed the card to Helen and watched her slip it into her purse. "This is certainly ... unexpected," she told them. "You really didn't have to go to this much trouble and expense."
"It was no trouble at all," Peg replied. "You won't believe how much fun you are going to have."
"And don't worry about the expense," Larry added. "It's a gift, for Chrissakes. And it's not refundable, so make sure you enjoy it."
Peg elbowed Larry in the ribs, almost causing him to spill his wine. I wanted to pursue this a little more, but just then the waiter arrived with our entrees and all non-culinary thoughts were temporarily banished from our minds.
We had a great meal, slipped over to a nearby bar for some adult beverages, and called it a night. The subject of our strange gift never came up again, but I could see Helen puzzling over it the same as I was. Sure enough, once we were alone in the car she asked me what I thought of it.
"It sounds kind of wacko to me," I told her. "What are they gonna do, make us king and queen for a day? What's the point in having adult people play make-believe?"
"Maybe the point is to have fun," she answered after a minute. "How long has it been since we did something really crazy, for no other reason than to laugh about it later?"
"Offhand, I'd say seven years," I replied, twiddling my wedding band.
Helen made a show of looking at her watch. "Seven years, six hours, 42 minutes ... but who's counting?"
I had to smile. "Would you like to have an intimate adventure right now?" I snuck a hand over and slid it along her thigh suggestively. She laughed, removed my hand and kissed it.
"That's a little too adventurous for me, thanks."
With a great show of reluctance I took my hand back. Seeing my wounded puppy-dog look, Helen gave me a sly smile and added, "Let's get home and see what happens." That's as close as Helen ever gets to an overt sexual invitation, so I was a pretty happy guy.
The rest of the evening we worked from the script we've been following for years. When we got home, Helen needed some time alone to unwind so she went to bed and I went to the study and puttered around on the computer for an hour. When I came upstairs, she was lying in bed mostly asleep with the TV tuned to the all weather channel. Helen often uses the TV as a night-light; I've gotten used to it for her sake.
To wake Helen up a little, I made a bit more noise than was really necessary as I undressed and took care of business in the bathroom. Sure enough, when I came out of the bathroom (leaving the bathroom light on so it would illuminate the bedroom area too) she was stirring a little. Wearing only my briefs, I crawled into the bed and snuggled right up against her, planting a lingering kiss on her forehead. "Hi there," I whispered.
"Hi there."
Helen was wearing a thick terry cloth bathrobe over a simple cotton nightgown. Not the most accommodating outfit for what I had in mind; with the thickness of the robe, I couldn't even tell if she had taken off her bra. She rolled over towards me, so all I could really do was put my arm around her and start silently running my hand up and down her back. With each pass I let my hand wander a little lower, until I was stroking smoothly from the base of her neck down the spine and around her butt. I'd linger on the butt cheek for a few seconds, trying to get Helen's libido to wake up.
After about 10 minutes, my efforts paid off. Helen sighed and snuggled a little closer, then rolled away from me a bit, undoing the belt that held her robe together. That gave me a clear path to Tittie City, so I reached inside the robe and gently cupped one of her tits in my hand.
"No bra," I observed. "Are you trying to seduce somebody?"
"Shhh!" I expected that; Helen was never big on playful banter in bed.
Feeling my way along (pardon the pun), I found a nipple and started gently teasing it with my fingers. Soon I felt it starting to stick up and get hard. I switched from just frigging the nipple to cupping the entire tit in my hand, squeezing the way she likes, and I was pleased to hear her start breathing more heavily. A couple of long, open-mouthed kisses later I felt one of her hands trying to get a grip on my cock so I shifted a little, partly to make it easier for her and partly to make it easier for me to reach between her legs. We lay there for a little while stroking each other through our underwear, kissing and fondling and panting. When I started to reach inside her panties, she stopped, kissed me once more and said, "I'll be right back" before disappearing into the bathroom.
As usual, I slipped off my briefs and wondered what she was doing in there. I could hear running water, maybe the faint sound of a toothbrush against teeth. Why do women have this need to stop and primp in the middle of sex? (Yeah, I know, a lot of women stop to put in a diaphragm or something. That's fine, but Helen and I decided a few months ago that it was time to let nature take its course in that area.) After a few minutes I noticed my hard-on dwindling so I started picturing Helen naked, stroking me off while I sucked on her tits. That got my little soldier back to attention.
Just in time, too. I saw the bathroom light go out and the door open. I could just make out Helen's nude body moving toward the TV before she turned it off.She slid back in next to me, pulling the sheet up to her armpits, and snuggled up close. I pulled the extra sheet out from between us and hugged her to me, kissing her neck up and down and stroking her back again. She put a leg up over me and pressed her crotch against my cock, which was once again as hard as when she had stopped earlier. Feeling her short pussy hairs tickling my cock doesn't do much for me, but Helen loves it, so I let her move in and out, rubbing herself against the side of my shaft. I could tell she was getting into it because her eyes closed and she started grunting just a little with each breath. I grabbed a handful of her ass and pulled her tighter against me.
Helen arched her back, giving me easy access to her tits again. I went to work on them with my lips and tongue, one at a time, getting the nipples nice and hard, then took turns sucking on them, licking around them, frigging them with my tongue, listening to Helen's breathing get more labored. Finally, she grabbed my ass and rolled onto her back, pulling me along on top of her.
"I want you inside me," she whispered. "Sit up and I'll get you ready."
I assumed the usual position, kneeling on the bed between her legs. She hooked her legs around my waist and curled forward a little so she could reach my cock. She used the fingertips of both hands to tease my cock by running them from base to tip, over and over, several at once. It's a great technique and never fails to get me ready to fire. After only a few seconds, my hips started pumping all by themselves, and her pussy started getting closer to the end of my rod. She grabbed my cock one more time and rubbed the head up and down along her slit a few times, then guided me straight in.
Here is where things got dicey. Helen has a very long fuse, you see. Thanks to that hand trick, I was ready to pop my cork any time, but if I did it too early, I'd be leaving Helen in the lurch. Instead of pumping in and out right away, I buried myself as deep into her as I could and then held still, pulling her into me tight and clenching my groin muscles hard as I ground my jaw together.
In a moment, her hands rose up and pushed mine away from her hips where I was pulling on her. "Don't grab," she said. God, I hate when she does that! So I flattened my hands and started rubbing my palms up and down the sides of her legs. She seemed okay with that, and we started moving together, grinding our hips in and out. The tempo started to pick up slowly, but I was still too far ahead for safety, so I reached forward with my left hand and started diddling Helen's right tit again, figuring it should really get her juices flowing. I got three or four good squeezes in before she lifted my hand off and put it back on her leg. "Just keep your hand right there," she said. Did I mention that I hate when she does that?
One immediate result of all that was that I no longer had to worry about coming too soon; instead, I needed to worry about keeping myself hard enough to do the job. It wasn't easy, because I could feel my knees slipping backward as Helen pushed into me. Much more and I'd have to either break stride to get back in position (losing all momentum in the process) or fall down on top of her. Helen was still panting and pushing, her face strained, her cheeks puffing with each breath. I held my ground. Watching her tits bounce around while her chest heaved provided just the stimulus I needed to stay hard, and it finally seemed as though Helen was just about ready. Digging my toes into the mattress for support, I pushed against Helen to get a few deeper thrusts in.
That did the trick. Helen's breathing got super heavy, then after seven or eight gasping breaths, she breathed in sharply, held it for a few seconds, and collapsed as she let it go. Without Helen's weight pushing against me anymore, I lost my balance and landed on top of her, my face right between her tits.
Sensing that I wasn't done yet, Helen rolled us both over so that she was on top of me and slid herself back down onto my cock. Helen sat straight up on me, eyes closed, face straight ahead. Soon we had established a rhythm, and I could feel myself getting closer to the brink. I reached a hand up to her breast again. She caught it partway and interlocked our fingers, leaning forward a little more and putting some weight on the hand.
"My legs are getting tired," she said, taking my other hand the same way.
"Sorry!" Having her restrain my hands like that was kind of hot. Thinking about that and watching her delicious tits bobbing up and down provided the inspiration I needed. Moments later, I felt that growing, any-second-now feeling and started panting hard myself. Soon after that, I shot my wad, my whole body going tense and then letting go.
Once she was sure I was done, Helen started to climb off me. I've never understood why, but she always wants a shower right after we have sex. I wanted her to stay with me for a little bit, so I held onto her hand to keep her in bed.
"Let me go, please."
"Aw c'mon, just lie here with me for a while," I appealed.
"I'll come back, I promise." I let go, and she slipped into the bathroom. While the shower was running, I fixed the covers and located her TV remote.
Helen came out of the bathroom already dressed in her nightgown and panties. I was disappointed but not surprised. "You got dressed," I protested gently. "Where's the fun in that?"
"You know I don't like to be naked," she scolded.
"Why not? You look great naked."
"No I don't," she argued. "How much more fun did you want in one night?"
I made an exaggerated pout, and Helen chuckled, slipping into bed and cuddling up against my still-naked body. We kissed and said goodnight. I was left with a vague, unfulfilled feeling, so I got up, put on my briefs, and went downstairs to watch some late-night trash TV. Helen was sound asleep when I crept back into bed.
The next day was a Friday, hot and humid per the norm. As I sat down to my Cheerios and juice, I saw Helen holding that strange card from the night before. "I was thinking I might call the number today and check it out," she said.
"Okay. Can't hurt to ask a few questions."
"What if they won't answer questions?"
"Bugger 'em. We'll give the card back to Larry and Peg for Christmas."
Helen didn't comment, but I could tell the discussion was not over. She'd have me at her mercy soon enough. When the vanpool broke up, I wangled a transfer from GSA in Southwest to the VA in Northwest, which is only a few blocks from Helen's office at the World Bank. We tried doing the mass transit thing for a while, but the only good thing you can say about the DC Metro system is that it's clean. It's not quick, not all that reliable, definitely not affordable, but it's clean. Our ride from suburban Montgomery County, MD cost us $9.60 a day just for subway fare plus two bucks to park our car at the nearest station, and the total commute typically takes an hour and 45 minutes from door to door. By getting a monthly account at a commercial parking garage on H Street and driving together, we cut our commuting time in half and saved a third of the cost. It's very convenient, and if one of us has something to discuss, it ensures a captive audience for a while.
Helen waited until I was done merging onto I-270 before taking advantage. "Bob? Are we okay?"
That surprised me, especially after the previous evening's activities. "I guess so," I told her. "What do you think?"
"I think we're okay too, but I also think that maybe we're getting a little complacent, a little set in our ways. I feel like sometimes we're just going through the motions."
"Is this about having kids?"
"No, it's not that. I know that will happen sooner or later. It's more about you and me. We don't really get excited about things anymore."
Grinning, I answered, "We both got pretty excited last night, didn't we?"
Helen blushed a little bit. "That's not what I mean, and you know it."
"Then what do you mean?"
"I'm trying to explain, just give me a minute." I could see the gears turning in Helen's head. "Have you noticed Larry and Peg lately?"
"Well, I noticed we were having dinner with them 12 hours ago." That's me, master of the obvious.
"You can be such a pain," she admonished. "I mean, have you noticed anything different about them lately? How they act, how they look at each other, how they talk to each other. Don't they seem different?"
Different? I thought about it for a few seconds. "I don't know, maybe they're a little more touchy-feely than normal."
"Exactly." I could see Helen nodding next to me. "There's some kind of very strong connection between them, something that wasn't always there or wasn't always that strong. They've been married longer than we have, but they act like newlyweds. Don't you wonder why?"
"Hadn't really thought about it," I admitted. "I take it you have an idea?"
"I'm starting to. Look at us, Bob. When was the last time we just sat and held hands? Two years ago, in Hawaii. Remember?" I remembered. Ten days at a Honolulu resort, made possible by five years of clipping coupons and comparison shopping. After the first few days, the crazy urge to see and do everything wore off, and we spent most of the time quietly together, just soaking up the sun and being a couple. "I think we... enjoyed each other more in those 10 days than in the entire previous year."
One of the nice things about I-270 in the morning is that you don't have to worry if you lose your concentration for a few minutes -- it's hard to have a wreck when nobody is moving. So I let most of my mind wander back to the vacation.Yes, I had to agree, we did 'enjoy each other' (which was Helenese for having sex) almost every day instead of the usual once a week. It was a lot of fun, and the benefits carried over for a couple of weeks after we got home.
"That vacation brought us closer together for a while," Helen continued. "What if this 'Intimate Adventures' program can do the same thing? Larry and Peg are so excited about it they broke the standing rule on gifts. I think the least we can do is play along."
"I guess I can't argue with you there," I said.
"Not if you know what's good for you."
I let a lecherous grin form on my face. "I wonder what they mean by 'intimate'."
Later that morning, my telephone rang. Seeing Helen's number on the phone's display, I picked it up right away. "Hi, Hon."
"Hi." She sounded happy enough. "I can't talk long, I have someone on hold. Can you get loose for an appointment Monday afternoon?"
I checked my calendar. "Looks free. What for?"
"Intimate Adventures. I've got them on the other line; they say we need to schedule an initial consultation. Can you do Monday at one?"
"Sure. How long will it last?"
"Hold on." I heard silence while she switched lines to consult with the other caller. "They said plan on it taking up the whole afternoon. Is that okay?"
"Jeez, should we pack an overnight bag?"
"No, but they do suggest that we eat a substantial lunch."
"Okay, it's on my schedule."
"You're a dear."
Friday afternoon rush hour is the absolute pits, especially in the summer with people trying to get to the beach. Since I had driven down, it was Helen's turn to drive back. After the morning's discussion, though, I thought it might earn me some brownie points if I volunteered.
Helen was strangely quiet on the trip home. I guided us out H Street past the White House, but instead of joining the paralyzed masses on Canal Road I opted for 15th Street straight up until it merged with 16th and took us out of the District. Helen remained silent the whole time, so once I had merged onto the Outer Loop and established a devil-may-care 5mph pace, I tried to get her talking.
"You look unsettled," I told her. "What's wrong? More of what we were talking about this morning?"
She shook her head slowly. "No, I'm all right."
Okay, I thought, maybe a change of subject will help. "What did you find out about Intimate Adventures today?"
I could see her mental gears switching a little bit. A puzzled look came over her, which was a definite improvement. "Not nearly as much as I wanted to. Mostly they said they would explain everything when we show up for our appointment. We're supposed to be there at one, have a substantial lunch before hand, and stay away from caffeine that day."
"Those are strange instructions," I mused. "What are they going to do, take our blood pressure?"
"Who knows?"
"Is there anything else they want us to do, like take up jogging?"
Helen was struggling with something. "We do have an 'exercise' we are supposed to do before Monday."
"Let me guess -- one of those idiotic compatibility tests, right?"
"No," she said, still searching for words. "It's a bit more physical than that. We're supposed to do ... what we did last night."
"You mean fool around?"
She nodded, blushing. "And we're supposed to talk about it afterwards."
I made a series of loud buzzer noises. Looking at Helen beside me, I realized I was being a jerk and stopped. "Sorry, Hon, but my bullshit detector is on overload. I can't believe this crap." As apologies go I've done better, but I was mostly trying to shut the door on a nasty conversational surprise. There are some subjects that Helen and I just don't talk about, and I had just blundered into a Big One.
That night we had Chinese carryout for dinner. We cleaned up the kitchen together, started the dishwasher running, and Helen announced that she was going to bed early.
"Ooh," I said, perking my ears up. "Is that an invitation?"
Helen let out an annoyed-sounding sigh. "I don't know. I need to relax for a little while, okay?"
"Okay." Since we'd just been together the night before, I didn't really think she was looking for more already. I got engrossed in an action movie or two on cable and crept quietly into bed at 2:00am without disturbing her a bit.
Saturday was a busy day for both of us. Larry and I went kayaking up on the Patuxent while Helen and Peg went on a minor shopping spree. By dinnertime we were all home and exhausted, so Larry and I grilled up a few boneless chicken breasts while Peg and Helen whipped up a hearty salad for four and popped open a can of ready-to-bake biscuits. The four of us sat around the kitchen table and ate hungrily. Larry and Peg kept looking at each other and at us, some kind of message passing between them. "Something up?" I asked, trying to bring it out into the open.
"Not really," Peg answered. "Just wondering if you've contacted Intimate Adventures yet."
Helen had just taken a big bite, so I answered for her. "Helen called them yesterday. We're supposed to go out there for some kind of consultation on Monday."
"Did you get the name of the person you're meeting with?" Larry tried to sound nonchalant but his eyes, and Peg's excited face, betrayed him.
Forcing the food down her throat quickly, Helen waved a hand. "Somebody named Madeline."
Larry and Peg exchanged another of those co-conspirator looks. A spit-eating grin formed on both their faces. This was getting annoying.
"Are you going to share the joke with us?"
"No way, buddy," Larry answered. "Can't do it. Wouldn't even if we could. You'll understand after you meet with her."
"The payoff had better be worth the hype," I growled.
"It is. And then some."
That night as I crawled into bed, I looked at Helen's sleeping face and thought about our homework assignment for the weekend. She'd had a couple of hours to sleep; I figured it couldn't hurt to try. Her back was turned to me so I nuzzled close behind, kissing the side of her neck and working my way up to her cheek. When she started to stir, I whispered very quietly in her ear: "I want you."
Helen rolled partway towards me and looked up at me though half-closed eyes. "I'm pretty beat," she said. "Can we do this tomorrow night?"
I was crestfallen, but it wouldn't help anything to get into a fight. "Okay, you've got a date." I kissed her gently and let her go back to sleep.
We spent most of Sunday together in the house, just relaxing and killing time. A couple of times I alluded to our appointment and the homework assignment, but Helen always changed the subject. She fixed dinner and I cleaned up after it. She went to bed at nine; X-Files was a rerun so I joined her about twenty minutes later.
She was lying on her back, on top of the covers. She wore a long, thick cotton gown with about a gajillion little buttons holding it together from bottom to top. Every single one of them was buttoned, holding the neckline up to just below her collarbone. The sleeves were long and baggy and gathered at the wrists. The material was just thin enough that I could tell she was still wearing a bra underneath. I wasted no time dropping my clothes and climbing into bed with her.
Helen looked pointedly at my exposed crotch. "Somebody is getting a little presumptuous," she observed.
"We still haven't done our homework yet. Wouldn't want Miss Madeline to send us to the principal's office, would we?" She chuckled a little, so I got bolder. My hand reached over and started undoing buttons, beginning at the top. Helen doesn't normally let me undress her, but doing it really turns me on so I tried to distract her with a long, passionate kiss while I manipulated the buttons.
My tactics didn't work any better than usual. Lifting my hand and setting it aside, she murmured, "I'll be right back" and escaped into the bathroom. Several minutes later she crept out of the bathroom, turned off the TV and came back to bed, tucking herself inside my right arm and putting her leg across my thighs. Her right hand started stroking my chest in a gentle arc up and down while her leg worked up and down my thighs. There was nothing for my right arm to do but hug her to me, so I did. At the same time, I tried reaching over with my left hand to play with her tits, but when my hand got close she grabbed it gently and pushed it back to my side.
Since I couldn't get access to the upper deck, so to speak, I tried knocking on the dugout. I opened my legs a little so that the right one pressed up against her mound, while at the same time pushing her into it with my right arm. She must have liked the extra pressure, because the hand that had been caressing my chest went directly south. She hooked her thumb around the base of my cock and used her fingers to play with my balls. It felt really good for the first few minutes and then she started doing it faster and harder, making my balls tingle and my cock stand up like a rocket on the launch pad. When she didn't slow down or stop after a few seconds I realized what she was doing: she was trying to make me come without getting inside her. Helen does that sometimes, usually when she knows I want her but she's too tired, not in the mood, whatever. She knows that if she can get me off quickly I'll be done for the night and she can go to sleep. Most of the time I let her get away with it, but that night I was too horny. Our last encounter, though recent, had been unsatisfying; a quick jerk-off and goodnight would not be enough.
Scooting myself over a little, I rolled onto my right side and pushed Helen down onto the bed. Getting up on all fours, I lowered my head down to one of her tits and sucked gently, working the nipple with my tongue.My left hand wandered down over her mound, and I started running my fingers gently over her slit. She was hardly wet at all. I felt her hand groping around my lower body. Soon it found my stiff cock and started working it like a pump-action shotgun. I worked my fingers inside her dry slit, found the button, and just brushed against it a few times. I felt a hitch in Helen's breath; after a few more light touches, I was rewarded with a flow of moisture. Holding my hand flat against her mound, I worked the whole thing up and down, letting my fingers smear the fluid around. She was starting to lubricate seriously now, and her lips were parting on their own, so I reached way down and slid my middle finger right into her box and reached up as far as it would go. Helen reacted with a strong sigh, so I pulled out for a second and then stuck the finger back in, again pushing it in as deep as I could. She was really wet now, juices flowing all over my hand, and her hand let go of my cock and just fell to the bed. I did another withdrawal and reentry; this time I not only got the sigh, but her hand reached down and covered mine, rubbing it hard against the top of her mound. Her hips started gyrating up and down, and her breathing quickened. I could tell I had her close to her orgasm, and a sense of power flooded through me. Then I felt her free hand lock around my dick again, and I knew that I wouldn't last much longer either.
I pulled my hand out of her box and assumed the kneeling position between her legs. Putting both hands under her ass, I lifted her up and pulled her to me, letting Helen guide my rod into the right socket. I had a pretty decent stance this time, more balanced, so I started pumping away. I could see Helen was getting into it: her eyes were closed, head tilted back into the pillows, and she was breathing through her mouth. That's it, I thought to myself. She's getting closer... closer... closer...
Then I blew it, literally as well as figuratively. I was paying so much attention to Helen's face and body that I had forgotten to keep tabs on myself. My cock jerked and spit several long bursts and then started deflating right away. I ground myself into Helen, hoping to get her off before she noticed my dwindling member. I saw her face scrunching up and felt her inside muscles start squeezing on what was left of my rod. Just when I thought it was hopeless, I felt Helen go into mild spasms, and her breathing switched into the heavy, quick gasps that usually mean she is coming. Her body clenched and released a few times, then relaxed, slipping off the flaccid remains of my cock and down to the bed.
We both took a few minutes to recoup, and then Helen padded back into the bathroom for a quick shower. I pulled on my underwear and waited for her. She came back out shortly, dressed again in the gown of many buttons, and lay down on her side facing me. "Did you have fun?" she asked me.
"Yes, I did," I answered (as if there could be any other answer!). "Did you?"
"It was nice."
"I'm glad you enjoyed."
"Good night, dear."
"Good night."
Helen was a little distracted the next morning. By the time we got onto 270, I had a pretty decent idea what was on her mind, and she soon enough proved me right. "We didn't really talk much last night," she said.
"Not much," I answered, stalling for time. "Sometimes there isn't a whole lot to say."
Helen pondered that in silence for a few minutes before continuing. "Was there one part that was extra good for you?"
Another loaded question. "No, it was good. It was great. You have a very talented hand."
"I try," she answered, flexing and examining the hand in question.
My turn. "Did I... take care of you okay?"
"Hmm? Oh, yes. You did fine. You're pretty talented yourself."
"I try." Another awkward silence followed. "Do you think we've done enough homework now?"
"I think so," she answered.
"Cool." I flipped on the radio, and we listened in silence for the rest of the trip.
Intimate Adventures Part 2
The address that Intimate Adventures had given Helen was in Bethesda, so we had our choice of about seven thousand restaurants within a few blocks of their office. We settled on a German place we knew and had a nice, filling lunch -- maybe a little too filling, we were getting a bit sleepy toward the end of the meal. I wanted to order coffee, but we were told no caffeine before the meeting, so we got up and walked around a little to wake ourselves up.
At five minutes to one, we entered the office of Intimate Adventures, which was tucked discreetly in the corner of a Wisconsin Avenue office building. A strikingly pretty young blonde greeted us, took the invitation, and gave us each a clipboard with a multi-page form to complete.
Looking over the form, I thought for a second we had wandered into a medical office by mistake; besides the usual name and address stuff, the form contained questions about height, weight, allergies, medications, chronic injuries and illnesses, and immediate family medical histories. Then it moved into lifestyle questions: hobbies, work schedules, food preferences, friends and neighbors, TV habits, things like that. The last section had the look of one of those personality assessment tests. It took forever to finish, and more than once I started to hand it back uncompleted. Every time, though, I looked at Helen and saw her answering each question; if she wasn't uncomfortable, I decided I didn't have to be either.
After a very long twenty minutes, we were done with our forms. The receptionist had left us alone, so I was giving mine the once-over while I waited for her to return. I heard voices approaching from inside the suite just as a man and woman came through the door to the inner offices. They were holding hands and talking softly to each other. The electricity flowing between them was almost tangible. They saw Helen and me toiling at our clipboards and smiled at us, then exchanged a knowing look with each other and walked out.
Shortly after that, the receptionist reappeared. We handed our forms back to her, and she accepted them with a dazzling smile and told us to wait "Just a few more minutes."
She didn't lie. Maybe three minutes later, a woman emerged from the back depths of the suite and smiled at us both. She was tall and broad-shouldered, white, with dark brown hair to just below the ears framing her face. I'd guess her age at around 40, certainly not much more. She wore a navy blue suit with an all-business, slightly masculine cut, but it couldn't completely hide the fact that it enclosed a curvaceous female body. "Bob and Helen?" We looked up and nodded, and that's when I first noticed her eyes. Big, clear, sky blue eyes, the kind of eyes that command immediate attention. "My name is Madeline. Will you come back to my office, please?"
We stood up and shook Madeline's hand, then followed her into one of the back offices. Hers was very elegantly made, furnished with a natural cherry desk, credenza, and a very nice set of barrister's bookcases. Opposite the bookcases was a daybed, also in cherry, with an assortment of pillows. Instead of standard office chairs, she ushered us into deep, high-backed easy chairs that seemed to conform immediately to our bodies. On the wall behind her desk was a series of official-looking framed documents; I couldn't make out all the fancy writing at that distance, but it looked like Madeline had multiple college degrees and a state-issued license or two. Madeline encouraged us to sit back and relax as she walked around to her side of the desk. There was a folder of papers on the desk, and though I couldn't see anything specific, I assumed our questionnaires were inside it.
"You've been married seven years, right?" She had a great voice -- deep, resonating, clear.
"That's right," Helen said.
"No children?"
"Not yet," Helen answered and looked at me.
"And you were referred to us by Larry and Peg, yes?"
"Yes. They gave us that gift card for our anniversary."
"Okay. Before we go any further, I want you both to know that everything we say in this room stays in this room. Nothing will be recorded, and a bare minimum will be written down. You have my personal guarantee of complete privacy whether you choose to enter the program or not."
Helen and I looked at each other, then nodded our understanding.
"Good. Why don't you tell me about yourselves?"
"Isn't that what the questionnaire is for?" I asked.
"Partially," she answered. "But I'd like to hear how you describe yourselves. This way is so much more interesting than reading a standardized form."
"Okay. I'm 34, I'm a procurement officer at the VA downtown." Madeline looked as if she was waiting to hear more, but I didn't quite know where to go, so I let it be.
Helen broke the pause for me by chiming in. "I'm 32, and a manager in the telecom offices of the World Bank. I'm originally from western Pennsylvania. I'm an only child, and my parents are retired and living in Arizona. We don't have much contact with either of them aside from the occasional phone call or letter. There's no friction, we've just grown apart somewhat."
Seeing Madeline's approving smile, I decided to extend my own remarks. "I'm the oldest of four, most of whom still live in or near Pittsburgh. We go up there for a couple of days every summer and catch up, no big deal. I met Helen during college."
"Which college was that?"
"St. Francis."
Madeline looked mildly surprised; she opened the folder again and leafed through the papers. "That's a Catholic college, isn't it?"
"Yep."
"But you listed your religion as 'None' on the form." The arch in her eyebrows made the question clear.
"I was raised Catholic," I explained."Catholic grade school, Catholic high school. St. Frances was my folks' choice, not mine. By the time I got out of there, I'd had Catholicism in my face for 20-plus years and I was sick of it. I guess I'm technically still a Catholic, but I don't go to church unless somebody I know is getting married or buried."
"Is there something in particular about the Church that bothered you?" Madeline's voice stayed even, but her eyes said that she really wanted to know. I was finding her very easy to talk to.
"No one huge thing," I answered. "There was a growing discomfort with the people I'd come to associate with the Church. They seemed a little out of touch with the real world. And despite being force-fed the doctrine for my entire young life, I never really accepted it all. My folks were, and still are, very devout, so I went through the motions to please them, but once I was on my own, I stopped pretending."
"I see," she replied. "Helen, you listed yourself as Catholic. Do you still practice?"
"No," she said, shaking her head slowly. "I never had a big problem with the basic teachings of the Church. I still carry most of the Catholic values, as does Bob." I nodded in agreement. "By the time I met Bob, I had already become uncomfortable with the Church as an organization. It had become so political, so intent on trying to force some of its doctrines into laws that would then affect everyone whether they believed or not. That just felt wrong to me, so I sort of dropped out."
"Were your parents angry about that?" Madeline was looking at Helen when she asked, so I stayed quiet.
"At first. But when I explained how I felt, they were very understanding. I think they're still a little disappointed that I don't go to church, but they like Bob, and they know that we both try our best to be good people."
"Mine were pretty steamed," I volunteered. "They stopped talking to me for a few weeks, but their parish pastor convinced them that Helen and I might come around in time if they would show us a good example of Christian love and forgiveness."
Madeline kept nodding. Behind the blue eyes, I could see her digesting the information and filing it away. "Let's talk about your relationship," she said to both of us.
Helen and I looked at each other, silently debating who would begin. I volunteered. "We get along fine most of the time. We work near each other, so we carpool every day. That gives us more time together than a lot of couples have."
"We share the housework pretty evenly," Helen added. "Bob and I both cook and clean, but we do eat out a lot because it's so late when we get home most of the time that neither of us wants to spend an hour fixing dinner. Larry and Peg are our best friends, and we do something together with them almost every week."
"How about the sexual part of your relationship?" Madeline asked without batting an eye.
Helen's face froze instantly, and the sense of comfort I'd been riding on was suddenly pulled out from under me. "Pretty much normal," I ventured after a very long pause. "Once a week or so, on average. Nothing kinky." Madeline looked over to Helen, but no way was Helen going to step into that bear trap.
"Did you have sex over the weekend?" Madeline continued, her voice still smooth and casual. Helen's face turned beet red, and I felt the heat rising in my own cheeks too.
"Last night," Helen allowed.
"That's good," Madeline replied. "Did you talk about it afterwards?"
We both sort of shrugged our answer, knowing we had copped out on the conversation. I think we also knew that she wasn't going to leave it that way.
"Why don't you tell me about it?" she asked us both.
Helen started to stammer: "Well... I mean... we--" but I interrupted her.
"I think we'd rather not," I said, in a tone designed to shut down that line of questioning entirely. "There are some things that decent people just don't talk about in public." Helen nodded her agreement.
"I'm sorry, I was not trying to offend you." Madeline made a conciliatory gesture, then changed the subject. "Any trouble in the relationship? Recent arguments, disagreements, anything like that?"
Puzzled, I shook my head. Helen met Madeline's gaze directly and said, "No. Nothing important, anyway. Where are you going with these questions? Why do you need to know all the things in that questionnaire we filled out?"
"Most of that you can blame directly on the lawyers. You know how ridiculous they can get. With what we do here, we need to cover all sorts of possibilities."
"And what exactly do you do here?" Helen had shifted forward in her chair, but it wasn't really made to be perched on that way. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her give up and sit back again as Madeline answered.
"Intimate Adventures is a very unique kind of counseling service. Our clients are all couples who are in strong, committed relationships and who are looking to take their relationship to a deeper, more satisfying level. We help them to do that by arranging safe opportunities for them to have new and exciting romantic experiences."
My bullshit detector was starting up again. "What kind of new and exciting experiences?"
"Whatever you and Helen would like," she answered. "If you decide to enter the program, we will spend the afternoon discussing your relationship in detail. We'll talk about your feelings for each other, your likes and dislikes, your sexual habits and boundaries, your dreams, your fantasies. That information will be used to script several encounters that you will both enjoy and that will help draw you closer together."
"What makes you think we need drawing together?" I challenged.
Madeline closed the file folder and set it aside. "At this point, Bob, nothing other than the fact that you are here with me. Nobody is suggesting that there is anything wrong with you, with Helen, or with your marriage. Larry and Peg have been through the program, and they clearly believe that we have something to offer to you. Our program works best when the relationship is strong and stable, like yours appears to be, and just needs an extra spark."
"We've been together seven years," I argued. "Nobody can be like newlyweds all the time. People grow and change; naturally the excitement level drops a bit along the way."
"You're absolutely right, Bob. In a successful, long-term relationship, it is very normal for a couple to start out very hot, very romantic, and then to cool down over time. At one time or another, almost every couple experiences a period of ennui. Maybe you and Helen are having one now, maybe not. If so, then I believe that I can help you to overcome that in a way that will permanently enrich your relationship. If not, I'll shred your file and arrange a refund."
The word 'ennui' struck a chord in me. Yes, that was a pretty good word for what Helen and I were having. Nothing was exactly going sour between us, but we were definitely in a rut. We'd certainly been going through the motions in bed recently.
While I pondered that, Helen raised a question of her own. "What is your role in all of this, Madeline?"
"I'm your facilitator," she answered. "Together we will talk about your deepest desires, fantasies, hopes and dreams, both romantic and sexual, in explicit detail. Armed with that insight, I will then script and facilitate encounters that will let you explore some of those fantasies in a safe, controlled environment."
"Why all the secrecy? Why not just advertise yourselves as marriage counselors?"
I could see an extra gleam come to the facilitator's eyes as she answered. "Marriage counselors are professionals who take troubled relationships and help to repair them. There's nothing wrong with that; I've done quite a lot of it myself. But at Intimate Adventures, we take good relationships and work to improve them. We take normal people and talk very frankly, sometimes clinically, about habits and desires and feelings that most people don't even discuss with their partners. Our clients have to know that all of their dealings with us are absolutely private; therefore, we don't advertise, we don't sell our client list, and we keep very few records. If you choose to continue with us, you too will appreciate that."
Helen's face took on a nervous look as she asked, "What if we're not comfortable talking clinically about our private thoughts?"
Madeline gave us both a reassuring smile before answering. "I understand completely. Most people are shy about what really turns them on. Sometimes they are afraid they will scare off their partner by seeming too sleazy, sometimes they are just generally insecure. It's perfectly normal and perfectly okay to be like that."
Helen wasn't giving up. "How do you get around it, though?"
"Hypnosis," she answered casually, sitting back in her chair. "All of our facilitators undergo hypnosis training so that they can put clients completely at ease. I happen to be a licensed clinical hypnotherapist. If you and Bob decide you want to enter the program, I will place you both under hypnosis. While you are hypnotized, I will ask you a series of questions about your life, your relationship, your sexual needs and boundaries, favorite erotic fantasies, and secret desires. I will also implant into your subconscious a number of carefully designed posthypnotic suggestions that will cause you to act out some of those fantasies in a safe way. To avoid spoiling the surprise, neither of you will remember exactly what fantasies we discussed or what the subconscious triggers are. A week from now, you will have done some things that will amaze and delight you both."
At the word "hypnosis," Helen's eyes got wide. "So you take control of people's minds?"
"No, but that's a common misconception." Those incredible eyes were warm, smiling.I had no trouble believing she could put people into a trance. "Being hypnotized does not mean giving up control. If I were to hypnotize you right now and command you to commit a felony, you would wake up immediately and tell me off. No hypnotist can make you do something that is against your personal morals and beliefs. What hypnosis can do, what we do here, is to temporarily relieve some of your natural inhibitions so that you and Bob can explore your erotic boundaries a little.
"That's why we only work with couples, Helen. Couples with a stable relationship enjoy our program so much that their referrals keep us in business. No couple has ever left my office unhappy." Then she turned to me. "What do you think about all this, Bob?"
I couldn't answer right away. Mostly I'd been thinking about the idea of watching this woman hypnotize Helen, or better yet having her do it to me. I felt the beginnings of a hard-on stirring in my groin and wasn't sure how to hide it. Madeline just waited, an enigmatic smile on her face. "I've never been hypnotized before," I finally said. "I'm not sure I can be."
"How about you, Helen?"
"Once," she responded. "Ages ago. When I turned 19, some friends took me to a hypnotist show. I was watching from the audience and then I sort of faded out. When I woke up, I was on stage and everyone was laughing and clapping. My friends told me I did some strange things, but all I remember is how good I felt afterwards."
"You must have been in a very deep trance. It's a very useful ability to have, Helen, don't be ashamed of it. Are you willing to let me hypnotize you today and talk about your private thoughts?"
Helen considered. "Does it have to be in front of Bob?"
"Huh?" I started to protest, but Madeline motioned for me to stay quiet.
"Does that make you uncomfortable?" Madeline's manner stayed smooth and unsurprised, like a practiced shrink. "In order to completely enjoy the adventure, you have to trust one another. Having you here together while we talk is an important step in building that trust. It's natural to be uneasy about how Bob might react, especially knowing that we will be discussing your sex life with him in great detail. Is there something more than that troubling you, Helen?"
Helen thought about it a little before answering. "No, that's pretty much it."
"Then relax, Helen, and don't worry about it. Bob will be here, and Bob will witness everything we talk about, just as you will be here and witness everything that Bob and I talk about. But by the time you leave here today, neither of you will remember any of those discussions. You have my solemn word on that. Remember, satisfaction is guaranteed."
"Okay, I can accept that."
Madeline nodded approvingly. "Very good. Bob, are you willing to let me hypnotize you today, in front of Helen, and talk about your most intimate fantasies and thoughts?"
Putting on a brave front for Helen's benefit, I answered without hesitation: "Absolutely."
"Very well, then. Why don't you both use the rest room while I get some final paperwork together? We'll begin in about 15 minutes."
Helen looked at me sheepishly as she emerged from the ladies' room. "Are you upset with me for not wanting you there?"
"It surprised me," I admitted. "I still don't quite get it."
She nodded. "When we go back in there, Madeline is going to start asking me frank, intimate questions about our life, and I won't be able to do anything but answer honestly. We don't talk about... bedroom things... very often, and I'm afraid that you might find some of those answers a little disturbing."
"Is there something wrong? Something we need to talk about?" An icy chill ran up my spine.
"No no no," she replied at once, grasping my hand in hers. "Nothing wrong. It's hard to explain. I really don't want to try to explain it in a public place, if that's okay."
"It's okay, I can wait. But understand this, Helen: you are my wife, my lover, and my best friend. If you confess to a closet desire for a big, strong guy in a leather mask to handcuff you to the bed and screw your brains out, I promise I won't think any less of you."
That got her smiling again. "You wish."
When we returned to Madeline's office, she handed each of us another clipboard. "One more piece of paperwork before we start," she explained. "This is a standard release form. In simple English, it says that you consent to being hypnotized, that while under hypnosis you will answer questions of a frank and intimate nature, and that you will be given sexually explicit suggestions while under hypnosis that will compel you to perform sexual acts. We guarantee to keep all information we gather about you confidential, and you agree not to hold us responsible for any accidental injury, illness or pregnancy that might result."
"More weasel words from the lawyers?" I asked.
"No, this one was my idea. I've found that a client's subconscious is even more cooperative if the client has already consciously agreed. In your mind, you are giving me permission to hypnotize you and prime your subconscious with erotic suggestions. That permission helps to break down any low-level resistance or fear you may still have."
I just had to ask: "Has anyone actually gotten pregnant doing this?"
Madeline favored me with another delicious smile. "Only once that we know of. One of my colleagues had a couple conceive during their program. They named the baby after him." We all chuckled at that one.
Helen and I signed our forms and handed them back to Madeline. Setting the clipboards aside, she continued. "Okay, let's try a little test. I want both of you to listen closely and do what I say. This will help me to gauge how good your imaginations are and how best to help you enter the deepest trance states.
"First, I want you to hold your arms straight out in front of you. Don't clench them, just extend them forward and leave them as relaxed as you can." I extended my arms forward, seeing Helen do the same. "Good. Now I want you to close your eyes. I am going to count to five. With each count, I will say the word 'in' and when I say 'in' I want you to take a nice, slow, easy, deep breath. You will hold that breath until I say 'out'. When I say 'out' I want you to slowly, easily, gently exhale and feel your body relaxing and settling into the chair. Ready?"
"Ready," we said.
"One. In..." I inhaled slowly and deliberately until my lungs felt full. "...Out..." I loosened my jaw and let the air escape through my lips. I think I heard Helen doing the same. Madeline praised our early efforts. "Very good, both of you. Now two, in... out... Fine, now three, in... out... just letting yourself settle a little further into the chair. Four, in... out... your mind should be clearing and feeling quiet. Five, in... out... excellent, both of you.
"Now for an imagination exercise. I want you to imagine that I have placed the handle of an empty bucket in your left hand, allowing the bucket to hang down below that hand. The bucket can be metal, plastic, wood, whatever you want it to be. It can be shiny or dirty, old or new, your choice. Now, I want you to imagine that I have tied a string loosely around your right wrist. Just an ordinary, everyday piece of household string, like kite string or package string. It's soft and not too tight. See it in your mind. Do you see the bucket and the string? Nod when you see them."
I felt myself nodding. Yes, I could see them. The bucket was a simple metal pail with a wooden grip in the middle of a simple wire handle. The string looked exactly like a kite string, strong but soft on the hands, and it was looped gently around my wrist.
"You are both doing very well. Now please imagine that I have placed a brick inside the bucket. A big, heavy brick like you'd find in a chimney or a fireplace. You can hear the 'thunk' as the brick lands in the bottom of your bucket. ... Good, you are starting to feel the weight of the brick in the bucket. Now I am going to add five more bricks, each one making the bucket heavier and heavier. One... Two... Three, feeling the bucket get so heavy, your left arm feeling the strain from holding up so many heavy bricks... Four... Five. There are now six heavy, solid bricks in your bucket. You can feel the great weight of all those bricks pulling down, pulling down against your hand as you struggle to hold onto the handle. Don't let the bucket fall. Hold those bricks as long as you can."
This was getting strange. I knew it was just an imagination exercise, but I really did feel a huge, heavy weight pulling down on my hand, just as if I really was holding a bucket of bricks. With my eyes closed, it was tough to be sure, but I thought I could feel my arm slowly starting to sink down, pulled down by the weight I was holding.
"Wonderful, Bob. Wonderful, Helen. You are both doing so well, you should be very pleased. Now, while you continue to hold your bucket of bricks, I want you to turn your attention to your right arm. The string is still loosely tied to your right wrist and now you can see what is at the other end. You see a balloon, big and round and brightly colored, attached to the end of the string. It is a helium-filled balloon. I now release the balloon and you can see it rising into the air until the string around your wrist stops it from rising further. Watch the balloon as it tugs gently on the string, trying to pull your arm upward ever so slightly. Now imagine that as you watch the balloon, it begins to grow. Bigger and bigger, the balloon fills with more and more helium. The bigger it grows, the more it wants to fly away, the more it tugs on your wrist. Keep watching the balloon, watching as it gets bigger and lighter."Feel it pulling up on your arm as it strains to break free."
There was silence for a few moments while I watched my balloon do what Madeline had described. The string around my wrist went tight, and I started to feel a strong pull upward as the balloon got bigger.
"Very good, both of you. Now you can open your eyes and see the results of your work."
I opened my eyes and blinked a couple of times. My arms were still outstretched in front of me, but my left arm had dropped almost to my lap and my right had risen so that my hand was just above eye level. "Cool!" I remarked, putting them both back on the armrests of my chair. Then I looked over at Helen. Her left arm was pointing almost straight down, having missed the armrest. I could see her fingers trembling as if from heavy exertion as they remained hooked around empty space. At the same time, her right arm was pointing at the ceiling, the hand bent at the wrist as if held up by wires. Her face looked strained, uncomfortable, and she was looking pointedly at Madeline. "This is getting very uncomfortable, and I can't seem to stop."
Madeline beamed. "I'm sorry, Helen, I didn't mean to cause you discomfort. Please let go of the bucket, let it fall to the ground and roll away. On the count of three, the string tied to your right arm will break and the balloon will float off on its own. One, two, three."
It was amazing. Helen's right arm dropped like a stone on the count of three. Her left arm relaxed, then she slowly brought it up before herself and flexed the hand a few times, like you would do if you had just put down a heavy load.
"Did we pass the test?" I asked. For some reason, it seemed important to get Madeline's approval.
"You did," she answered. "Both of you will have no difficulty entering a deep trance. In fact, you were both in a moderate trance during the test, which is why your bodies reacted so well. You are very hypnotizable. Who would like to go first?"
Helen put her hand up right away. "I will."
"Are you sure?" I asked, remembering her reservations about having me there.
Helen nodded firmly. "I'm sure. I trust you."
Madeline nodded. "Then let's begin." She rose from her chair, came around the desk and sat down on a short upholstered stool with ball casters. Rolling up close to Helen's face, she lowered her voice and started talking. "Watch Helen's face very closely, Bob. She is about to enter a deep hypnotic sleep and you need to be able to recognize the signs that she has done this."
I scooted my chair around a little to get a better viewing angle on Helen. Her face looked a little uneasy, but not too scared. I saw Madeline hold up the first two fingers on her right hand in a V and point them toward her own face.
"Helen, I want you to look right here. Don't take your eyes from mine. Don't move or speak or nod your head or make any sound unless I ask you to. I know that you hear and understand me just as you know it. If you follow my simple instructions, there is nothing that can keep you from entering a very deep, pleasant state of hypnosis in just a fraction of a second. Take a deep breath now and fill up your lungs." I noted the slow rise of Helen's chest, even as my eyes remained locked on her face. As Helen inhaled, I also noticed Madeline's right hand moving upward. "Now exhale." Helen's lips parted and she exhaled as Madeline's hand slowly sank back down. As Helen let the breath go, her face started becoming softer, more relaxed, like when she is asleep. They repeated the cycle of inhale and exhale several more times. On the second exhale, Helen's eyes went glassy like she had stopped focusing, although they were still pointing right at Madeline's face. A couple more breaths and they started tearing and blinking more frequently.
Then I started to notice things about myself. My own breathing had begun to follow Helen's and Madeline's, slowly inhaling and exhaling on her command. And as I watched Helen and realized that she was really falling so easily under Madeline's spell, a raging hard-on took hold of me. I shifted involuntarily, trying to make room in my pants for it.
"Very good, Helen. You are relaxed, you are feeling wonderfully drowsy, ready to enter a deep, satisfying state of hypnosis." Madeline raised her hand well above Helen's head level, but far enough in front that Helen's peripheral vision could probably pick it up. "Now, I'm going to count from five down to one. As I count down, your eyelids grow heavy, droopy, drowsy, and sleepy. By the time I reach the count of one, they close right down and you go deep in hypnotic sleep, deeper than you've ever gone before. All right, five..." Helen's eyes reacted exactly as she was told, I could see her struggling to keep them up. Madeline's hand moved slowly downward as she continued counting. "Four: eyelids heavy, droopy, drowsy, sleepy... Three: Eyelids getting heavier and heavier, ready to close and relax completely... Two: They begin closing, closing, closing, closing, closing... One. Sleep now, Helen."
All through the count, I could see wrinkles forming on Helen's forehead as she fought to keep her dazed, empty eyes open. The second Madeline said 'One', something snapped and Helen's face went totally slack. Her whole body just slumped down in the chair like a rag doll. I had to bite my lip to keep from coming in my pants.
Madeline shifted and looked back at me, pointedly observing the tent pole trying to push through my zipper. "What's your first impression of hypnosis, Bob?"
No point in denying it, the physical evidence was too obvious. "I've never seen anything so hot in my life," I told her. Suddenly I wondered what I would feel when it was my turn with Helen watching, and my cock got even stiffer.
"I thought you might like that induction. You'll enjoy it even more when your turn comes, I assure you."
I just gulped and stared into those powerful eyes, still painfully hard and closer to an embarrassing solo orgasm than I ever thought possible.
Madeline's voice brought me back to the here and now. "Bob, I'm going to spend some time on deepening Helen's trance state. This would be a good opportunity for you to get up, stretch, walk around a little, have some water if you like. Come back in about ten minutes."
She didn't have to tell me twice. I got up and hustled to the bathroom like a little kid at the end of a long drive. Once there, I started splashing cold water on my face and commanded my cock to stand down. It took most of my ten minutes and lots of cold water, but I did manage to get hold of myself, figuratively speaking. Fortunately for me, nobody else came in during that time. (Had I known that I would have the restroom to myself for that long, I probably would have jerked off into the commode instead.)
When I returned to Madeline's office, I was surprised to see that Helen had moved. She was now lying prone on the daybed, a body-length pillow underneath her. Except for the fact that she was fully clothed (other than her shoes, which I saw on the floor near her feet), she looked like someone about to get a massage. Her face was beautiful, completely loose and at rest. Even asleep, Helen didn't usually look this relaxed. Then I realized she was talking, slowly and deliberately. "... My brakes were wet and I couldn't stop in time. I ended up hitting the car in front of me. The driver came running back toward me and I thought he was going to start yelling at me, but all he did was ask if I was all right. He was so nice."
"Luckiest accident I've ever been in," I added, but Helen paid no attention.
"He used his auto club card to get a tow truck for my little car and drove me home. He kept asking me if I was all right, and I kept telling him I didn't know. A few days later we had our first date."
Madeline had been listening intently, as if making mental notes. She looked up at me with approval in her eyes. "Thank you, Helen. Please relax, let your mind wander for a while, until I touch your leg. While you are wandering, pay no attention to anything you might think you hear. When I touch your leg, that means it is time to continue our conversation."
She turned to me. "Were you really upset with her?"
"I was pretty pissed," I answered truthfully. "By the time I got close enough to see her, I knew she was embarrassed and upset already. I figured, why be an asshole?" She wrote a little more. "I see you've started the Q and A without me," I observed.
"Not really. I just moved her to a more comfortable position and asked about how you first met, mostly to get her used to the idea of answering my questions while still in hypnosis. Now that you're back, we can begin in earnest." She reached over and touched Helen on the back of her leg. Helen didn't move a muscle. "Helen, it is time for me to ask you some very personal questions. Bob is here with me, but neither you nor he will remember anything we say. You will want to answer me as honestly and completely as you can so that I can help you, do you understand?"
"Yes, Madeline."
The question and answer session went on for over an hour. I was completely awake during the whole time, but for the life of me I can't remember a damn thing either woman said. I do remember an emotional thrill ride that had me constantly switching between surprise, shock, arousal, and disbelief.
In hindsight, I have a pretty good general idea what information Madeline was gathering. Some of the questions had to involve Helen's feelings about sex: preferred locations and positions, where and how she likes to be touched, orgasms, taboos, things like that. Fantasies, of course. There also had to have been a few questions about how she and I were getting along and what our schedules for the coming week looked like.She planted at least one posthypnotic trigger, which she would demonstrate shortly.
The next thing I remember clearly is Madeline telling Helen to wake up. Helen's eyes popped open, blinked heavily a couple of times, then opened wide as she took a good look around. "I seem to have been transplanted," she remarked.
"The chair wasn't supporting your head and neck very well," Madeline explained. "It seemed uncomfortable and was interfering with your breathing a little, so I had you move."
Then I saw she was looking at me. "Bob, honey? Are you okay?"
I remember a strange, disturbed feeling. After all, at that point I hadn't been hypnotized yet. Whatever Helen had said in her trance, I had witnessed it and still remembered everything. I remember putting on a smile mask and telling her I was fine. She didn't seem convinced, but Madeline came to my aid.
"He's having a very intense emotional reaction, Helen," she explained. "He has heard a lot of things in the past hour, and some of them were very surprising to him. What's important for you to realize is that he listened to everything and that he still loves you, despite what you feared."
I made good strong eye contact with Helen, whose face was flushed again. "She's right," I told her. "Some of the things you said surprised me. Some of them excited me. All of them are your thoughts and your ideas, and none of them have made me love you any less. Besides, in another hour or so I won't remember any of it, so don't worry."
Helen rose off the daybed and met me in the middle of the room for a long, warm hug and kiss. Madeline let it go on for several minutes before suggesting that we take our seats and continue. She had us turn our chairs toward each other more to improve Helen's view, then rolled her little stool over next to me.
Making a V with her fingers, she pointed them at her own eyes. "Bob, I want you to look right here. Don't take your eyes from mine. Don't move or speak or nod your head or make any sound unless I ask you to. I know that you hear and understand me just as you know it. If you follow my simple instructions, there is nothing that can keep you from entering a very deep, pleasant state of hypnosis in just a fraction of a second. Take a deep breath now and fill up your lungs. ..."
Just like Helen, I woke up prone on the daybed, fully clothed except for my shoes. It was a very strange sensation -- one second I was in a chair taking that first deep breath, the next I was in a different place and position entirely. As my head cleared, I became aware of Helen staring at me, her face a mixture of puzzlement, fear and wonder. Much like mine must have looked to her when she woke up, I thought.
Madeline's voice asked, "How do you feel, Bob?"
"Good." Even as I said that, I was double-checking and discovering that good was an understatement. I felt positively radiant.
"I'm glad. Bob, can you please tell me some of the things you heard Helen say under hypnosis today?"
"Sure. Let's see, there was ... she said ... I think ..." It was the damnedest thing.
"It's okay, Bob," Madeline assured me. "You don't have to remember. You will never need to remember anything that you heard during Helen's trance, or anything we talked about during your trance." That was a relief. "Helen, why don't you sit down next to Bob and we'll try another exercise?"
Helen muttered a subdued "okay" and joined me on the daybed. We sat facing each other, arms touching at the back but with enough space between our bodies for a third person as Madeline continued. "I want you to watch each other very closely. We are now going to practice a simple suggestion that I gave to each of you. Helen, I want you to start reciting the alphabet to Bob. Do it slowly and maintain eye contact."
Our eyes locked together, Helen began saying the letters. When she reached 'E' I heard Madeline's voice say "Helen, sleep now." She never made it to 'F' -- instead, her eyes turned glassy and rolled back into her head, her mouth dropped open and she melted into the cushions around her. One second she was there, the next she was gone. I remembered the time she had an outpatient surgery and the anesthesiologist let me stay with her to keep her calm; I saw him insert a hypodermic needle in her IV tube, and within five seconds Helen went from being a nervous wreck to a peaceful, sleeping angel. The strange mixture of memory and reality was getting me hard again as I heard Madeline say, "Helen, wake up."
Helen awoke with a start, looking around, then sat straight up again. "F ... G ..."
"You can stop now," Madeline said. "Quickly, though, look at Bob. Watch Bob."
Helen's eyes locked on mine again as Madeline spoke: "Bob, sleep now." Something grabbed onto my eyelids and dragged them down, and my body went totally limp. So this is what it feels like, I thought as I let go to the fog engulfing my mind.
Madeline kept doing it to us in turns, putting us under with a word and then waking us up again. I lost count of how many times we repeated the cycle, but I did notice that waking up seemed to be getting more difficult with each try.
"This is called fractionation," Madeline explained. "A series of rapid reinductions helps your mind get used to going into deeper and deeper trance states quickly."
"Wonderful," I said sarcastically. I was starting to wonder if this was really such a good idea; the power this stranger now had over us was unnerving. "How many more rides on this elevator?"
"Just one, I think. Bob and Helen, sleep now..."
"... Fully awake now, refreshed and alert." And just that easily we were, although it took me a few minutes to be sure we would stay that way. Helen and I were still on the daybed, but now we were sitting closely together, arms intertwined across the back edge. I felt great. Helen's face had a glow that I hadn't seen in a long time. The watch on her wrist read 5:40, but somehow that didn't surprise me.
Madeline offered us each her hand. "That concludes this session," she said. "I must say I'm looking forward to working with you both. You are a very special couple."
"What happens next?" Helen asked.
"Next, I take everything we discussed here and work up a plan for your adventures."
"Can you give us a hint?"
Madeline gave us a thoughtful look. "It's a little too early to say. I can make a few general observations if you want."
"Please," we said together, bringing a broad smile to Madeline's face.
"Very well. Like many couples in long-term relationships, you two have defined roles for yourselves which feel safe and comfortable, but which are also very confining. You are both strong personalities accustomed to being in control; that leads to unwitting power struggles in the bedroom while you each try to ensure that the other is satisfied, with the unintended result of less enjoyable sex for both of you. Finally, you are also both very shy about discussing your sexual needs and feelings with each other, not just during sex but in general. These are things we will work on early and often throughout the program."
"What about the fantasies?" Helen asked anxiously.
"You both have some very interesting fantasies," she answered. "Not surprisingly, control figures prominently in them. Each of you has fantasies in which you are completely in control, and also in which you are completely out of control. We should be able to give you each an opportunity to experience both while hopefully fulfilling some other desires. I still need to sketch out the details, but you have my word you will enjoy it."
"What will you do, call us or something?"
"I'll be calling you both often," Madeline assured us. "Most of the time you won't remember it, but we'll be in frequent contact." She pressed a button on her phone, and right away the cute blonde receptionist poked her head in the door. "Kym, I want you to meet Bob and Helen. Kym will be assisting me with your program."
"Hi," Kym said, coming forward with a hand extended. At close range I confirmed my initial assessment: twenty-something, very pretty, with fine blonde hair so pale that the fluorescent lights in the office made it seem almost white. Like Madeline she was dressed in simple business attire, but her jacket and skirt were clearly designed to highlight, rather than mask, her feminine charms. We shook hands politely.
Madeline asked Kym to show us out, so she led us into the hallway, closing Madeline's door behind her. Once clear of the office, she bent toward us and in a low voice said, "That was a very long appointment. Madeline must like you a lot."
"Is that good?" Helen asked.
"It's great," the girl answered. "I mean, don't get me wrong. Madeline is a professional; she always does her best for each couple she sees. But when she really likes a couple, her creativity just soars. You two are in for a wild ride."
Something in her face aroused my curiosity. "Has Madeline ever hypnotized you?"
Kym nodded, flashing a dazzling smile. "Oh, yes. More often than I realize, I'm sure. Madeline is training me to be a facilitator myself. I just hope I can be half as good at it as she is."
Ushering us out the door, the girl bid us goodnight. I heard the turn of the lock as she closed the door behind us.
Intimate Adventures Part 3
We were quiet on the way home from Bethesda. I think we were both trying to digest everything we had been told about ourselves.
It didn't take long for me to realize that Madeline had me pegged. I do have a thing about being in control, I always have. That's why it drives me nuts when I try to do something for Helen in bed and she stops me. As you can probably guess from my background, talking about sex was a big taboo in my family.Most of my sexual education came from antiseptic-looking men in lab coats giving "Family Life" lectures at school. I knew I was pretty square, maybe even uptight, but so was everyone else in my circle. By the time I met Helen, I had found a system that worked -- get her wet, hide the salami, make sure she comes first -- and I was afraid to try much of anything else. Helen seemed to like my technique enough; she never suggested anything different, anyway. There was that one time she surprised me by taking my cock into her mouth for a few seconds. It felt so good that I almost came right in her mouth, but I was afraid of grossing her out so I asked her to stop. Later, I tried to go down on her, but the strong smell and the fluids everywhere made me gag (not real romantic) and I had no idea what to do down there, so I gave up. From that point on, we stuck with good old-fashioned boning, and I figured we were okay as long as I made sure Helen was satisfied.
That's not to say I didn't have fantasies. Sure, sometimes I'd get all hot and bothered thinking about Helen tying me up and having her way with me, or about Helen seducing me in a strange or public place, or about me slowly undressing Helen and driving her wild. But if Madeline thought a few suggestions were going to turn this square into a swinger, I figured Larry would be getting his refund after all.
After overindulging at lunch, neither of us felt like a big dinner, so we just pulled out some leftovers and ate off paper plates. Helen was still pretty much silent, looking thoughtful and a little bit distant as she ate. Madeline had more or less said we should try to talk more, so I figured it couldn't hurt to try. "Penny for your thoughts?" I offered.
Helen smiled a distant smile. "Nickel for yours."
"I asked you first," I countered, and resolved to wait quietly until she was ready. She only kept me waiting a few seconds.
"I was thinking about Madeline, and about us," she explained. "How we do seem to have fallen into habits that maybe aren't working as well for us as they used to. How we don't try new things anymore. How we don't really talk about things -- not just bedroom things, but feelings in general."
"Same here. That lady has our number, all right." A lot of my insecurities came flooding up, and I added: "Is there anything you'd like me to do for you? In bed, I mean?"
She gave me a sad smile and took my hand in hers. "I honestly don't know, dear. Why don't we just see what happens this week and take it from there?"
I was going to say "I can do that," but it came out "I love you." That works too, I decided.
"I love you too."
That night when Helen went to bed, I flipped on the computer for a little recreational surfing. The plan was to read up on hypnosis, but for some reason my heart wasn't in it. I could hear Helen moving around in the bedroom, and half my brain kept picturing her up there getting changed, brushing her teeth, climbing into bed. I decided to shut off the computer and go to bed myself. As soon as I walked into the bedroom, I began to feel strange. My body started its usual routine of undressing, but it felt different somehow.
"You're up early," Helen observed as I started taking my shirt off.
"Yeah, I know."
"Any particular reason?" Helen had the strangest expression on her face, a kind of nagging puzzlement that looked a lot like what I was experiencing as my body continued stripping almost by itself. I decided to stop and think about it, but my body paid no attention -- it just kept peeling off clothes.
"I don't think so. Do you mind?"
"Not at all." Something was up -- Helen had seen me strip almost daily for years, but tonight she seemed to be really watching as my pants dropped to the floor. I saw that her eyes were aimed straight at my crotch. Then I noticed her bare shoulders above the edge of the sheet. Helen doesn't own any sleepwear that doesn't cover the shoulders (she doesn't even own a strapless bra); that meant she was topless at least.
She scooted closer to the middle of the bed as I approached it, lifting the sheets to allow me to slide in underneath them. I caught just a glimpse of her body as she held up the sheets, and even in the murky light of the TV I could tell she was naked. Right about then I realized that I was too, naked and starting to get hard.
I let Helen pull me closer as she draped the sheets over me and slid an arm under her head to hug back. Our mouths locked together in a long, delicious kiss. We kept kissing, and I felt my cock rising and stiffening even more under the sheet. Helen's hand slid down my belly and found the proof of my arousal. I drew in a sharp breath and heard myself moan when her hand started to caress its length.
Things got really strange at that point. Part of me knew that I was getting too excited too soon and wanted Helen to stop so I could work on her first. But my body wouldn't respond to that part; instead, the more Helen stroked me, the heavier my limbs felt and the lighter my head felt. I couldn't speak and I couldn't move, not even to try and return the favor; I was overcome by the heaviness. It was very similar to what I'd felt in Madeline's office as she sent me off to sleep; I felt a creeping anxiety, just as I had felt in Madeline's office, as I realized how completely powerless I was. At the same time, I became totally fixated on the sensations in my cock and then in my balls as Helen continued to stroke and fondle me. All my nerves were tingling where she touched me; soon my fears were drowned in growing ecstasy as I moaned uncontrollably with every move she made. My cock felt longer than a baseball bat and harder than an iron spike, and then in a flash I realized it was about to explode. I took a deep breath and groaned loudly as I felt myself fly over the edge. My cock kept pumping and pumping for longer than I'd ever imagined possible. I was so absorbed in the pleasure of the physical release that it seemed like ages before my cock finally went still and my breathing began to return to normal.
Helen's arms were around me, her head resting on my shoulder and her leg draped over mine. I found that I could move again; the heaviness had lifted sometime during my orgasm. Then I realized what I had just done -- I'd violated my sexual prime directive by not bringing Helen to orgasm with me. Saddened and a little ashamed for not trying harder to please her, I kissed the top of Helen's head. "I'm sorry, honey," I began.
Helen's face tilted up toward mine. She locked her eyes on mine and asked, "Why?"
"Because I didn't ... I mean, you didn't ..." She put two fingers over my mouth to silence me.
"I got what I wanted," she said.
"I love you," I said as I pulled her up on top of me for another deep kiss. We held that position for several minutes, kissing hungrily, until I noticed that her nipples felt hard against my chest. Holding her to me, I rolled us both over and slid down to take a nipple into my mouth. Her hand started to pull my head away, but I resisted, and in a moment I felt her muscles relaxing under me. I looked up and saw a blissful expression on her face and realized she must be experiencing what I had felt earlier. While still sucking and teasing one nipple, I reached down between her legs and started massaging her mound. Helen's breathing became faster and more labored as I worked, even though her other muscles were limp. I kept working on her, stroking and licking and sucking, until I realized that I had a hard-on again. I've never been hard again that soon after coming, but I wasn't about to question my good fortune just then. Instead, I got up on top of Helen and worked the tip of my stiff cock up and down her slit a few times. A sound I'd never heard before started coming out of Helen's mouth -- she was moaning with pleasure. With a sense of wonder, I did a few more up and down strokes and then buried my rod inside her. She gasped when she felt me penetrating, and her hips began flexing up and down automatically. I stayed low and well balanced, keeping my weight evenly distributed, and adapted quickly to her rhythm. Soon I felt the muscles in her groin clench as Helen burst into orgasm. I kept thrusting into her, watching her face, then was surprised to feel a surge in my balls as I came again, filling her with what little seed I had left. When we were both done, I slipped down next to Helen and held her tightly against me while our breathing returned to normal. I was almost asleep when I felt her get up, kiss my forehead, and head for the bathroom.
When the alarm clock woke me up Tuesday morning, I was still on my back, still naked, with a sticky bed sheet over me to let me know it wasn't just a dream. Helen stirred next to me, back in her customary nightgown. "You can shower first," she told me and dropped back into sleep.
While Helen finished getting ready for work, I made us each a bagel with cream cheese and a travel mug of coffee. We were running a little bit late and needed to make up some time. By the time we made it to the highway, our breakfast was done, and we had time to talk.
"How do you feel?" I asked as a general opening. I was thinking about what Madeline had said, about how we have trouble discussing intimate things. Would Helen keep it general, or was she thinking the same way I was?
"I feel good," she answered. "About last night..."
"Yes?" I did my best to sound encouraging.
"Did that feel ... strange ... to you?" she asked, looking around as if for hidden microphones.
"Strange doesn't cover it," I replied."I wasn't even thinking about doing anything when I came upstairs, but once I got into the bedroom, something came over me. I saw how you were looking at me, and that you weren't wearing a gown, and before I knew it, my clothes were on the floor and I was trying to jump your bones."
Helen was nodding. "I went upstairs to go to sleep, but when I got my regular clothes off, I just didn't want to put anything else on, so I got in bed naked. Then, when you came up, I couldn't stop watching you. The more clothes you took off, the more I wanted to, well, have you."
"And you did," I replied. "That really spooked me at first, not being able to move or do anything for you. I can't believe how fast you finished me off."
"I was just glad to see you relax and let me do things for you," she said. "I would have been perfectly happy if we had just gone to sleep after you... finished."
I kissed her hand. "I know. But as soon as I could move again, all I wanted was to return the favor. Did you get that dreamy, heavy feeling too?"
"Oh, yes. The more excited I got, the more I seemed to melt into the bed. I'm sure we can attribute that to Madeline's influence."
"I guess that's one way to avoid bedroom power struggles," I mused.
We let that soak in for a while. Afterwards, Helen kissed me on the cheek and turned on the radio. As usual, the traffic reports were too late to help us and the news was lame, but that morning it didn't bother me at all.
Our next contact from Madeline was a UPS package waiting for us when we got home that afternoon. Inside, we found a VHS tape and a handwritten note:
Dear Bob and Helen,
The enclosed tape is part of your adventure. It contains a number of hypnotic suggestions that will shape some of your experiences over the next few days. You should view it together at least once a day, or more often if you have the time. Choose a time when you can be alone and uninterrupted.
Your adventure begins now.
Madeline
The tape was clearly labeled "View Daily" in the same flowing script. We set it aside in the living room and put together a simple dinner. We were both curious about the tape, so we wasted no time getting things put away. By about seven-thirty, we had waited as long as we could stand. Helen locked up the house while I turned on the answering machine, setting the volume low. I grabbed a couple of extra pillows for the sofa and settled in to wait for Helen.
"Should we make popcorn?" I quipped as she took a seat beside me.
"Somehow I don't think it's that kind of movie," she answered.
Picking up the remote, she pushed the Play button. A few seconds of snow gave way to a black screen. The lights came up, and there was Madeline, sitting at her desk, just as we had left her the previous day. The camera zoomed in tight as Madeline looked straight at us and began speaking.
"Bob and Helen, this tape is a very important part of your program. It contains erotic suggestions that you will act on at appropriate times. I'm going to ask you to view this tape together at least once per day. The program lasts about 90 minutes; if you are not together and in a place where you will not be interrupted for at least that long, then please stop the tape now and begin again when you can pay complete attention. Do not start or stop the tape partway through, the sequence is important. Either one of you can view the tape alone if you have to, but I'd prefer you do it together. I'll pause 30 seconds while you decide whether this is a good time or not."
Helen and I just looked at each other and shrugged. Sure, we had an hour and a half to kill.
"Good. From this point, I'll assume that you are watching and that you are in a safe place, together, with no interruptions. Please make yourselves as comfortable as possible. Grab an extra pillow or a footrest, so that your whole body is supported. If you need more time to prepare, just pause the tape here."
We were pretty well nested in the sofa already, and starting to realize what was likely to happen to us in a few seconds. My cock swelled in anticipation.
"Clear your minds of every thought, please. Bob and Helen, sleep now..."
The familiar haze descended over my brain. I felt my body let go and melt into the sofa. All I remember is Madeline's voice, smooth and powerful, speaking directly into my mind. I had no idea what she was saying, but some part of me was paying attention and kept thinking, "Yes." Time has very little meaning in that state, but it felt as if I stayed under for a very long while. At one point, I was dimly aware of something heavy landing on my lap. Eventually, the voice stopped, and I felt myself rising up from the depths again. I opened my eyes in time to see Helen start to sit up -- she had fallen over, and her head had landed in my lap. Then Madeline's voice spoke, and we were plunged down into trance again, even deeper than before. Fractionation, I remembered she called it. We fractionated until I lost count of how many times, and then did it some more. Finally, we came up to stay, and found the VCR already rewinding.
Helen rose slowly, pushing herself up with her arms. One hand inadvertently landed right on the bulge occupied by my throbbing cock. "So that's what kept poking me in the head!" she remarked. "Somebody has been enjoying the movie a little too much." She rubbed me gently up and down through the pants. "Let's see if you saved anything for the encore." Still stroking my cock, she rose up and locked her lips around mine in a kiss that had to be rated NC-17. I was thrilled, but also confused -- Helen never makes love anywhere but the bedroom. Every time I try to start something in a different location, she always retreats to the bedroom before things get very far. But here she was, reaching in through my zipper on the living room sofa. I couldn't reach her tits the way she was sitting, so I reached up under her skirt and pulled her underwear down to her knees, our tongues dueling in our mouths the whole time. I heard a click and a few mechanical noises, but I was so engaged in trying to get my hand between Helen's thighs that it didn't register right away. We shifted position a little so that I was lying on my back with Helen perched above me. Her face looked like that of a predator in the moments before a kill -- an expression of intense concentration, excitement and unadulterated hunger. Somewhere in the background, Madeline started to speak, but neither of us paid any attention. Helen lifted herself up, shifted forward, and pounced on my rock-hard cock, gasping as she squeezed down. She rode me up and down twice, eyes locked on mine. Then, all of a sudden, her face went blank. I saw her start to fall over on top of me, but my own eyes were closing too...
And so we spent another 90 minutes, bodies still joined, while Madeline took us through the program once again. During the fractionating part, we barely had time to realize we were still coupled before passing out again on command. Finally, we awoke once again to the sound of the tape rewinding. My cock was still hard and still buried in Helen's box. "I've heard of coitus interruptus," I joked, "but this is ridiculous."
Shaking the sleep from her head, she glared back at me and squeezed me with her legs. "How long do you think we've got?" she asked, the look on her face rapidly changing from NC-17 to XXX.
"Probably 3 or 4 minutes before it starts running again."
Helen looked at the TV and appeared to make a decision. "Time enough." She resumed riding my cock, sliding up and down on it and squeezing hard while she arched her back. I took the opportunity to quickly separate her from her blouse and undo the front clasp on her bra, then took one tit in each hand and went to town on them. Helen shuddered and gasped and rode harder and faster until I couldn't stand it anymore. I heard the VCR click, and the idea of what might happen if we didn't hurry up pushed me over the edge. I came like a fire hose, seeing spots before my eyes while my body jerked and fired. At almost the same time, Helen started to twitch and her pussy alternately clenched and released, milking me as she came too. As we lay together trying to catch our breath, we heard Madeline begin speaking again, giving us 30 seconds to decide whether we had time for the video or not.
"See?" Helen said, still panting heavily. "We made it."
"We sure did," I agreed. "Where's the remote?"
Helen gave me a wide-eyed 'oh shit' look. "I thought you had it!"
"Not me." Wasting no time, we started probing between the couch cushions. I thought about getting up and hitting the stop button on the VCR, but with Helen on top of me, it would take more time than we probably had. When we still hadn't found it at the end of our 30 seconds, I gave up. "Screw it," I said, pulling Helen back down to my chest. "We can look... for it..." The darkness washed over me before I could finish the sentence.
It was after midnight when we woke up again to the sound of the VCR on rewind. This time we found the VCR remote -- on top of the VCR. Neither of us knew how it had gotten there, but the possibilities were pretty limited. Very sneaky, Madeline, I thought.
"So," Helen asked me in the morning as we joined the masses on the highway. "Whose fantasy was that last night -- yours?"
"I guess so," I answered, thinking it over. "I've had some pretty hot dreams where we start spontaneously doing it in various places other than the bedroom. Last night was the first time we've actually done it, though."
"You're right," she agreed. "Normally if we started getting frisky, I'd lead you back to the bedroom before we started taking things off."
"Why is that?" I asked, surprising myself a little. She thought about it before answering."I can't think of a single good reason," she told me. "I guess I just feel like that is the appropriate place for adults to make love."
"Did it bother you, doing that in the living room?"
"No, it didn't. I wasn't really thinking about where we were, just about how randy I was feeling after watching the video." When I didn't say anything more, she steered the talk in a different direction. "I remember feeling this hard lump poking my head when I fell over into your lap. Hypnosis is a major turn-on for you, isn't it?"
No point denying it, especially not with my cock starting to swell just from thinking about it again. "Yes, it is. Watching you go under was the hottest thing I've ever seen."
"What about going under hypnosis yourself?"
I had to think about that one a minute. "That was good too, but I think I enjoyed watching more. She put me out so fast I barely realized she was doing it and of course I don't remember a thing. With you, I could see you going deeper and deeper and obeying her every command. I almost lost it right there in the office. And the longer we talk about it the harder it is to drive, if you get my drift."
Taking a long, obvious look at the pup tent in my lap, she chuckled. "Wouldn't want to cause an accident, would we?" We practiced thinking pure thoughts for the rest of the trip.
Wednesday evening after dinner we sat back to watch our video. I woke up with a hard-on again, but we did not have a repeat of Tuesday night's fireworks. As soon as I was awake, I picked up the remote and turned off the VCR. I was almost out of the room before I realized the anomaly.
"Hey," I remarked out loud. "Did you see that?"
"See what?" Helen asked, coming back out from the kitchen.
"The VCR remote. It was right there between us."
"So?"
"So last night it magically moved itself to on top of the VCR."
"I wouldn't worry about it too much," she said. "All sorts of strange things seem to be happening this week. I'm going to bed now."
"Okay," I replied, kissing her goodnight. "I've got some work to catch up on, I'll be along later. If you need anything I'll be in the study."
My study is more of a playroom than a working room. Occupying one corner of an otherwise unfinished basement, it is a quiet place where I can read, think, or mess about on the computer. Sometimes, like that day, I bring some paperwork home and do it in there. I have a simple desk, which I made myself by laying a plain interior door on top of two cheap 2-drawer filing cabinets. One wall is covered with bookshelves, mostly full, from floor to ceiling. I have a nice adjustable office chair for the desk and a convertible sleeper sofa for company under the small hatch window.
I was just finishing up with my paperwork when Helen came down.
"I thought you were going to bed," I remarked, noticing that she was still fully dressed.
"I am," she replied. "But I think I need your help." She looked really confused.
"What can I do?"
"I can't seem to remember how to take these clothes off."
"Say what?"
"It's the oddest thing," she continued, her face showing clearly how puzzling this was to her. "I've been upstairs for almost an hour, and I just can't seem to remember how to get undressed. My hands don't know what to do."
"No problem, honey." I took a long look at her outfit: dark green skirt just above the knees, hose, and simple low-rise shoes on her feet. Above the skirt was a plain white button-down shirt, short-sleeved with a neckline that plunged just enough to show she had breasts. She was wearing a jade necklace and matching bracelet that I'd given her for a birthday long ago. "Why don't we start with the shoes?"
I had Helen lift her left foot and demonstrated for her how to remove a shoe. Then she switched, raising her right foot. Her arm reached down toward the shoe, but stopped part way. "I can't seem to do this," she said. "It just won't work."
So I reached over and took the shoe off for her. That earned me a grateful look. "What next?" she asked.
"Let's get rid of the skirt."
"Okay." Helen turned her back to me and lifted her arms, allowing me to unzip the skirt at the rear and let it drop. Once it was on the floor, she had no difficulty kicking it aside.
"Those panty hose look uncomfortable, let's do them next." Helen turned to face me and I gently rolled the panty hose down over her hips and pushed them toward her feet. My face came very close to Helen's crotch and I caught a strong scent of sexual excitement. This was getting to be fun.
The blouse came next, unbuttoning easily and sliding off Helen's shoulders. She was wearing an off-white lace-trimmed bra and matching hip hugger panties. I could see both nipples clearly outlined in the soft fabric of the bra cups. I stood up, and Helen turned her back to me to give me easier access to the back closure on her bra. When she did, the slick smoothness of her panties brushed sweetly against my crotch. I undid the hooks and then put my hands on the straps, pulling them off Helen's shoulders and down her arms. When my hands reached the level of her tits, I let go of the bra and cupped one hand around each tit. The nipples were hard already, and she moaned when I started to knead them. Her head lolled back and I started planting gentle kisses up and down the side of her neck. The moaning picked up and I knew she was ready to finish.
"Sit down on the couch," I suggested to her, "and raise your hips." She obeyed. The dazed, aroused look on her face and the sight of her hard nipples distracted me for a moment, but I soon grabbed onto the waistband of her panties and pulled them off, savoring the strong smell of the juices they were steeped in. Putting my hands under her ass, I pulled her up to me and started kissing her on the mound, on the thighs, inside the thighs. I hadn't tried eating Helen since that first disastrous effort some years before, but I decided then to give it another try. I took a deep breath and started to move my face into position, but I just couldn't quite do it. I didn't gag, but the feeling of helplessness, of not knowing what to do, was still there and I couldn't shake it off. Frustrated, I became determined to make it up to her. Already on my knees, I pushed my own pants and underwear down to the floor, straightened up, and guided Helen down onto my loaded barrel. The height of the couch was just perfect for this position, letting Helen's weight rest against me without pushing me over. I could tell I was penetrating way deeper than normal and Helen confirmed that by clutching and moaning. After a thrust or two, I felt a warm spot pressing against the top of my cock; every time I brushed against it, Helen would gasp sharply. It didn't take long before the gasping gave way to shuddering as Helen came, moaning and squeezing me between her legs. Once I knew she was coming, I relaxed and in a few moments enjoyed my own release. Our bodies twitched and rocked together as we lost ourselves in the sensations.
Afterwards, she slid off the couch and we ended up sitting on the floor in a knot made of arms and legs, our backs resting against the couch. We sat there for quite a while, still panting from the exertion.
"That was really good," Helen said, surprise in her voice.
"You're damn right that was good," I agreed. "Boy was that good."
Another deep sigh or two followed, then Helen made a tentative sound. "Bob?"
"Hmm?"
"It's okay that you didn't ... with your mouth."
She had noticed. "Guess I've still got a few inhibitions to work on. I'll get there someday."
"It's okay," she repeated. "I don't want you to feel like you have to."
"Do you like being ... done ... that way?"
"I don't know," she answered. "I've never really had it but once or twice, and I don't think he was especially good at it. I don't miss it, but sometimes I do wonder about it."
"I understand."
"But it's not that important," she added sternly. "If we never do that, I'll still be happy with what we have. Never forget that, Bob."
"I won't," I promised, but silently vowed that somehow, someday I would figure out how to do it and do it well. We sat quietly for a while, then went to bed tired but happy.
"That must have been a strange feeling," I remarked to Helen the next morning as we inched our way down the highway. "Not being able to do something so simple."
"Very strange," Helen agreed. "It was like that part of my brain just short-circuited. I was fine in every other way, but I just couldn't figure out how to get my clothes off. After a while it just sort of hit me that the answer was to get you to do it for me."
"Any time you need that kind of help, I'm your guy."
"Why does that turn you on so much?" she asked. "What difference does it make who undresses whom?" Her tone conveyed sincere curiosity rather than recrimination.
"I'm not 100 percent sure," I told her, still thinking. "Part of the fun is in the feeling that I am seducing you in stages, getting both of us more excited with everything that comes off. Another part is probably just the thrill of doing something you don't usually let me do."
"That's true," she mused, "I usually just get naked and jump right into things."
"But sometimes it's more fun to go slowly," I said. "A slow undressing helps to set the mood. It's a chance to touch and to be touched, and not just in those couple of hot spots. Does that make sense?"
"I think it does. It was really nice feeling your hands run down my legs and over my shoulders. It was very ... arousing." She turned just a little pink as the last word came out.
"It would be really hot if we were to try undressing each other.""We'll have to do that some time soon," Helen agreed. I looked over, amused but not surprised to see a wistful smile on her face.
Intimate Adventures Part 4
I knew Thursday was going to be a slow day. One of the bigger liberal interest groups was planning a rally and demonstration downtown. The group's spokespeople had the local news stations predicting half a million protesters and all kinds of major traffic problems. For most people with any seniority, it was a good time to take a day of leave. For the rest of us, it was a good time to catch up on backed-up paperwork.
To my mind it was a great day for a protest: 96 degrees, 95 percent humidity. There's no worse place to be than in DC on a day like that. We left the house a little earlier than normal to allow some extra time, but it turned out to be unnecessary; despite the fact that Helen's office is only about 3 blocks from the White House and mine is right across the street from it, we had no problem getting around.
As I suspected, there was very little intelligent life in my building. I spent the entire morning and early afternoon hip-deep in the endless administrative minutiae of government processes. If I ever meet one of the bastards who passed the so-called Paperwork Reduction Act I'll personally stuff a wad of new forms up his pigeonhole. Anyway, by 2:30 I could see a light at the end of the inbox. The phone rang; Helen's number came up on the display, so I answered quickly. "Hi, Honey. What's up?"
"Nothing yet," she answered. "Anything happening on your side?"
"Nope," I replied, looking out the window. "Maybe they got a taste of the weather and wimped out."
"No meetings or anything this afternoon?"
"No such luck. Even that would be better than facing this pile of dead trees."
She chuckled softly. "Poor baby. I was just thinking about how great it would feel to impale myself on your thick, hard cock."
BAM! Like a Mike Tyson uppercut, Helen's comment came from nowhere and knocked me senseless. I was shocked to hear Helen actually say the word 'cock', let alone use it in a sentence, let alone in that sentence, let alone on the telephone. At the same time I felt an immediate, powerful jolt in my groin, and before I could draw breath my cock was indeed thick and hard and aching to bury itself in Helen's pussy.
Helen's voice took on a sense of urgency. "Wouldn't that feel just incredible, lover, to pound that massive cock of yours into me right now? Over and over, harder and faster, getting hotter and hotter as we go?" Still too stunned to speak, now I found my imagination running wild with visions of me and Helen locked together at the hips. "Feel your hands squeezing my breasts, making me so excited, so wet, so hungry for your body. Feel my hands tickling up and down your immense shaft, making you so ready you just know you're going to explode any second. Feel the pressure building, building, building ..."
As Helen talked, the sensations in my crotch got more and more powerful and after a few moments I realized that I really was feeling things as if she was right there with me, giving me the screwing of a lifetime. I could feel her wet pussy squeezing down on my dick, see her nipples pointing straight out as she rocked up and down. I started to shake my head, trying to clear it, but quickly saw it was useless. Instead I just let go to my wife's voice, my hips starting to flex in rhythm as she kept talking to me.
"Oh, Bob, this is so incredible. I feel SO good with your big dick inside me, it's so HUGE, so HOT. I think it's going to make me COME any second." A series of progressively louder moans filled my ears and my brain; for a few seconds she was really there on top of me in all her naked glory, jamming herself down on my cock over and over and coming loudly. I felt the heaviness start creeping into me again and knew what was about to happen, so I just took a deep breath and relaxed with it. Almost immediately my cock jerked and fired round after round of semen, soaking my underwear and causing a sticky wet spot to form in the front of my pants. I sat there and rode it out, still clutching the phone to my ear, groaning every breath.
Before I could assemble a coherent sentence, I heard Helen smooch the phone. "Thanks for coming, lover," she purred. "I'll see you after work." Then the line went dead.
I think I sat there for 20 minutes with the idle phone in my hand, staring into space and wondering what the aliens had done with my wife. The image of Madeline as a mad scientist, controlling our minds and altering our personalities, filled my senses. The idea was both frightening and arousing -- enough so that I felt my dick starting to press against the soggy front of my pants again. I looked at the stain and shook my head ruefully; it looked like I'd be spending the afternoon right behind that desk.
Thanks to the high absentee rate and my dark blue pants, I was able to escape the office with my dignity intact. I made for the parking garage with head held high and briefcase held low, arriving in time to see Helen tip the attendant and slip behind the wheel. She waved at me with a big, loving smile on her face.
Once we were on the road, Helen's hand reached over and lightly held mine. It felt nice, so I gave hers a little squeeze. "So," Helen began to ask, "How was your afternoon?" Her face was all sweetness.
I made a show of thinking about it before answering. "Pretty boring, really. Except for when some lust-crazed woman mistook my office number for a phone sex hotline."
Helen shrugged. "An honest mistake, I'm sure." For a split second I thought she didn't remember the phone call, but the gleam in her eye told me she was pulling my leg.
"Oh, yes. Perfectly natural. So many nubile women call me to fulfill their sexual needs."
"Maybe she was trying to fulfill your sexual needs," Helen countered.
"Maybe indeed, but why over the phone? The hands-on approach has been working so well lately."
Helen's face took on a curious look, like she was asking herself that very question and wasn't sure of the answer. "I don't know," she finally concluded. "Things were a little slow, and I kept thinking about what's happened this week. All week we've been doing things I never thought we'd do, saying things I never thought I'd have the nerve to say."
"It is pretty amazing," I agreed. "What prompted you to take it that far?"
"I really don't know. It was a normal day up to then; at one point I found myself dialing the phone and just went for it. I've always wanted to try something like that with you, but I was always afraid you'd think it was too kinky."
"Before this week, I probably would have."
"And now?" Her face looked a little nervous.
I took an extra deep breath and let it out slowly. "I started out in shock, but I have to admit it grew on me. Let's try it again the next time one of us goes out of town."
"Count on it," she replied with a wicked grin.
It was the kind of day when air conditioners were so overworked that you didn't dare cook in the kitchen, so we stopped for some Italian carryout on the way home. Helen set the table while I got cleaned up from my afternoon surprise.
After dinner we retired to the living room and put on the Madeline video. It knocked us out cold after the 30-second warning and kept us that way until the tape started to rewind itself. Something didn't feel quite right, though. I looked at my watch. "Are you sure that's the same tape we've been using, Helen?"
She looked at me curiously. "It's the only one we have, isn't it? Why?"
"Something strange. I didn't check the time when we started, but it doesn't feel like we were out of it for an hour and a half."
"What time is it now?"
"My watch says 7:44."
"Why don't we find out?" Instead of pushing the Eject button on the VCR she hit Play, then scuttled back to the couch and snuggled against me. The fog descended and we let ourselves drift away.
As soon as I realized we were awake, I checked my watch again. "8:19," I observed. "Barely 35 minutes. The original tape was an hour and a half."
"Maybe she has us fast-forwarding through some of it now," Helen suggested.
"Or maybe someone is changing the tape for us."
I went up to bed at the same time as Helen for a change, slipping off my clothes as usual while she was using the bathroom. By the time I was down to my briefs I was feeling randy; I could hear Helen brushing her teeth, so I dropped my drawers and joined her in the bathroom. She had already changed into a cotton granny gown and panties. As soon as she put her toothbrush and cup down I put my arms around her from behind and started kissing the nape of her neck.
"Didn't you get enough this afternoon?" she asked, laughing and smiling broadly.
"It was kind of one-sided, wasn't it?"
"Not entirely," she replied.
"Oh?" That was a surprise. "You mean you ... came?"
Helen giggled. "No. I just got really, really hot listening to you."
"Then I owe you one." Suddenly an idea struck me; I put my mouth right next to Helen's ear and whispered, "Relax." As if I'd thrown a switch, Helen let out a blissful sigh and collapsed into my waiting arms. Her legs just folded and her head fell back on me. Thanks to the position I had it was easy to catch her, but I was still surprised at how heavy she felt. I assumed from the dead weight that she was unconscious. As gently as I could, I carried her over to the bed and laid her down. She wasn't asleep, I discovered, just dazed. Her eyes were open and staring straight up at nothing in particular.
"Payback time, lover," I told her. Her granny gown had large soft buttons running down the entire length of the front. I started at the hem and worked my way up, undoing the buttons.When I had the last one undone, I gently laid the gown open and stopped to admire my work. Helen's nipples were already erect, and her breathing had deepened; I took that as a sign that I was on the right track. As gently as I could, I slipped my hands inside the waistband of her hip huggers and worked them down her legs and off. It was harder than on recent nights because Helen couldn't help me, but I managed well enough. The crotch of the panties was damp to the touch.
"Close your eyes and just feel," I said to Helen, and her eyes fluttered shut. Kneeling on the floor beside her, I opened up my right hand and laid it palm down on her abdomen. Slowly, deliberately, I started to move my hand in a circular motion, just a little at first, and I heard Helen sigh and her breathing become slower and easier. Gradually, I let the circle get larger and larger, letting my hand brush ever so lightly against the bottoms of her breasts and the top of her thatch. Helen's nipples grew stiff and hard, and I could smell the juices flowing between her thighs. I decided to have another try at going down on her.
Parting her thighs with great care, I maneuvered myself onto the bed from the foot end and eased my way up to her slit. I got my nose right in there and took a deep breath; her scent was strong, but sweet and inviting. There was no hint of the unpleasant reaction I'd previously had. Tentatively, I reached out with the tip of my tongue until it made contact with a coarse, curled pubic hair. What are you doing? I asked myself. The truth was, I didn't know. I pulled my head back and looked closely at Helen's pussy, half hoping for some kind of 'Lick Here' sign. There wasn't one, of course. How was I supposed to figure this out?
Just being there was a victory, so I accepted that much and opted for a more familiar technique. I went back to my kneeling position next to her, put my right hand over her pussy and started to massage it slowly. I put a little extra pressure on the mound, and Helen started to moan her appreciation. With my left hand, I started working on her nearest breast, squeezing and kneading, pinching the nipple gently between my fingers. When Helen's moans had gotten nice and loud and deep, I leaned over and put my mouth where my left hand had been, sucking hard on her breast, letting my tongue flick the nipple around. Helen's throat opened, and each breath became an "Oohhhh", getting higher-pitched and faster the more I worked. When she sounded about ready to burst, I slipped my middle finger straight into her slot and pressed in hard, reaching for that spot near the top. I pegged it the first time, and Helen climaxed, crying out loudly again and again. After three or four cries, I was startled to feel a surge in my balls and suddenly my cock unloaded, spewing semen into the bedspread while I clung to Helen's body to keep my balance. I felt the muscles in my groin clench in sync with Helen's panting, slowing gradually until we were both limp and still. I was about to get up when I heard Helen speak.
"That was intense," she said, turning her head to face me.
"For me too," I replied truthfully. I still couldn't believe I'd come all over the side of the bed.
Helen's face took on an expression of wonder. "Can you do that again?"
Why not? "Sure, honey. Relax."
Helen's face blanked as her head dropped back to the bed, and I happily performed an encore for her. This time I brought her right to the edge and then slipped my revived cock into her at the last moment, thrusting deep while she shuddered and came again. I rode her until she stilled, having a second small orgasm of my own in the process. When we were both finished, I flopped my exhausted body down next to Helen and snuggled against her.
"Do you have any idea how that felt?" Helen asked after a while, her voice quiet and full of wonder.
"Maybe a slight one. Why don't you tell me?"
She blew a long sigh up toward the ceiling. "It was like Monday night, but even more so. I couldn't move a muscle, not for anything. My whole body just turned to jelly. My mind got lost in this wonderful, warm fog. I knew what was going on, but I couldn't do anything about it if I'd wanted to. And then when you touched me..."
"Yes?"
"It was like nothing else existed except my body and your hands. I was so tuned in I didn't hear anything or see anything or think anything except about how good your hands felt on my body. I've never felt like that before." Turning her head weakly, she gave me a loving smile. "Thank you."
I returned the look gladly. "Thank you too." We went to sleep in each other's arms.
Friday was another slow day, which isn't unusual for the summer. The mass migration to the beach usually begins Thursday night, so the Friday traffic was about half normal. Taking advantage of the light workload, I called up Helen and persuaded her to meet me for lunch at the Bottom Line, a cozy little restaurant and bar on I Street. I had a Texas Chicken sandwich, which is excellent there, and some fries; Helen went for the French onion soup and a hearty salad. We lingered over our iced tea after the dishes were cleared away, just holding hands and talking about nothing in particular.
"This is nice," I said at one point. "We should do things like this more."
"Mm hm. The way we went to sleep last night was good too. I felt so comfortable, so safe. I didn't miss my nightgown at all."
"Me neither. I like going to sleep in your arms. It makes me feel very loved and wanted."
Helen's face lit up in a broad smile. "Will you just listen to us?" We started laughing at ourselves.
Friday evening was video night. A couple of times a month, Helen and I get together with Larry and Peg; one couple acts as hosts, the other brings a rented movie or two. It's a cheap night out that doesn't put a lot of pressure on anybody to be sociable.
Helen and I stopped at the video outlet on the way home and cruised the aisle in and around the New Releases section. Helen seized a tape almost immediately and held it out to me: "Look Bob -- Titanic."
I feigned retching for a few seconds, and she took pity on me, returning the godawful thing to its undeserved place on the shelf. "We've had chick flicks a couple times in a row now," I complained. "Let's get something with some action, some suspense. A dead body or two would be nice."
"Not to mention gratuitous nudity and sex?"
"Only if it's in good taste," I insisted playfully. Another new release, Kiss the Girls, caught my eye. "How about this one? It's got Morgan Freeman." I've been a Morgan Freeman fan ever since he was E.Z. Reader on 'The Electric Company', a short-lived PBS program. (Out of respect for Mr. Freeman, I won't tell you exactly how long ago that was.) After seeing The Shawshank Redemption, Helen became a Freeman fan too.
"That's almost too perfect," she remarked. There was a bit of a line at the checkout counter, so I decided to go start the car and get the AC working. I was about to summon up a search party when she finally emerged, looking furtively each way before crossing the street. She tossed the bag into the back seat.
By 6:45, we had finished a light dinner at home, which was normal for movie night. Show time is usually 8:00, and it takes about 10 minutes to get to Larry and Peg's from our place. I thought we were getting ready to go, but then Helen plopped down on the couch and motioned for me to join her.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"We need to watch our Madeline video," she answered.
I pointed to the wall clock over the TV. "We don't have time now, we'll be late."
She looked up at me with a hurt expression. "If we wait until we get home, we'll be too tired. Are you coming?" She started the tape without me, which meant I had something like 30 seconds to either join her or get out of earshot. I opted to join her, making my way to the couch just in time to feel the world go spinning away.
"Hey," I remarked while the VCR rewound. "It's 7:40. The tape got longer again."
"It did?" Helen responded, still blinking the sleep out of her eyes. "We still have time, though."
We zipped off to the bedroom to change. I put on a pair of casual slacks, walking shoes, and a pocket tee; no undershirt, it was a very hot and sticky evening. Helen changed into a bright yellow tube top and cutoff denim shorts, an outfit she usually reserves strictly for inside the house on the hottest of days. She used a lightweight button-down shirt to cover her arms and shoulders, tucking it in at the waist but not buttoning any buttons.
"That's a pretty sexy outfit," I observed.
"Do you think so?" She looked herself over in the dressing mirror from a couple of angles. "It's so hot out that I don't want to have too much on. Does it look too trampy?"
"No way. It looks cool and comfortable, and easy to take off."
That brought a smile to her face. "Maybe later," she said.
It was 7:55 when we rang the bell at Larry and Peg's place with our video bag in hand. Larry was dressed much like I was, ready for a casual evening's entertainment. Peg looked admiringly at Helen's outfit. "I can't believe how good you look," she told Helen. "I tried a tube once, but I kept popping out of it."
"You have a lot more up front than I do," Helen answered. That was true. Helen is right about average, each breast measuring a little bigger than a handful. Peg is a breast lover's delight; she must be at least a DD cup with hips to match. "It makes a difference. See?" Helen tugged a few times at the front of the tube top. It stretched suggestively but didn't fall. I felt the first stirrings of arousal in my groin.
Larry cleared his throat elaborately."I hate to interrupt this titillating conversation," he began, giving us a moment to express our collective agony at his choice of words, "but I believe we have a schedule to keep."
It took us until 8:10 or so to grab some pretzels and drinks and settle down in the living room. Larry and Peg have one of those big L-shaped pit group sofas, so Helen and I sat together on one side and they took the other. The video equipment was in a freestanding armoire turned diagonally in the opposite corner, which made for great viewing angles from anywhere you could sit.
"I'll do the honors," Helen volunteered, grabbing the bag from the video store. She stepped quickly up to the VCR, took a tape out of the bag, and pushed it in. Larry hit Play on the remote while Helen sat back down.
"So what are we watching tonight, Helen?" Larry asked.
"It's a surprise," she said. "I hope you like it."
We all kept talking while the standard FBI warning filled the screen. Eventually the preliminaries ended, and the screen picture changed to an aerial view of a major highway. As it zoomed down, it centered on a small sports car with a very cute redhead in a tight leotard at the wheel. She was bopping to loud music from her stereo. Suddenly, she looked back and saw a police car behind her with lights and siren blazing. She pulled over, and the cop car stopped behind her. She rolled down her window as a highway patrolman approached the car.
"License and registration, please, Miss," the officer deadpanned.
The redhead looked scared as she handed over the documents. "Was I doing something wrong, officer?"
The cop consulted her license. "Miss Burton, do you know the speed limit on this highway?"
"Sixty-five?" She had a hopeful look on her face, but it dissolved into dread as the officer shook his head slowly.
"No, Miss Burton, the 65 mile an hour zone ended when you got within the city limits. The speed limit on this part of the highway is 55. I clocked you at 72."
The redhead broke into tears. "Oh, please, Officer, please don't give me another ticket. If I get another ticket, I'm going to lose my license, and if I lose my license, I'll lose my job, and then my apartment, and everything. I'll do anything if you would just let me go without a ticket."
The camera zoomed in on the cop's face, the redhead's terrified expression mirrored in his reflective sunglasses. "I'm not in a position to offer you any leniency, Miss, but things may go easier for you if you'll just talk to the judge."
The girl started crying and pleading even louder, and the cop hushed her. "Allow me to introduce His Honor."
The cop's hand went down to his belt. After opening his zipper, he pulled out a really impressive-looking erect cock and aimed it right through the window. The redhead's face took on a look of wonder, then her lips formed an O, and she took the entire length into her mouth. The camera cut back to an aerial shot, and we heard a series of muffled moans and gasps of increasing intensity. Finally, a big musical chord was struck, and the word "LAWMEN" appeared in huge yellow letters.
"That was not Morgan Freeman," Helen observed, but she made no effort to get up and correct the mistake. I looked over at Larry and Peg, expecting shock and maybe annoyance. Instead, they were watching intently as the opening credits rolled down the screen. From their expressions, you'd think they were watching a Disney film. I thought briefly about getting up myself to change the tape, but it just never translated into action.
The film turned out to be a series of loosely connected incidents similar to the opening sequence. There were so many lurid sex scenes that it's hard to remember exactly what happened and in what order, but rest assured that no avenue of intercourse that I'd ever heard of was left unexplored. Hardcore porn like that usually does nothing for me, and at first, this was no exception.
About halfway through the movie, though, I felt Helen shift in the seat next to me. She leaned forward a little and pulled off her shirt, fanning herself with it and blotting up little bits of sweat from her upper chest before setting it aside. She also scooted closer to me and snuggled up against my side, pulling my right arm around her. My hand was right there at the top edge of her tube, tantalizingly close to the swell of her breast. I didn't do anything about it right away, but I was definitely getting ideas.
Another scene began, this one involving three cops and a prostitute. The hooker took one cop in her mouth, another in her box, and had the third one rubbing his cock between her tits. The coarse, unreal stupidity of it all didn't impress me, but with Helen's scantily clad body up against me, I was starting to get seriously worked up. Then Helen's hand found the beginnings of an erection in my pants, and she rubbed on it, slowly and smoothly, getting me hard as a fencepost. I looked over at Larry and Peg apprehensively, but they were intent on watching the movie.
As Helen kept rubbing my cock, I found myself growing more and more aroused. I bit my lip, thought about baseball, all those things that guys do to try and control their hormones, but none of them worked. I imagined how Larry and Peg might react if they looked over and saw what we were doing, and instead of helping that made things worse; I felt the growing sexual need overpowering my growing fears, just as it had on Monday night. Helen's free hand took mine and guided it straight to the bulge in her tube top. When I felt the swell of her breast under my hand, I think my cock grew an inch, and suddenly I didn't care who else was in the room or what they might see or do. In fact, in a few seconds, I switched from fondling her through the tube to sliding my hand inside the tube, feeling her up with the same intensity she was using on me. She responded by pulling down my zipper and reaching through, parting the cloth panels in front of my briefs to get a direct grip on my shaft. God, that felt good! I undid the clasp at the waist to give her more maneuvering room down there, and she took full advantage right away.
I had her tube top pushed completely out of the way now and was fondling her tits with both hands. A sense of great urgency and desire took over me, and I lowered one hand to Helen's shorts, undoing the snap and working the zipper so I could snake my hand inside her. The hand on my cock clamped down hard; I felt her hips rise, and before I knew it, her shorts and underwear were down around her ankles. That gave me a clear and easy angle, so I took it, sliding my fingers right down her slit and in. We both started moaning, but still Larry and Peg didn't notice.
The fist locked around my cock was really getting to me, so I cast aside my last shreds of humility and lifted my butt. Helen stopped stroking long enough to help me get my pants and underwear down, then she pulled my hand out of her box and stood up, glaring down at me with more lust in her face than I ever thought possible. She crept forward again, kneeling astride me on the couch, and pulled my head forward until I had a mouthful of breast. I sucked and licked and teased, listening to Helen's moans get louder and faster and feeling the juices running down her legs onto mine. After a while, she rose up and dropped herself down hard on my lightning rod, shivering as it seated deep inside her. Our hips started rocking in unison, slow at first but growing faster and faster. All that stroking had made me so hot there was no way I could have held out very long; I shuddered and let fly with a long, sustained series of spasms. Helen was right with me, twitching and groaning loudly with her own climax as she pumped me dry.
It took me a few minutes to regain awareness of our surroundings. Helen was slumped over me, still panting as she came back to earth. My dick was still in her but had resumed 'at ease' status. Her underpants and shorts were caught around one ankle, and her tube top was a yellow band around her midriff.
The movie was still going on. Our heroes had busted a drug lab and were hip-deep (literally) in teenage girls, mostly from the rear. Clouds of white powder filled the air as they swept the packages aside to make more room on the tables for the girls. Larry and Peg continued to watch intently, from all appearances completely unaware of what Helen and I had been doing.
I felt Helen stir and joined her for a deep, satisfying kiss. "Wow," she sighed.
After a minute or so, we both got up to fix our clothing. There was a big wet spot on the couch where we had been; we cleaned up the couch and ourselves as best we could using washcloths and water from the powder room. We returned to our seats fully dressed just in time for the closing credits.
At the end of the credits, the tape ended abruptly. Larry and Peg jerked back to awareness at the snap of the auto-rewind kicking in. Shaking their heads as if to clear them, they looked over at us with mild awe.
"That was a very... interesting movie," Peg offered, in a tone that made the most of the word 'interesting'. She didn't seem offended, just perplexed.
"Definitely," Larry agreed. "Crude, vulgar, sick, but somehow fascinating. I couldn't take my eyes off it."
Helen and I exchanged a knowing look and decided it was time to go home. We hadn't made any specific plans, but when Helen climbed into bed naked again, I decided to follow suit. We scooted close together and held each other, letting our bodies touch from head to toe like we had before. I didn't feel any burning need to start anything, and apparently, neither did Helen, so we just cuddled together and luxuriated in the skin-to-skin contact.
"So when did you become a fan of porno?" I asked, keeping my tone of voice light.
"I didn't," she answered."I thought I was putting on Kiss the Girls. That's what the box said it was. Somebody must have accidentally switched the boxes."
That didn't sound very likely to me, but I could easily imagine why Helen might believe it. "I wonder if Madeline was in the video store."
"We'd remember seeing her, wouldn't we?"
"Not necessarily." I remembered the receptionist's answer when I asked if Madeline had hypnotized her: Probably more often than I realize.
"It surprised me how much I got turned on watching that movie," Helen continued. "What little porno I'd seen before tonight always left me wanting a shower to wash off the slime."
"Same here. What surprised me even more, though, was when your hand landed in my lap. What were you thinking?"
Helen took a deep breath before answering. "I wasn't thinking, not really. I was warm, so I took off the top shirt. Then I wanted you to hold me, so I snuggled in. I wasn't really paying attention to my hands until I suddenly became aware that we were fondling each other. After a while I got so stirred up that I just forgot there were two other people in the room. I completely lost control."
"Me too," I replied. "It was scary at first, but you got me so turned on that eventually I just didn't care. Larry and Peg could have been staring right at us and holding a camcorder, it wouldn't have stopped anything."
"I hope we didn't freak them out too much."
"I'm not sure they even realized what we were doing." I wondered if Madeline had worked with Larry and Peg too.
Saturday is shopping and errand day for us, as it seems to be for everyone in the Washington metro area. It was my turn to do the running around, but for some reason I asked Helen if she'd like to come along. To my surprise, she agreed immediately.
So we cruised up and down the Rockville Pike together, holding hands a lot and enjoying each other's company. We took my watch to the jeweler for cleaning, had the oil changed in the car, returned our rented video, then headed for the big Giant Food off Randolph Road. Normally the grocery stores are jam-packed on a Saturday, but on that day things were not really all that busy. Maybe a lot of people went to the beach for the weekend.
We started out in the produce section. There were enough people in the aisle to make it difficult to move the cart through, so Helen had me wait in one place while she picked out some apples, carrots and bananas. She came back with three neatly tied plastic bags. "Who was that?"
"Who was who?" I replied, confused.
"The woman you were just talking to," she explained. "The blonde in the wind suit. She was right here with you a minute ago, then she went over toward the next aisle."
This wasn't helping. "I don't remember any woman," I said truthfully.
Helen's eyes blanked for a heartbeat or so. "No, of course not. My mistake." A quick shake of the head brought the sharp focus back. "Let's see, lettuce... we need some fresh lettuce." The crowd had thinned a little, so I followed her to the lettuce bin.
Helen is a very picky shopper. The lettuce bin was full of fresh heads of lettuce, all of which looked fine to me, but she took her time picking through several before deciding to go for one on the upper deck of the display area. Helen was dressed very casually in white running shorts and a bright red halter top, and I found myself enjoying the view as she stretched to reach a head of lettuce down from the top of the pile. Looking it over carefully, she nodded her approval and turned to show me her prize.
Without thinking, my mouth opened and I heard my own voice: "Have I mentioned to you lately that you have a delicious-looking ass?"
Helen's reaction was immediate and powerful. With a sharp intake of breath, I saw her face change from innocent pleasure to shock and surprise, which in a second or two gave way to something else entirely. Her skin flushed, her mouth fell open a little, and her eyes locked themselves onto mine. Then they started to smolder. Moving like a huntress, she placed the lettuce in the shopping cart and walked around it slowly to where I stood. Looping her right arm around my neck, she pressed her body tightly against mine and pulled my face down to hers. Her lips parted on contact and I felt her tongue exploring my mouth. After getting over the initial shock of such a hot kiss in such a public place, I returned the embrace. Without breaking the kiss, she reached back with her left hand, took hold of my right, and moved it from the small of her back to right under her ass, then wiggled it up and down. Afraid of drawing an audience, I took back my hand and with no small effort managed to disengage myself from her clutches.
"Take me now," she demanded, backing me up against the produce bin.
"Easy, girl," I replied. "Save some of that for at home."
"I can't save it. I don't want to save it. I want you."
"Do you want to get arrested? Come on, we're almost done here." I made a determined show of grabbing the shopping cart handle firmly and heading for the meat department, hoping the cart would conceal my hard-on. Helen hesitated for a moment, looking around at the other shoppers in the area (who in turn were trying not to look as though they had been watching us). I made it as far as the poultry case before she caught up with me.
"You don't understand," she insisted, cupping her hand over my package. "I need this inside me now. Not tonight, not when we get home, right now." My cock didn't help things any; at Helen's touch it snapped to attention. "If you don't find us a broom closet or something in the next few seconds I'll rip my clothes off and jump you right here."
My mind flashed back to the night before, when we had been overcome with lust at Larry and Peg's house. My brain sputtered trying to come up with an idea as Helen pressed her body against me and openly stroked my cock. I could feel myself responding to her and knew there was no way I was going to keep this under control. Just as Helen started pulling at the waistband of her shorts, my eye fell on the unmarked doorway at the back of the meat section and I remembered what was behind it. Grabbing my wife by both wrists, I led her quickly through the doorway like a child with a potty emergency (which it was, in a manner of speaking). Fingers crossed, I bowled through the door marked "Men" with Helen right behind me.
The bathroom was fairly small, with two stalls and a urinal against one side and a double sink and mirror opposite. Fortunately for us it was unoccupied at the moment. Turning her back to the mirror, Helen pulled me close and started feverishly fumbling with my pants. No sooner did they hit the floor than I felt one of her hands lock around my cock in a death grip and start pumping. Helen's sudden fury was amazing and arousing -- I was rock hard already and nothing mattered anymore except getting my dick into Helen immediately. I helped her push her shorts down, followed closely by her underwear. The panties left a wet smear along the insides of her thighs on the way down.
She squatted down and turned her attention to my briefs, pulling them roughly down to my knees. Pulling herself tightly against me she slowly stood up, kissing and licking my thigh. For a second I thought she might take me into her mouth, but she passed over my cock and kept licking and kissing up my belly and chest as she rose. It was probably just as well; Helen's condition had me so hot I probably would have lost it right then if she had sucked me.
Once she was standing up again she guided my right hand to the back of her neck and squeezed on it. Taking my cue, I grabbed her by the nape of the neck and pulled her face up to me for a strong, open-mouthed kiss. Her face melted into mine and she let out a deep, stirring, whole-body sigh. I started to ease off, thinking I was getting too rough, but she pressed even harder against me in protest. Turning my own head sideways, she placed her mouth right over my ear and whispered, "Take me from behind."
My inner voice cried out, "Do what?!" but there was no time for discussion as Helen had already spun around and was leaning over the sink, pressing her ass against me and rubbing herself on my shaft. Reaching between her legs, she guided my cock into her slit and pushed back more, burying my sword to the hilt.
She kept thrusting harder and faster, balancing on the edge of the sink with both hands and hooking her feet behind my calves. I had one hand on the counter myself for support but the other was free, so I reached around and up inside her halter top and squeezed a handful of tit. I heard a raw, animal-type noise and realized that Helen was starting to moan loudly. I let go of her tit and clamped my free hand over her mouth, worried that the noise would draw attention to us. That seemed to turn her on even more; she continued moaning even more lustily into my hand.
Five or six strokes later, the moans turned into a series of muffled squeals as Helen came, squeezing my shaft with all her might and biting at my palm. Pulling her to me out of some animal instinct, I thrust into her one more time and exploded, pulsing with each squirt between her trembling thighs.
We had maybe ten seconds to recover when I heard a single loud knock on the door, followed shortly by a male voice coming from outside: "It's right here, Jason, let's hurry up." Helen dropped off the counter and together we grabbed our discarded clothes and bolted for the handicapped stall. We were just in time -- the door opened and we heard a man and a young boy enter the rest room. We sat together on the commode, Helen on my lap, trying to be silent but betrayed by our still-heavy breathing.The guy must have heard us, because he rushed the kid through a quick pee and practically dragged him out again without even washing his hands.
Helen and I looked at each other and broke into uncontrollable laughter, holding each other for support. When the giddiness passed, we put our clothes back on and made a discreet exit. Our shopping cart was still where we had left it.
The afternoon was uneventful, even a little boring. I spent most of it outside picking up the yard while Helen caught up on cleaning inside the house. We were planning a cookout and pool party Sunday with Larry and Peg and a few neighbors, so we wanted the place to look good.
After a shower and a simple dinner of cold cuts and salad, I plopped onto the sofa and grabbed the TV Guide, looking to see if there were any interesting movies on cable. Being a Saturday night, I had my pick of several action films or the usual lame sitcoms on network TV. I settled on a Steven Seagal flick; I forget the name but let's face it, they're all pretty much interchangeable. Seagal had just finished beating the crap out of a bar full of thugs when Helen came quietly over and sat down next to me. She snuggled in close, lifting my right arm and draping it over her shoulders while resting her head on my chest. I gave her a light squeeze and asked, "To what do I owe this pleasant surprise?"
Her arms snaked around me in a gentle hug. "Just an impulse."
"I like this impulse," I said honestly. It felt good to just sit there with her. We stayed quiet for a while, enjoying each other's company. Helen eventually broke the silence.
"You were very understanding at the grocery store today," she said.
Ah, yes. "What exactly happened there, anyway?"
"More hypnotic voodoo, I think. One second I was all right, bringing back the lettuce. Then you said something and it was like I'd put my finger in a socket. My thinking brain just shut down and I was left with this sudden overwhelming need to have sex. Nothing else mattered, not where we were or who would be watching or anything. If you hadn't gotten me into that bathroom, I honestly think I would have dropped my drawers in the aisle."
"Same here," I concurred. "I tried to steer us to someplace reasonably safe, but I couldn't have held out much longer either. It was pretty scary."
"It was. Terrifying. And exhilarating. The more I thought about the possible consequences, the more I needed to do it anyway. I was totally out of control, but I never doubted that somehow you would keep me safe. And you did."
"Just lucky, I guess."
We sat together in silence for a little longer, and then Helen held up the VCR remote. "Ready to do our homework?" she asked.
"Might as well," I answered. Helen hit the Play button. Madeline's voice spoke and the world stopped turning, at least as far as we were concerned.
Intimate Adventures Part 5
Sunday was another typical summer day in the Washington area. By 9:30 in the morning the temperature was 85 degrees and the humidity was 97 percent. You get used to it when you live here long enough, but that doesn't mean you ever get to like it. We were prepared, though. We had two huge coolers full of iced down beer and sodas ready to go, and the pool was freshly cleaned. We knew we'd be using it extensively that day.
The cookout was a lunch affair. Guests started arriving around 11:00, most of them in bathing suits already, and hit the pool in short order. Helen and I prepared food and set up a self-service buffet table, then changed into our own bathing suits for a sociable dip.
By two o'clock the afternoon sun and the near toxic air quality were getting to people, and the party had dwindled down to just Helen, Larry, Peg and me. We were beating the worst of the heat by staying mostly underwater. Our pool is an odd style, almost like a hotel pool. There is a big kidney-shaped section deep enough for adults to swim and dive in, and set into the bend is a smaller, shallow part that was designed to be a kiddy pool but works equally well as a sitting-around tub for adults. There are no jets like a real spa would have, but the recirculating pump does generate a soothing current. A brick patio surrounds the pool on all sides, and a redwood privacy fence around the whole back yard gives the pool area an open but intimate feel.
The four of us were sitting in the shallow part, talking and joking and sipping beer, when the doorbell rang. Not wanting to slog sopping wet through the house, I climbed out of the pool and went to the front most corner of the fence. "Come on around to the right," I told the unseen caller. "We're in back."
"Coming." The voice was female, young and familiar but I couldn't quite place it. Then I saw a blonde head following the fence and I knew who it had to be.
"Hi, Kym," I greeted her as I opened the gate. She was dressed in a simple white dress and boat shoes. "Glad you could make it."
She smiled that beautiful smile of hers. "Me too. I'm sorry I'm late."
"No problem. To tell the truth, I'd forgotten that we invited you. We've already put the leftover food away, but if you're hungry we can fix you up in no time."
Larry and Peg stood up when we turned the corner to the pool area. Peg looked at Kym curiously. "Have we met somewhere?" she asked.
"Allow me," I said. "Larry and Peg, this is Kym. She works at Intimate Adventures."
"Oh, of course," Larry replied. "No wonder you looked so familiar. You're the receptionist, aren't you?"
"That's me," Kym confirmed. Just then Helen came out from the kitchen and greeted Kym with a cold beer and a sandwich, which she accepted gratefully. "I have something for you too, Helen." She produced a small, shiny gift bag tied shut with a sparkling ribbon.
Helen's face lit up. "Oooh. Can I open it now?"
"Go ahead."
Helen carefully untied the shiny ribbon and reached into the bag, pulling out a wad of white tissue paper. Then she took a long look inside and squealed with glee. "Oh my god, I can't believe it."
"What is it?" I asked, but instead of answering me she clutched the bag to her chest and retreated into the house with it. I turned to Kym and repeated the question.
"You'll find out in a few minutes," she assured me. The rest of us stayed in the pool while Kym ate her sandwich, waiting for Helen to come back out. I was starting to wonder where she was when I heard her voice from inside the house.
"Ready or not, here I come!" The patio curtain moved and there was Helen standing in the doorway. She wore only a gleaming white string bikini, tied in bows at the sides with a triangle top that clung provocatively to her tits. Seeing that she had our complete attention, she turned around and showed us the narrow strip of fabric covering her crack. Looking over her shoulder, she asked, "Well? What do you think?"
Despite having a really nice body, Helen has always tended toward modest, one-piece suits. Standing there in that skimpy little bikini, though, she looked damn good to me. "You look great, honey. Two thumbs way, way up."
"Hey, that's not your thumb!" Larry joked, pointing to my swim trunks. No, I didn't have a lump in my shorts, but I knew if Helen wore that suit into the water I would. Every time Helen moved the tiny patches of cloth would shimmer, drawing my eye back to her body. Not just my eye either, although Peg didn't seem to mind how Larry watched.
Helen stopped posing and turned back to Kym. "Can I actually swim in it?" she asked.
Kym nodded. "Oh, definitely. I've got one just like it and I've never had a problem with it. In fact, I'm wearing it now." That was when I realized that what had looked to me like a dress was actually a cover-up. Kym reached into the deep front pocket of her outfit, pulled out a rubber band, and proceeded to bind her long platinum hair into a tight cluster that sat just off her neck. Then she popped the snaps on the front of her wrap and slipped it off, revealing a magnificent young body in a powder blue bikini exactly the same style as Helen's. "See? We're even the same size." They were, for the most part, but Kym has slightly bigger tits than Helen does. From our vantage point in the smaller pool we could see the bottom curves of Kym's tits as they strained against the fabric.
All three of us stared shamelessly as Helen and Kym shed their footwear and dove into the large pool. Kym was a natural swimmer, fast and graceful, switching smoothly from breaststroke to backstroke to butterfly. Helen circled the pool with a lazy backstroke, letting the sun sparkle off her wet skin and watching me with a lusty look. We continued to ogle in silence until the girls swam up to the partition dividing the small wading pool from the big one. In one joint motion they dipped down to the neck and then pushed up, clearing the water and deftly swinging their legs over the partition to land sitting on its top edge. The sight of all that water sliding off all that exposed skin was almost a religious experience. I was glad the swirling water made it difficult to get a good look at my swim trunks, because they were tenting badly.
"Did you miss me?" Helen asked sweetly, sliding off the divider into the wading pool and snuggling up to me. Her hand quietly reached down and squeezed my cock through the baggy shorts, but she didn't say anything.
I was going to answer, but my brain vapor-locked when I noticed that instead of joining us in the wading pool, Kym was crawling along the top of the divider and around the edge of the pool. Even Helen stopped talking and watched the girl in silent appreciation. When she reached where Larry and Peg were sitting, Kym placed her head between them and whispered something.My friends' faces blanked for a split second, then they nodded and seemed to be fine. Seeming satisfied, Kym slid into the space between me and Larry, then crossed the pool. She sat facing us, letting her head fall back and stretching her arms out along the divider, which afforded us guys an irresistible view of her rack. "You have a wonderful house, Bob. So quiet and private. You and Helen must be very happy here."
"Those are the benefits of an older neighborhood," I explained. "The houses in this neighborhood are on much bigger lots than they use nowadays. It's easy to have quiet when your neighbor's house is 50 feet away instead of 10. And it's a lot easier to relax in your back yard when it isn't butted up against someone else's front yard."
"Truly spoken," Larry chimed in. He and Peg had lived in a flag lot in one of those modern cramped developments for eight years and had the devil of a time getting rid of the place when they couldn't take it anymore. Anyone who has ever lived in a place where the main view out the front window is someone else's back window understands how great it is to have some land around your house.
"This pool is unbelievable," Kym continued. "It must have cost a fortune."
"Actually, we lucked out," I said. "The previous owners had it built, and then got transferred and had to sell. There was a major drought that year, and the pool ended up dragging down the sale price instead of holding it up. Upkeep isn't too bad as long as we keep it covered in the off seasons."
Larry stirred. "Speaking of homes..."
Peg finished the thought: "...We probably ought to get back to ours. It was great meeting you, Kym."
Larry and Peg dried off and changed, then we said our goodbyes on the back porch and they left through the gate. When I got back to the pool area, Helen and Kym were sitting together in the shallow part looking thick as thieves. "What are you two planning?" I asked with mock suspicion.
"Just a little good clean fun," Helen answered. "Why don't you come here and help us up?"
They didn't need my help to climb out of the pool, but both women were holding up their hands, so I went along with it. Grabbing each by a forearm, I gave them a good strong tug to help them bound out of the pool, once again getting a generous eyeful of glistening wet skin for my trouble.
To my great surprise, the girls didn't let go of my hands once they were clear of the pool. Instead, they each grabbed me high on the arms and started dragging me backward. I started to protest, backpedaling frantically in an attempt to keep my balance. "What's going on here? What are you doing?"
"You'll find out soon enough," Kym promised. My heels struck a metal object -- the foot bar of a chaise lounge. We have a pair of them; big, sturdy pieces of furniture with tubular steel frames and thick cushions of dense foam. Still holding me by the elbows and armpits, the girls hoisted me up easily and set me down on the lounge. I didn't know what to say, so I said nothing. The girls exchanged a look and then, in perfect unison, reached behind them and pulled out the knots on their bikini tops at the back and the neck. Without hesitation they picked up the upper strings and pulled the tops away from their bodies, leaving me with the very difficult choice of which set of tits to gawk at first. I started with Helen's but moved quickly to Kym's since they were a new sight to me. God, were they nice. Teardrop shape, full but in exact proportion to her shoulders and waist, perfect as only nature can do. Both sets of nipples were engorged and standing proud.
While I was sitting passively admiring the display, the girls were busy. Before I knew what was happening, each had wound her bikini top around one of my wrists and tied a quick knot to hold it. They leaned over me together, each one pressing a tit into a side of my face, as they lifted my arms straight up. Suddenly I realized what they were doing -- in five seconds flat my hands were securely tied to the top of the chaise lounge's steel frame. The wet bikini straps worked as well as any twine or cord would have, with the added advantage of keeping me distracted until it was too late to escape. "Hey!" I shouted, but those delicious pillows in my face muffled the sound.
After making sure I couldn't free my arms, the girls stepped back to the foot of the lounge. Still moving as one, they tugged at the strings on their bikini bottoms, catching them as they tried to fall to the deck. Not saying a word, they each bent over a foot and used the bottoms to secure my ankles to the lounge frame. Once satisfied that I was thoroughly bound, they stopped to admire their handiwork.
Kym nodded approvingly. "Nicely done, Helen."
"Why thank you, Kym," my wife answered with exaggerated courtesy. "Is it just me, or is something still wrong with this picture?" They both studied me, looking up and down my body repeatedly. I'd had fantasies about something like this happening, but the reality was frightening. The more they looked, the more afraid I became. I knew Helen wouldn't do anything to hurt or humiliate me, but Kym was an unknown factor. How far would she go, and would Helen go along?
"I know what it is," Helen concluded. "He's overdressed."
"I believe you're right." They each grabbed a leg of my swim trunks and tried to pull them down, but they were wet and tended to cling. The eight-inch trailer hitch in front didn't help things either. After struggling with them for a minute, Helen had an idea and sprinted back into the house. She emerged again a few seconds later, still stark naked, and held up a long, gleaming pair of sewing scissors. Grinning wickedly, she slid the open scissors up the leg of my trunks, deliberately letting the lower jaw rub against my leg. In three quick strokes she had cut completely through the side seam of my suit, including the elastic waistband.
"Don't worry, honey," Helen told me. "You needed new trunks anyway." She handed the scissors to Kym, who repeated the cut on the other side. Grasping the loose front fabric, they pulled together and the trunks came off as easily as a disposable diaper, releasing my cock to sway in the breeze.
Kym whistled softly and pointed to my cock. "Very impressive, Bob. Why, that looks good enough to eat."
Eat?
"It really does, doesn't it?" Helen mused, studying my cock. "It's been a long time since I've tried that, though."
Kym seemed surprised. "Really? Why?"
"He doesn't really like it that much," Helen answered.
"Say what?" I exclaimed.
"Well, you've never asked for it," Helen retorted. "The one time I started to give you head you asked me to stop right away."
I opened my mouth to answer, but I really had no idea what to say. The truth was I never asked her to go down on me because I knew I wasn't prepared to do the same for her. I ended up stammering, "Yeah, I did... but... I mean... well... never mind."
Kym let out an exaggerated laugh. "Well, he's at our mercy now. Let's blow his mind wide open, shall we?" Kym's remark caused a lump to rise in my throat. Then I was startled to recognize that underneath the fear lurked a small but growing sense of anticipation. Was I starting to get off on this?
Helen started forward, but hesitated. "I'm a little rusty," she admitted tentatively.
"Would you like me to start? Maybe give you some pointers?"
"That would be great!"
"My pleasure."
Grabbing a nearby towel, Kym folded it neatly and dropped it on the brick floor, using it as a cushion as she knelt down by the side of the chaise lounge. She took on the persona of an X-rated Martha Stewart, addressing Helen in a friendly, professional tone.
"Most of the fun with this dish is in the preparation," she began. "Here we have an excellent specimen. You can see here that you have plenty of extension," she continued, running a fingertip up my twitching shaft, "and very impressive thickness." Wiping her finger on the very tip of my cock, she picked up a drop of oozing fluid and tasted it. "Nice flavor and consistency, too." Helen was nodding and watching calmly, as if it was the most normal thing in the world to have a strange woman playing with her husband's cock.
"Now how you approach this depends on what you are looking to get out of it," Kym continued. "If you just want a quick snack you can skip most of the preparation and go straight for the payoff, like this." Forming her lips into a big O, she rose up and then dove down into my lap, taking about two thirds of my length into her mouth. Her lips closed on the shaft and she sucked hard, stroking the underside of my shaft with her tongue. I let out an involuntary groan as Kym pulled off. "The important thing is to keep your throat relaxed and take it easy," she instructed. "The more you relax your throat, the more you can take at one time. Why don't you try it now?"
"Okay." Putting down a towel as Kym had done, Helen kneeled on the other side of the lounge. Taking a deep breath, she opened her mouth and plunged it down over my rod, getting a little less than half way down.
Kym was ready to provide coaching. "Good, Helen. Now make believe it's a giant drinking straw sticking out of a milkshake and suck. You have to suck really, really hard to get the ice cream to come through." Helen was an apt pupil; she sucked fiercely, sending shivers up and down my body. "Very good, Helen, you are a natural at this. Try running your tongue along the bottom a little bit while you work." Oh my god, she's doing it I thought, reeling from the sensation. I couldn't move my limbs much, but my pelvis was free enough to start rising up to meet Helen, a sure sign that I was about to come. Touching my wife on the shoulder, Kym quickly interceded. "That's enough, Helen.It's time to learn another important technique -- how to keep the juice from squirting out too early. Watch.
Making an 'OK' sign with her left hand, she pushed down firmly at the base of my cock and held it there. In a few seconds, that any-moment-now feeling subsided, and my hips became still again. "The girl knows more about dicks than I do," I said to myself. "Why don't you practice that a couple of times, Helen? Try some more sucking. When you feel his hips flexing or when he starts to twitch, pull off and press down like I did for about ten seconds. If you do it well, it'll drive him bonkers."
Helen went down on me again, this time taking me a little deeper into her mouth, and started sucking and running her tongue along my shaft. I felt the tide rising again, and so did she, pulling off at the last second and pressing down on the base of my cock the way Kym had, pulling me back from the edge. All I could do was groan in frustration while she repeated the sequence time after time. Somewhere along the line, my fear vanished only to be replaced by a raw animal hunger; all of my thought processes shut down while wave after wave of intense sexual pleasure pulsed through me. At first, my arms and legs strained against the restraints, but I quickly discovered that every proof of my helplessness only inflamed me more. Eventually, I abandoned all resistance and just surrendered to the sweet agony.
"Okay, Helen, I think you've mastered that approach. What shall we do next?"
"Hmm," Helen replied, thinking. "Why don't you show me the sensitive spots?"
"Certainly," the younger girl replied. "First, of course, is the top. This whole area here is very sensitive, especially right on the tip." As she explained, she traced the outline of my throbbing head with a fingertip. "Also along the edges here. There's a line running down the underside of the stalk, right here, which is also very sensitive." She wasn't kidding. More groans escaped my lips as I felt her fingernail raking down the underside of the shaft. "There is a similar but even more sensitive seam right down here, in the middle of the root ball." I twitched and strained as Kym's fingernail traced the centerline between my balls, prompting her to press against my groin again to keep me from coming. "Notice how far back that goes, Helen? The further back you touch it, the more sensitive it is. And if you really want to drive him wild, apply just a little bit of pressure right here."
I'm still not sure what she touched, but I felt it from head to toe. Forget moaning, I howled in ecstasy. This time Kym held her fingers against the base of my rod for almost a full minute, giving me plenty of time to calm down again before Helen took her turn.
"He seems to like this," Helen observed, watching my face while she traced the edges of my head. "What if I do this?" Making a circle with her thumb and forefinger, she encircled my cock at the head and ran the circle up and down it a couple of times, which brought forth several more gasps from me. "That's a keeper. Oh, have you tried this one?" Looking up at Kym, Helen started running her fingertips from base to tip the way she does, sending exquisite shivers through my body.
"Very creative," Kym noted with approval. "Do you mind if I try that one?"
"Please, be my guest." A few seconds to cool off, and then Kym's fingernails were dragging across my aching cock. I thought for sure I was going to go into orbit.
"So," Kym asked, "Would you care to finish him off?"
"Not just yet," Helen answered. "I want to play with him some more first."
"Do I get a vote in this?" I interjected. They ignored me.
Kym turned back to Helen. "What's his specialty?"
Hefting her tits in both hands, Helen answered right away. "Boobs. He's great with boobs. He can take you to heaven without ever touching you below the waist. Bob, show Kym how well you handle boobs."
I pulled at my bonds but they still wouldn't budge. "That's going to be difficult," I pointed out. Kym responded by standing up and moving toward the back of the chaise lounge, putting her tit neatly in the palm of my hand. What else could I do? I went to work on the offered tit, squeezing and stroking and frigging the nipple as much as my bonds would allow. I got quite a reaction from Kym. She relaxed and sighed, then started to hum. "Mmmmm ... mmmmm ... that's so nice ... you are so right, Helen, he really does have great hands."
"He uses his mouth well too," Helen added. "Try it."
Kym leaned over a little more and put a hard, erect nipple into my mouth. I sucked gently and tickled the tip with my tongue while I listened to Kym's hums turn into soft moans. The smell of her arousal was strong, sweetening every breath I took. I knew I was getting to her, and that knowledge started having an increasingly powerful effect on me. From somewhere behind Kym, I heard Helen's voice. "I think I'm ready to finish him off now."
"I'll get out of your way, then." With a sense of reluctance, Kym pulled her tit away from my face.
"Nonsense," Helen corrected. "As you were, please."
"Don't mind if I do." Kym leaned over me and put her nipple back in my mouth, pulling my head to her with her left hand. Her chest blocked my view of Helen, but when I felt a warm, soft pair of lips close around my cock, I knew what she was up to. All I could do was keep sucking and hang on as she ran her tongue up and down the shaft, sending shivers up my spine. Kym pressed me closer, and I picked up the pace as I felt my own pulse racing, teasing Kym's nipple while I sucked harder on her breast. Kym and I were both moaning freely, and I guess Helen would have been too but her mouth was full. My cock, having endured a good half hour or more of repeated teasing by these women, felt like it was four feet long and solid steel. I felt fingers running up and down my balls, tracing the seam, and then suddenly I saw stars. My whole body tensed with the power of the orgasm. I tried to breathe but my mouth was full of Kym's tit so I ended up sucking even harder, hard enough to make her gasp. Helen's mouth stayed locked around my twitching shaft, draining me. I zoned out for a few seconds -- or maybe it was a few minutes -- and came back just in time to see Helen standing over me, wiping her mouth.
"Tasty, too," she said in her best Lucille Ball voice. "Just like candy."
I was too exhausted to laugh. Kym laughed enough for both of us, then started walking around me toward Helen. I could see the glint of moisture running down the inside of the girl's thighs.
"What shall we do next?" Helen asked.
"A little surprise for you, I think." Kym stood behind Helen, snaked her arms inside of Helen's and held firm. She placed her mouth near Helen's right ear and whispered something. Instantly, I saw Helen's eyes go blank and slam shut. Her head fell back onto Kym's shoulder as the rest of her body sagged. Kym held Helen up and carefully eased her limp body onto the other chaise lounge.
"You look like you've had some practice handling unconscious people," I remarked. Sure, it was lame, but I couldn't think of anything better.
"Just a bit," she agreed. There was an extra sway in her hips as she approached me again. Something about that sway, and the way she had rendered Helen unconscious with just a word, brought my cock back to life.
"What happens now?" I asked nervously, knowing she could do anything she wanted to with me, part of me hoping she would.
For an answer, she leaned forward and kissed me on the lips, then whispered something that put my lights out. The last sensation I remember was the feel of something wet, warm, and strong pressing down over my cock.
When I opened my eyes again, Kym was gone. Helen was still asleep in the other lounge. My hands and feet were free. The two bikinis had been left on a patio table between the chairs, but the white cover-up and boat shoes were gone. Looking at the bikinis gave me an idea...
"Wake up, Helen."
My wife's eyes fluttered open and focused slowly on my face. She noticed right away that her arms were up over her head and tried to put them down. It only took her a second to realize why they wouldn't move.
"You didn't!"
"Of course I did. Turnabout is fair play."
Grimacing, Helen pulled hard, trying to slip out of the bonds. I'd taken the precaution of wetting the bikini parts before using them again, though, so they were not about to slide by. Trying her level best to project calm, she looked right at me and said, "Okay, you've made your point. Now let me go."
"Sure thing," I replied with an evil glint in my eye. "But let's have a little fun first, shall we?" Helen strained against the bonds again, which put a really nice arc in her back; her tits stood out beautifully, just begging to be handled. The nipples were already hard, too. I grabbed one tit in each hand and just gave a good squeeze. Helen threw her head back and groaned.
"Do you want me to stop?" I teased, squeezing them again.
"No ... No ... NOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"Can I really send you to heaven without touching you below the waist?"
"Yes ..." she gasped. I gave her a few more squeezes, then rolled the nipples between my fingers. "Yes ... YES ... YOU'RE DOING IT ... NOWWWW!" Her whole body tensed and tried to rise off the chaise lounge as she climaxed; I thought for a second that she might hurt herself and made a move toward the bonds on her wrists. Helen saw me and breathed out, "No ... it's okay ... don't ..." She was still riding the tail end of her orgasm. Finally, her body relaxed, although she continued to breathe heavily.
"Was that good?" I asked, gently stroking her body with my hand. She was too out of breath to answer, but she did give me a blissful nod. "Let's see what else we can do.Moving to the foot end of the lounge, I parted Helen's legs and nudged them aside. I hadn't tied her at the ankles, only the wrists, but her body was so spent she made no effort to stop me. I crawled forward into position, stalking my prey. At just above the knee, I started planting little kisses on the inside of her left leg, working my way up the thigh. Each kiss got me a moan from Helen, and as I moved higher she opened her legs more to make room for me.
For the third time that week I had my face within striking distance of Helen's pussy. This time I felt no uncertainty, no reluctance. She was already dripping in juices; I swabbed some up with my finger and tasted it. The taste and the smell combined to get me seriously aroused. Pushing my face further into the sweetness, I traced the outer edges of her slit with my tongue and felt Helen shudder and gasp. I changed directions and got the same reaction. Emboldened, I started working the inner lips, then turned my attention to the middle. Putting my tongue between the inner lips, I worked straight down until I felt the little nub I was looking for. The second I touched it, Helen howled with delight; I felt her powerful thighs tightening around my head. My tongue started circling the button and Helen went over the edge into another full-body orgasm. I held on for the ride, trying to keep my tongue on the button, continuing to stimulate her. I wanted to see how long we could keep it up. At some point I became dimly aware that I was having another orgasm myself, shooting semen all over the vinyl cushion.
An eternity later, I finally pulled back and let Helen come back to Earth. She clenched and released a few more times and then crumpled. She was barely conscious of me as I untied her wrists and massaged the chafed areas.
I picked up a damp towel to clean my face and a small plastic bottle fell off the table. It was sunscreen, SPF 50, but it wasn't our brand. Left nothing to chance, did you Kym? I thought.
We retired to the house for a good long nap and had leftover party food for dinner. After dinner we watched the Madeline tape one last time, sitting naked on the sofa. When it was over we just sat there and cuddled, amazed to find ourselves so comfortable with the bizarre events of the day.
Intimate Adventures Part 6
Our closing interview with Madeline was scheduled for 9:00am Monday. We both took the day off so we could enjoy each other's company afterwards.
Madeline was waiting to greet us when we showed up at her office. We passed over the offered easy chairs and went straight to the daybed, where we sat together hand in hand. Madeline nodded approvingly and turned one of the easy chairs to face us before sitting down in it.
"If you don't mind," she said, "I'd like to have Kym sit in with us. She played a very active role in your program, as you now know."
Helen and I looked at each other but didn't need to think. "Sure," we said in unison.
Kym grinned at us both again as she adjusted the other chair and sat down. "So," Madeline began. "Why don't you tell me about your week?"
Helen and I took turns telling the story, starting with the evening after our first meeting. We went over every detail: every thought, every feeling, every desire and action. Madeline listened intently the whole time, making encouraging sounds, but seldom interrupted. We talked for a very long time. After a long while, Kym left us briefly and returned with a pitcher of ice water and four glasses. By the time we finished the story, the pitcher was almost empty and morning was nearer to midday.
When we were done, Madeline spent a few minutes digesting what we had told her. She hadn't taken a single written note, but I had no doubt that she had every detail in her head. We found ourselves waiting silently for her response. Turning to Helen, Madeline asked: "Do you think you've changed any this past week?"
"Absolutely," Helen answered right away.
"How so?"
"Hmm..." she mused. "For one thing, I feel more confident in myself. I also seem to relax more when I'm with Bob."
"Same here," I added. "I feel like a few walls have been knocked down and we have all this new space to live in."
"That's wonderful," Madeline replied. "You are both learning how to relax and enjoy each other instead of vying for control."
"Is that what the program was really about?" Helen asked.
"Your program was based on several goals," Madeline explained. "Definitely, one was to get both of you used to the idea of releasing control, giving in to your own feelings instead of trying to engineer each other's orgasms. Great sex comes easily if you are both willing to just let it happen."
"Those tapes didn't hurt either," I remarked. "You sure loosened some of my knots with those. What was in them?"
"General suggestions similar to ones I gave you in this office. They were designed to increase your sexual confidence, promote a more positive self-image, increase your libido, and foster a desire to talk with each other about your experiences. The first one included a fractionation exercise to reinforce your training and some specific suggestions that would cause you to physically relax when you became aroused. There was a new tape every day which repeated the basics and also set up the encounters."
"Yes, the encounters," Helen said. "Where did you get the ideas for those?"
"Mostly from you and Bob, by way of your fantasies. While under hypnosis, you described scenes in which you were overcome with passion, or instilled that passion in Bob through the telephone. Your fantasies, like Bob's, revolved largely around either taking control or surrendering control to someone else, usually Bob. Based on that, I scripted encounters that would help you push your boundaries a little."
"You mean, like having sex in a public bathroom?"
"Certainly. You also got opportunities to let Bob bring you to multiple orgasms, which is something both of you wanted but which you had been reluctant to allow for fear of seeming too demanding."
"What about me?" I prompted as Helen digested the information.
"Your fantasies were also very interesting," she continued. "Especially in the way that they dovetailed so nicely with Helen's. Helen dreamed of being more open sexually, and you dreamed about having sex with her in unusual places. You described several different bondage fantasies involving Helen and sometimes a second woman tying you up and taking their time with you, and you also expressed a strong desire to have Helen let you undress her. Most of these things were easy enough to arrange. As with Helen, the important part was to get you to open up to her, to let yourself enjoy the sex without thinking too much about the nuts and bolts. I especially wanted you to realize that even if you do orgasm earlier than you'd like, you can still please Helen in other equally effective ways."
"I think we both got that," I said. "Some of those night sessions were intense."
"They certainly were," Helen agreed. "That first night, when Bob came so fast, it amazed me how good I felt for being able to please him so much. Then, when he started on me, I just blissed out. I'd never felt anything like that before."
Madeline nodded. "Did you find that it got easier to release control as the week progressed?"
"Yes, I think so. Mind you, a lot of the time I didn't really have a choice. When Bob snuck up behind me on Thursday and turned me into a rag doll I pretty much had to do whatever he wanted."
"Did that frighten you as much as the first night?"
Helen thought it over. "No, I'd have to say it didn't. It was a lot like the Monday night, only more so. I felt like a queen letting Bob service me like that."
"It was my pleasure," I interjected. "A pleasure that you took plenty of opportunities to return, I'll point out. Like that phone call, for instance. I was the one out of control for that one."
"That's right," Madeline agreed. "That was one of Helen's fantasies. It dovetailed nicely with some of your fantasies about being seduced by Helen in unusual places."
"Unusual places. You mean, like Larry and Peg's house? I still can't believe we got away with that one."
"I wouldn't have tried it if Larry and Peg hadn't been clients recently," Madeline assured us. "I had Kym pay them a brief visit before you two arrived. All they remember is that you did some pretty heavy necking during the movie."
"About that movie," Helen said. "How did I end up with that tape? And why did it affect us that way when we were never into that sort of thing before?"
Now it was Kym's turn to blush. "I was waiting for you in the video store. After suggesting to Bob that he go to the car alone, I got behind you in line and switched your tape for one I'd taken from the adult room."
"And then made us both forget seeing you, is that it?"
The girl nodded, smiling. "We did a similar thing at the Giant on Saturday. I gave Bob a trigger and walked away, but he didn't remember seeing me. Then I watched from a safe distance while the scene developed."
"It worked," I replied. "I don't remember you at all. I just remember saying something about Helen having a nice ass, and then she went nympho on me. I tried to deal with it, but seeing her in a frenzy like that put me out of control too."
"It was a different kind of control fantasy," Madeline explained. "Being swept up by a grand passion, as the novelists say. With both of you out of control, it adds an element of risk that you both had ideas of exploring."
"It scared the hell out of me," I replied. "I thought for sure we were going to get busted."
"It scared me too," Helen interjected. "My body was going nuts and I couldn't stop it. Bob saved me."Your trust in Bob is what saved you," Madeline corrected. "You looked to him for help, and he did the best he could for you. Remember that."
"When I heard that guy coming with his kid, my whole life flashed before my eyes," I complained.
Kym looked back at me sheepishly. "I'm sorry about that. As soon as you two bolted into the bathroom, I hung an 'Out of Order' sign on the door and stood guard just in case. I would have left it up longer, but that poor little boy was in such dire need. I couldn't make him suffer, so I knocked once to warn you and ducked out of sight."
Okay, I could forgive her for that one. "If we go back there and find extra security posted near the restrooms, we'll know why," I joked. "I guess that brings us to the pool party. We didn't really invite you, did we?"
Kym giggled. "Of course you did. Right here in this room."
Madeline took over. "When you told me about the party you were planning, it seemed like an excellent opportunity to end the week on a high note. Helen got an opportunity to be openly sexual while still feeling safe and among friends. It also proved the effectiveness of the program at strengthening her overall sense of self. Helen, I'm extremely proud of you -- it takes a lot of self-confidence for a 32-year-old woman to put on a string bikini and stand next to someone like Kym."
"And even more to take it off," Kym added. "I was feeling a little insecure myself about then."
"I'd never thought of myself as being very sexy," Helen mused. "Not until this past week anyway. You don't mind if I keep the bikini, do you?"
"Keep them both," Kym told her. "I bought them just for that occasion."
I had one more question for the younger girl. "After you put me to sleep by the pool, Kym, did you give me any extra suggestions?"
"Like what?" she asked innocently.
"Like Oral Sex 101."
Everyone started laughing, including me. "Yes," she finally answered, "I did. You were trying so hard, but you really needed someone to teach you the basics."
"Whose basics did you teach me with?"
A sly grin crossed her face for a moment. "Helen's, of course."
Madeline cleared her throat. "Normally we don't go to quite those lengths with our encounters," she explained. "I agreed to the threesome in your case because Kym volunteered the idea herself, and because it fit in so closely with fantasies both of you described."
"You taught him well," Helen said to Kym. "You taught me well also; thank you for that. I'm sure we'll be using our new skills frequently."
We were silent for a few moments, sensing the meeting's end but not wanting to part company just yet. Madeline gave us both a pleased look and asked one final question: "Now that you know how the magic was done, how do you feel about it?"
Helen answered first. "I feel great," she said with authority. "I feel sexy and attractive, and able to enjoy things I couldn't let myself do or feel before. I've never been more in love with this guy than I am right now." She gave me a big squeeze as she finished.
"Same here," I added. "You've lifted a couple of big weights off my shoulders that had been holding me down for years. My only regret is that I didn't have experiences like this long ago; if I had, maybe I wouldn't have developed those hang-ups in the first place."
"The past is done," Madeline replied. "The important thing now is what you make of your relationship in the present and future. I am truly happy to see how you have grown so much closer together in this past week. Going forward, I want you to think about this: many of the physical responses you went through this past week were scripted; however, the emotions you experienced together did not come from anything we said to you in this office or on tape. You had them within you all the time. You will continue to have them as long as you believe in and cherish each other."
We ended the meeting in a group hug. Madeline assured us we could always come back if we wanted to, and we made sure to take her card and a fee schedule with us. Suddenly I had a thought. "Madeline, could I ask you for a special favor?"
"What did you have in mind?"
When I told her, all three women's eyes lit up and broad smiles graced their faces. "It would be my pleasure," Madeline answered.
On our way back through the lobby, we saw a man and woman about our age, sitting near each other, squinting quizzically at clipboards containing the IA questionnaire. Helen and I exchanged a knowing look and beamed smiles at the couple on our way out the door.
Two weeks later, it was our turn to host video night. We got the house together and fixed up an assortment of the usual snacks and drinks. Larry and Peg arrived promptly at 7:45, so we got to talk and munch a little before the movie. At 8:00 I rose and walked to the VCR.
"What's the feature tonight?" Larry asked.
"It's a surprise," I said, remembering Helen's answer to that same question at their house. "I hope you like it."
"'Debbie Does Dallas'?" Larry guessed, eliciting laughs from all of us.
"Just watch," I told him as I rejoined Helen on the sofa. My arm around her shoulders, I pressed the Play button on the remote.
In a few seconds, Madeline's face appeared on the screen. "Good evening, Larry and Peg," she began. "This tape is a gift to you from Bob and Helen and can be used as often as you wish." I heard gasps and turned to see Larry and Peg staring open-mouthed at the TV, like kids getting their first peek at the goodies on Christmas morning. Before they could get a word in, Madeline's voice said, "Larry and Peg, sleep now." Their faces went blank and their bodies melted into their respective chairs. Helen and I tiptoed to our bedroom, leaving the door open just a crack.
"This was an ingenious idea," Helen said, hugging me tightly.
"What better way to thank them?" I replied, returning the embrace.
We waited in silence for a little while. From upstairs we could hear Madeline's voice but couldn't make out the words. After fifteen or twenty minutes, her voice stopped. It was soon replaced by the unmistakable sound of moans, both male and female. The moaning got louder and faster as it continued. I felt my body responding to the passionate noises, and one look at Helen told me hers was doing the same. We stripped quickly and made love, adding our own joyful sounds to the mix.
Epilogue
It was a cold, rainy day in early April. The clock on the wall said 4:00am, but I didn't care. I kept my place next to Helen, holding her hand, talking to her, helping to keep her relaxed and disassociated from the pain. The fetal monitor kept up its steady rhythms, letting us know that our baby was doing fine.
Dr. Agnes Kennesaw came in, as she had been doing about every 20 minutes for the past 16 hours. It took a lot of searching to find an OB/GYN willing to work with deep hypnosis for anesthesia, but Helen and I both knew it was worth it. Dr. Kennesaw checked Helen's cervix one last time and pronounced her ready to start pushing.
I took Helen deeper into trance, telling her that her work was almost done. "Now you can relax, Helen, relax and breathe deeply, gathering your strength for the last effort. Pay close attention to your cervix and pelvic muscles, Helen. Feel them relaxing, relaxing, stretching, opening wider and wider to allow the baby to pass without pain, without injury to you. Relax, let go, and enjoy." I kept up that patter as the hypno-anesthetist had taught me, then coached Helen through a series of hard, short pushes designed to pop the baby out without tearing Helen's tissues.
Four pushes were enough to clear the baby's head and shoulders. Dr. Kennesaw took it from there, gently pulling the baby free with gloved hands. A nurse quickly came up and clamped the umbilical cord while another wrapped the baby in a blanket for warmth. Dr. Kennesaw offered me a pair of surgical scissors. With tears in my eyes, I cut neatly through the cord.
"Do you have a name for her?" Dr. Kennesaw asked.
"Yes. Welcome to life, Madeline. | null | null | Authors/Wiseguy/int_adv.txt |
|
118,050 | Anak Vagu | The Birthday | You called and told me to meet you at some bar after work for drinks. When I arrived, I was flustered, scanning the room and searching for my slender, dark-haired beauty. I caught a glimpse of you standing in a crowded part of the bar, your shoulder-length dark hair cascading sexually over your shoulders. You were still in your work clothes -- a cream-colored blouse, beige skirt that just came above your knees, shiny cream-colored hose that matched your blouse, and brownish-reddish alligator-skinned heels. As I approached you, I immediately became alarmed, for our eyes met, but you turned away from me. You were talking with another man, someone I did not recognize -- younger and handsome.
I tried to get your attention as I approached, but you acted as if we were strangers. Despite my shock at your behavior, I immediately became aroused. Watching you with this handsome young fellow, you were flirting with him and teasing me. You knew how badly I needed tonight. I had been waiting to be with you all week, and now you were torturing me with your body. You would not let me have you all week. You teased me all week long, saying, "Wait until Friday," shaking your lovely curves in front of me as you pranced around the house.
To make matters worse, I could not resist the temptation to have some part of you during the week. In a mad fit of erotic and sexual frustration, I pulled a pair of your used panties from the laundry basket, a thong. I was trying to sniff and extract the sweetness from the dried secretions. I licked the crotch, mesmerized by the scent you had left. I then ran my tongue along the backside of your thong, where your lovely rosebud rests, licking the secretions of your glorious ass from the dried fabric. And then you caught me and laughed.
I ordered a drink to quell my frustration and watched you flirting with this handsome man. Flipping your hair over your shoulder and laughing at things he said. Every now and then, you briefly turned towards me and captured my gaze with your seductive eyes and smile. He would touch you ever so slightly, brush your shoulder with his fingers or your elbow. Despite my frustration, I grew red in the face, not from anger or embarrassment, but arousal, from watching my hot wife flirting with a younger man while I watched. I was dying watching you rock on your sexy heels, shifting your weight on your sexy legs. Then you'd remove one of your nylon-clad feet from your shoes, curl it, and rub it. God, you looked so lovely.
I began to wonder what you were up to, though. And he began touching you more in this crowded bar, nonchalantly rubbing his hands down your back. Then I saw you gasp when he ran a hand over the backside of your skirt, fondling your sweet ass. As the noise of the bar got louder, he began whispering things in your ear, and you would laugh and turn to capture me in your gaze again. And then he whispered in your ear, and I swear that I saw him kiss your sweet neck. Damn, what were you doing to me? And then he nibbled on your ear, and I saw you gasp again. You were red in the face, and I knew you were aroused.
I bowed my head and closed my eyes, for I did not know what I was seeing. And when I turned to look for you again, you were gone. In a panic, I surveyed the entire crowded bar and caught your gaze as you were walking hand in hand with this handsome fellow out of the bar, smiling at me. Moments later, you called me on my cell phone, telling me that you would be home later and not to wait up.
I disobeyed you by trying to stay up for you when you returned home. I did not know exactly what you were doing, but I was incredibly aroused. Were you having sex with this young man you were flirting with in the bar? Were you making love or were you fucking? Images of you in complete ecstasy filled my mind. I wondered what you smelled like, were you sweating, what noises did you make? Were they the same ones that you made with me? Or did you allow yourself to lose complete control and succumb to every passion your lover bestowed upon you. Staring at your lips slightly ajar, I wondered if you had sucked him? Did his glans penis part your sweet lips? Imparting a taste of his precum between your lips? Or perhaps you brought him to climax, as I know you do so well? Did you swallow his cum and savor his taste on your liquor-soaked tongue? Did he explode in your mouth, and his seed dribble out of the sexy corners of your sweet lips?
These thoughts still filled my mind as I awoke early in the morning on the couch with the TV still on. I was not sure if you were home. I turned the TV off and noticed that the clock on the VCR read 7:03 am. I walked upstairs to our bedroom, the hallway barely lit with sunlight. The door to our bedroom was slightly ajar, and a ray of light was shining through it. As I opened the door, I stumbled over something and almost fell on the floor. I looked down, and it was one of your heels. I picked it up, fondling it, wondering if you were wearing them when he had you.
Then I was hit by a smell that was somewhat unpleasant. The smell of stale liquor reminded me of my previous partying days, the aroma of frat houses on Saturday or Sunday morning after an all-night party. When I looked up at your limp, semi-clothed body on top of our bed, reeking of alcohol, sweat, and yes, sex, I shook, thinking of the things your body went through just hours, perhaps moments before.
Staring at your disheveled appearance on our bed, I tried to determine your actions when you got home. Drunk, you tried to undress. You kicked off your heels, managed to get your skirt off, unbuttoned your blouse, and passed out. You were laying on our bed in just your open blouse and cream-colored pantyhose (no bra or panty). Examining closer, I noticed that the crotch of your pantyhose was torn open and that you weren't wearing any panties beneath either. You had runs in your hose on both legs, and your hose-covered feet were stained brown from the inside of your heels. I was astonished as I distinctly recalled you wearing a matching bra and panty set yesterday, a set I had bought you on a previous occasion.
Like an archaeologist discovering a lost city, I stared relentlessly at the dark tufts of pubic hair that blanketed your covenant. I moved my head in closer for a better view and exposed myself to the overwhelming aroma of what I knew to be your well-fucked pussy. Your lips were still swollen and red, yet glistening slightly. Looking closer, I noticed that some of the tufts of hair were matted together around your well-fucked lips and just below your opening near your rosebud.
I knew what it was, and I had to taste it. You let him have you without protection. You allowed him to have you in the raw, leaving his seed in you to only fall out of your crevice and dry in a crusty mass over your lovely hairs. My tongue parting my lips like a dog thirsty for water, I began lapping up the dried remnants of your lover's passion from your hairy mound. Sucking and kissing the tufts of hair that just moments ago surrounded and gripped his manhood. I could taste him on those dried hairs and the open pores in your groin. The salty sweetness of the mixture of his and your sex made me hard immediately, and I sucked out his dried remains even harder from you. You stirred, moaning slightly, "Oh Mark," you mumbled from between your sweet lips, filling the air of our bedroom with your stale alcohol breath. Mark, I thought. That must have been his name, for after 22 years together, I would assume you knew my name.
But I got you aroused again in your drunken slumber. Your pussy emanating secretions as if I opened the floodgates of your previous evening's passion. Should I have a go, I wondered. Would it make a difference? I knew it wouldn't take me long, so I undressed quickly and lifted up your silky nylon-covered legs on my shoulders and began to enter you. "Oh Mark, fuck me again," you screamed through your drunken lips. You must have enjoyed him, as your pussy was wet again. You moaned with ecstasy and drunken passion as I took the previous evening's sexual frustrations out on you. I pinned your 45-year-old knees by your ears and began plowing you violently. The slaps of my torso upon your wet groin were producing a low groan from your lips. It was so sexy that you thought I was your lover. Your drunken body was falling limp, were you passing out from my passions? In no time at all, I added my seed to your well-worn, sensitive pussy. You could only moan as I exploded inside of you and fell off. I watched my cum flow from your bright red lips and could not resist the temptation of sucking up my passion from your loins. The taste was exquisite. The mixture of salty, dry-tasting cum mixed with your bodily fluids had me hard again. I pretended that it was your lover's seed that I was sucking on, and you were moaning again.I rolled you over flat on the bed and removed your blouse. I was about to take off your pantyhose and leave you naked, but you looked so hot like that. I also noticed that the torn hole in the crotch of your hose expanded well over your ass. Spreading your legs again, I pried open your sweet cheeks and examined what I believed to be true now. Your lover enjoyed your puckered, swollen, and semi-gaping rosebud. You let your lover have your ass. Did he leave his seed there? I could not tell, but knowing how you like it, I supposed that he did. And I also know that you most likely cleaned him off when he was finished, as you have done on so many other occasions for me. I then kissed and tongued your sweet rosebud, its tangy nectar filling my nostrils. Working my tongue in circles around your puckered hole, as I know you enjoy it, I entered it with my tongue to taste the fruits of your lover's sexual labor in your ass. That is how I left you - flat on your stomach, your hair disheveled, clad only in your torn pantyhose, hoping you would share what transpired during the previous evening with me when you awoke.
You were still passed out when I took a shower. When I awoke from my nap in the afternoon, you were above me. "Did you have a good birthday?" you queried. "Wonderful," I said. Then you detailed the specifics of your encounter with Mark. Of how he got you very drunk at his apartment after you left the bar, and how he shared you with his roommate, double-teaming you and double-penetrating you anally and vaginally. I nearly came when you told me, and I asked if it was possible to have a month or a year of birthdays. | null | null | Authors/anakvagu/The Birthday.txt |
118,085 | Esu Migabe | The Letter | Yes, she did agree, even suggest, that I do this - here I am taking my life in my hands.
Storyline
Our girl's day starts badly, and to add to her woes, her boyfriend has a job away from home. So she thinks of things to pass her time. Will his letter bring suggestions? Well, in a word, yes!
Merits
In a word, simplicity, in two words - simplicity and honesty. The story is written without either too much hyperbole or the overtly sexualized clichés so many writers fall into. There is nothing that jars, and the story is very natural, and very feminine, due to that. A very pleasant change from the 'testosterone sex' that fills many stories.
For example, only one orifice was used, and with only one sex toy at a time.
Demerits
Personally, I would have liked the story to be longer, in particular in the exploration of the emotions that led her to her decision. An extract:
"Oh my love, I miss you," she thought to herself, "My perfect guy - if only you were here."
What makes him so perfect - for her? He is too one-dimensional, seemingly a cipher to set off the rest of the action.
The writer has the talent and the emotional maturity to express these emotions we all feel. I, for one, would like her to do it.
Atmosphere
In such a short story, it is difficult to define any richness to the physical environment. But the territory between the lovers is defined in a very elegant way; she imagines him stroking her, and at the finale, she reveals he would have enjoyed the experience, although it was a solitary one. A simple, but effective way to show the relationship between them.
Workflow
Well, as mentioned in demerits, I did feel some emotions and passages were rushed. The story would have benefited from a little more 'substance'.
Eroticism
Well, as a man, reading about the sexual feelings of a woman written so clearly is an erotic, even uplifting experience.
Mechanics
All in all, not bad, got a bit sloppy at the end though:
"Finally rolling over, she kissed her letter, knowing the sender would have enjoyed it just as much as her. More importantly, she knew how she was going to spend her time."
He would have enjoyed the letter as much as her? Why? He wrote it! That damn 'it' word... now what was she referring to - ah, I see!
Of course, she was going to spend her time kissing letters - that's one hell of a hobby.
Impression
Well, I don't have any choice, do I? Ahem. Yes, the simplicity of the writing and the purity of the feeling add enough to bring me back again.
Total score: 73 Yotties out of 100. | null | null | Authors/Yotna_eltoub/Reviews/Review_019_The Letter.txt |
118,102 | Yotna El'toub | 100 not out! | Yulie smiled and relaxed, and a look of mischief crossed her striking features. She began.
"Procol and I worked together for six years, six very productive years. We visited planets in spiral arm gamma, advising on cultural and sociological issues, always looking to exchange ideas on reform. Over the years, I became very involved with adolescents and their problems. It doesn't matter what species you are, puberty is always unsettling!"
Yulie paused. "That's my experience anyway, what about you?" she asked, probing delicately.
Lewis swallowed hard. He tried to keep his face a mask of indifference; he wasn't about to own up to two years of penal detention - not to a stranger.
"Very quiet, nothing extraordinary. Lewis Johnson was a bit of a bore, really," Lewis muttered, casting his eyes slightly to one side.
Yulie laughed, her eyes twinkling - she had hit a nerve!
"Oh, that bad..." she paused for effect, then continued.
"One day, Procol briefed me that we had received an urgent request to visit Sirus 17, due to a major concern over a worrying trend in the teenage population. The request was informal; Procol had received it from an old friend - by voicemail. He wanted to act quickly, being helpful, and being more than aware of the benefits of cross-departmental cooperation..."
Lewis interrupted.
"Erm, could you use a little less jargon - what benefits?"
"In layman's terms - a bribe," Yulie smiled.
"Now that I understand, please continue," Lewis chuckled.
"So we asked the pilot to plot a course for Sirus 17, and Procol, in his usual efficient manner, briefed me on the background. Apparently, the teen population were rampaging off track, underage sex, drugs - all the usual. What was unusual was that they had found some way to influence their elders, and get them to join in! If this continued, society would disintegrate; the productive output had already fallen by 34%. Procol's contact was one of the Sirus system's planetary council, his daughter had visited Sirus 17 for a mini-break, and now she refused to return!"
"I see, so it was vital you stopped this world from grinding to a halt," Lewis grinned, "No pun intended!""Not really, getting the daughter back was – Nulix Grunelow was losing face – all because his daughter Mehana spent all her time - off her face!" Yulie replied, ironically.
"That was his contact!" Lewis let out a low whistle, "Procol moved in high circles. This is the same Nulix Grunelow, the CEO of Galactic Mining, right?"
"The same, you've heard of him then?" Yulie asked, jokingly.
"Who hasn't? He owns most of the outer Galaxy!" Lewis stared at the back of the bustling barman, in open disbelief. He paused to reassess his old friend.
"Back to the story, we set off as soon as we could wrap up our current mission; a delay of a few days – no more.
When we arrived, we were met by quite a delegation of Sirusians. I'd never met any before – a striking race, tall and slim, similar to what I'd always imagined an elf looked like. Have you met any, Lewis?" Yulie asked.
"Nope, met most others – had relations with several, mostly pleasant, but Sirusians – no." Lewis replied.
"Then you are in for a treat, several are coming to the celebration tonight! Anyway, we discussed the formalities, and agreed the joint meeting would begin at 2037.30 Sidereal. Then they asked me something a little odd. Jult'a, the delegation's leader, asked me who would be 'performing'; an unusual phrase. I took it to mean oratory, this was my first mistake. I confirmed to Jult'a that I would. He looked quite taken aback, then nodded, smiled and said 'We are truly honored, our performer is also female, does this present a problem?' I replied that of course it didn't, why should it. Jult'a nodded sagely and said 'Most gracious – we are indeed honored!' I simply smiled and the meeting ended." Yulie paused.
"I get the impression that communications were a bit ambiguous," Lewis stated.
Yulie's eyes flared with temper.
"Am I telling this story, or would you prefer to construct your own?" She asked pointedly.
"Sorry, I meant no offence," Lewis replied.
"I too wondered about this, so I had Procol check the meaning of 'performance' in Sirusian. It was close to our understanding, but referred a little more widely – to any form of public event. I relaxed; all was going to plan. Procol finalized my briefing, and I went back to my room to finish my speech. I would even get a couple of hours to bathe and relax – a real luxury!" Yulie paused as she drank her slammer.
This time Lewis bit his tongue and waited for her to continue.
"So, the appointed hour came and we transferred down to the planet's surface. They had laid on quite a feast. I was a little perturbed to see so many satellite cameras; they hadn't mentioned any broadcast during our meeting. As is customary, I withdrew with Jult'a to discuss my speech. I had barely got through the preliminaries when Jult'a interrupted me. 'This is most unfortunate, but the speech is written for the wrong planet – we do not have those issues here!' Once I recovered my equilibrium, I asked him what his issues were. 'We have a high incidence of adolescent suicide – this is the reason for the performance. The issues you talk of are current on Sirus 70, not Sirus 17!' I immediately excused myself and sought out Procol, I was livid!"
Yulie gulped down another slammer that had magically appeared on the bar while she talked. Procol was certainly looking after his unexpected guest!
"I could imagine," Lewis mused. 'I bet you're a handful,' he thought, deciding against voicing his opinion.
"I tracked Procol down and asked him how he could make such a basic mistake. He was certain he hadn't, so I asked him for the data on Sirus 17. Procol had to admit he had left it back on the ship. The fool had left his datacorder behind, without any confirmation we had to believe them - Sirus 17, Sirus 70, it would be an easy mistake. Procol tried to make amends. He pointed across the room to a spectacularly attractive female Sirusian, 'She is their presenter, why not chat with her, maybe her input will help you modify your speech quickly.' I told him it was a poor compromise, but I saw no alternative." Yulie stopped speaking and swung her body back towards the bar.
"Procol, top up please."
Procol virtually vaulted across the bar, filling her glass without so much as a glance at Yulie.
"Where was I – Oh yes, I ordered Procol back to the ship to check our data. I would stay and try my hardest to avoid a major diplomatic incident. Procol wandered off, looking for the entire world like a failed space cadet. I steeled myself and went to talk to the Sirusian presenter. I introduced myself formally and asked her if I could discuss her presentation in some detail before we began. Her reaction wasn't at all what I expected, she looked mortified and spoke in a whisper 'Not here, follow me.' I walked behind the elegant alien, her body swayed beneath the sheer gown – I got the distinct impression she wore little, or nothing under it." Yulie paused again, it seemed the story was affecting her.
She took a long swig of slammer. I admired her stamina – there was no way I could drink them at that pace.
"She led me to a dressing room, tucked away from the main area. The elegant female spoke quietly 'I'm Circlu'a, what do you want to know about my presentation?' I asked for a brief description of it, nothing too detailed, just an overview so I could make my presentation appropriate. She looked totally bemused, sighed and said 'Well, it's up to you really; I'll follow your lead. My experience is with male presenters, it's unusual for a delegation to use a female.' Now I was bemused, what did she mean 'follow your lead'? Yulie slumped and slammed her empty glass down on the bar.
Procol got the message, refilling the glass swiftly.
"I told her that was the problem, I had little information and was uncertain how to start. Circlu'a's eyes widened in panic 'I told them I wasn't experienced –they said you were' tears welled up into her eyes. I tried to calm her, tell her it was fine, I would go first – I hadn't meant to upset her. She stopped crying and looked at me wide-eyed 'You mean we won't be doing it together?' I said in my experience one at a time was normal; otherwise the audience could get confused. Circlu'a thought about this, and spoke in a grave voice 'I am a professional Duthr'a Kar presenter; I do not give solo presentations. Duthr'a Kar is always performed as a couple. Do you want to insult me in front of my whole race?' I said of course I didn't, what I asked was Duthr'a Kar?""I stood before this delectable creature unable to speak, as the true horror of my situation dawned on me," Yulie shifted a little on her stool, easing her legs slightly apart.
"And then, I know, don't tell me – Procol to the rescue?" Lewis asked, smiling – he had cracked it, this was a wind-up. That Procol, what a guy – he was paying Lewis back for all his tall stories.
"No, no Procol, no rescue. Unless that is, you know what happened next better than me?" Yulie paused, letting her words sink in.
"You mean - this is for real? Not some fertile product of Procol's imagination. Never!" Lewis voiced his deep skepticism.
Yulie reached out and grabbed Lewis's hand; she ran the fingertips over her stiffly erect nipples.
"This is for real, and so is my story," Yulie announced solemnly.
"No shit?" asked Lewis, his mouth dropping open.
Yulie used Lewis's own hand to seal his hanging jaw.
"None, now, do you want to hear the rest?" She asked.
Lewis simply nodded.
"As I was about to make my excuses, and follow Procol back to the ship, the trap closed. Jult'a walked in. 'We are waiting, is there a problem?' he asked in a polite but exasperated voice. I could find no words; my mouth moved, but nothing would come out. Circul'a answered for me, 'None, Jult'a, we are just discussing how to make this Duthr'a Kar worthy of our audience.' As quick as a flash, her elegant hand grabbed the rest of the purple drug and deposited it in my slack mouth. The effect was startling, my body – I swear, my entire body orgasmed, and then continued to peak in delicious after-shocks. Jult'a spoke, 'Excellent, but satellite camera links are expensive, you know, and your audience awaits!' Jult'a left the room, clearly expecting us to follow. Circul'a spoke in hushed, hurried tones, 'Look, this is my career, and it's not going to be ruined by some disorganized alien who can't make up her mind! The drug will help, now let's do it.' With these words still ringing in my dumfounded ears, Circul'a led me from the room." Yulie paused.
"Where is that barman when you need him?" Yulie asked, a little too loudly.
"Here, have mine," Lewis offered.
"Thanks, now let's see, OK. Circul'a led me from the room, out into the main area – all was in darkness, other than a brightly illuminated plinth. Circul'a maneuvered me in front of the plinth and gave me the slightest of pushes. My thighs collided with the edge of the plinth, and I sprawled onto it. I watched in wonder as beautiful blooms sprouted from nowhere, and the sound of angels singing filled my dizzy head. One of the flowers bent down against my mouth, its petals brushing my face. This flower had nipples, or was it stamens, long stiff stamens filling my mouth. I suckled deeply, drinking in the gorgeous nectar; I came again, and again. The leaves stroked me, wiping away my fears, together with my unwanted clothes. I hung my spinning head over the edge of the plinth as the flower cascaded down my body, opening my willing thighs and exploring my wetness – I was in heaven," Yulie sighed, her hand working quickly between her smooth legs.
Lewis moved and pulled at his trousers – he attempted to cover the telltale signs of his burgeoning erection.
Yulie continued, her voice quaking slightly.
"As I hung there, ravished by a beautiful angelic flower, I had an odd hallucination. Procol walked towards me, upside down, and laid a pure gold leaf in my right hand. I looked at the leaf; the strange veins on its surface looked just like writing. How odd, I thought – a plant that can write! It would be so impolite not to read its message. I found it hard to focus my eyes on it," Yulie bucked against her hand, her thighs falling still farther apart – she made no attempt to hide her self-obsessed love.
Lewis swallowed hard, at least he tried to – he found he had no spit.
"What did the leaf write? What did it say? Yulie – Yulie, tell me," Lewis grunted, his own passion spiraling.
Yulie spoke, unsteadily between assorted moans.
"It said... Unnnhhaa! It said – 'they lied; this is the right planet and the right problem! The teens must have infiltrated the elders. This is a trap!' I dropped the clever leaf and watched it drift away. I waved it goodbye, it was autumn – the leaf was dead, it no longer mattered! Ummhhhaaa! Oh god! I'm randy! Take me, Lewis, fuck me!" Yulie dissolved in a heap of multiple orgasms.
Lewis watched Yulie's provocative presentation, lust stirred his erection, and his embarrassment increased in direct proportion to his member's length. He glanced around the room; no one was watching, most of them were busy positioning cameras and lights. Lewis had seen the trap too late!
Yulie raised her head from its slumped position and smiled broadly at Lewis.
"Tonight is my 100th performance, 100 not out!" Yulie grinned as she slipped from the barstool.
Lewis felt Yulie's urgent hands tugging at his fly; in a second, she had his erection nestled deeply in her succulent mouth. Lewis tried to pull away, to run, but his legs refused. His knarled cock pushed back into the wet velvet orifice. Purple flowers waved to him; one he swore looked just like a blob, a blob he should remember – but couldn't. Lewis swung his head around, marveling at the spectacular array of blooms. One of them spoke, "I'm so sorry." Lewis just waved - he no longer cared.
The barman wiped a heartfelt tear from his eye and returned to cleaning the last drops of purple fluid from the glasses that Lewis and Yulie had so recently used. The whole thing had been a trap; the story, whenever listened to, or indeed, read would ensnare the unwary. The whole thing was a ghastly, long, contrived joke.
Chameleon-like Procol color-shifted in embarrassment, and his face burst a little ghostly. Procol, of Harum, turned a whiter shade of pale!
The end. | null | Chapter 2 Yulie's tale | Authors/Yotna_eltoub/Stories/100 not out.txt |
118,230 | null | Sexual Combat | You know me. Well, at least you've heard of me. I'm that guy the preacher man condemns every Sunday. No, I'm not the devil, nor am I one of his pawns. I'm just a working man who has a job he loves. My name is Wayne Carter, and for over 30 years, I've been shooting pornography: straight stuff, gay stuff, simple stuff, wild stuff, young, old, scripted, unscripted, BDSM, even one set where they pranced about like horses in full tack. I've shot everything I could, and frankly, I was getting bored.
Then two separate things came together at just the right time.
Manny was one of my friends. He was unquestionably the ugliest man on the face of the earth. His beard was scraggly like a used Brillo pad, his nose was big and warty, and if he tucked in his arms and legs, he could roll places.
He was also the horniest man I've ever known. Where others have a sex drive, his accelerator was stuck down on the floor; he'd go after anything that could stand him or that couldn't run away fast enough. He was also brilliant; his project of choice was an auto-masturbator, and by that time, he had several models already in production. You may have seen some in the stores; he makes good money there. You'll recognize the symbol in the bottom right corner of the box: a big pink circle with tiny hands, feet, a head, and a dangling penis down below.
Nonetheless, his newest project had been a sensor to tell if you were going to come; the system would try to keep you on the edge for as long as possible. One morning, I met him at the doughnut shop. He was complaining about the new detection system that he had come up with. It monitors the endorphins in a person's system and had the ability to tell if anyone came, but the endorphins came on in a rush too late to do anything about it.
It was that same afternoon when I was approached by a girl. I'll never forget her face. I was at my favorite deli, downing a thick sandwich and a coke when a girl with a decent body and this absolutely beautiful face told me she needed money. Her long, light brown hair and delicate eyebrows and the sweet upturned nose would be at home in any fashion show, but the great thing was the way she moved and acted. If I could package up innocence, it would have the same flavor that I saw in that seat facing mine. She didn't plead for extra scenes like my actors do, and she wasn't trying to dive into the industry like some dumb-ass kid. She wanted a job in the office with a chance for a shot later. I offered her a shot in a flick centering on "First Times," but she wasn't in for baring flesh without a good price above the standard rate. I can't do that and still make money, but then a flash of brilliance hit me. I told her to call me in the afternoon; I may have a challenge for her.
As soon as I got back to my office, I called Manny. "Can that sensor of yours tell if a woman has an orgasm?"
"It should. We both have the same internal release of endorphins, so there should be no problem. Why?"
"How big is the sensor?"
"It fits in a bracelet, or you can tape it to anywhere on the skin. Why?"
"How does it show when the person came?"
"All right, braniac. What you got planned?"
I have to control my excitement. "I think I may have a million-dollar idea here. I'm going to offer people from outside of the sex industry a challenge with those in the industry. Marketing keeps telling me that people are dying for a new face, so I'll offer them money above scale to get naked in front of the camera and do a stunt. If they can do it before the clock winds down, they get the money. Otherwise, they get sub-scale. Right now, I've got a chance at a fresh face with nice tits who needs money. I'll offer a stack of cash... IF she can take... say 15 minutes of cunnilingus without cumming."
"Nice. Yea, we can hook up anything to it. Right now, it sends a value through a wire, but we could put a micro-transmitter on it. Fit in a bracelet. Then the receiver could display if she came or not. You can plug it into the camera so the movie shows how she's doing."
"Excellent. Get it to me today if you can; we'll do a trial run with Melissa. You want to do the honors?" I have to laugh to myself; he's been going gaga over poor Melissa for a month or more, but can't get enough money together to afford her... sideline business.
"Are you kidding??? How much will it cost me?"
"Think of it as the first installment on what I owe you for your invention."
Melissa wasn't all that big on having Manny between her legs, but she accepted the job like the trooper she is. Of course, she wanted one of the regular guys playing with her tits so she doesn't have to look at the big slug, but if the sensor really works, I'll be able to make much more money than I waste on a trial run with extra staff.
We put Manny into a Jungle Man suit. His hairy back and protruding brow ridge made it look like he was a 300 lb Neanderthal brought back to life.
I gave her the bracelet; this one looks like a gold bangle bracelet, and she put it on. Then Melissa went onto the set, lying down on a pile of furs and hides, looking up at the other pro, Steve, who began caressing her breasts. I could see the level marker rise as his hands got rougher. I called "Action" and watched the monitors.
Manny went at Melissa like a parched man at water, sticking his tongue into her as far as it would go, opening her outer lips with his fingers and stroking up and down. After a minute or so, she started breathing hard, then bucking, but the level didn't change much. It certainly wasn't high enough to set off the "Cum Alarm." She called out like she was coming, but only hovered about 1/3 of the way up the scale. I stopped the filming.
"Did you really cum there, Melissa?"
"Sure. Didn't you see it? That's how I always cum."
"Actually, it looked good, but what we're trying to do here is find out if this sensor on your wrist works. You really have to cum to set it off."
"Are you serious?"
"Yep."
"Then we may have a problem. Steve, I think you will have to sit this one out after all. Mister, uh, what's your name?"
"Manny," he calls out, wiping his flabby face.
"You need a few pointers. That thing they lick in the films is my clit. Circle it with your tongue. Lap at it. Suck on it. Rub it with your fingers. DON'T SCRATCH IT WITH YOUR NAILS AGAIN! And sticking your tongue into me is great as added spice. It isn't the main thing. Licking my clit IS. You use your tongue like a 12-year-old's dick; always sticking in a little bit, not sure where to put it, and not getting in far. Stick in fingers; they're longer. And my G-spot is in there; look for it."
Poor Manny's ego deflated in front of us. But he was getting at his dream girl (for the month)'s pussy, so he gave it a second try. I started the cameras again as he pushed her legs apart. Manny then applied his tongue, this time licking at her clit. When she moaned some encouragement, he redoubled his efforts, going wild at her clit, slowly inserting his finger, then two, and then three into her wet vagina. The tape was running around 8 minutes when his fingers found her G-spot. I didn't have to watch the monitor; her hips bucked, and her juices flowed out a second later.
She started to call out in a high-pitched voice, grabbing her hard nipples and pulling them, her mouth open, eyes closed. A moment later, Manny hit it again, this time staying at the point, rubbing little circles with his fingers.
You know, I've used Melissa for 3 months, and that was the first time I think she actually came?! Blood rushed to her face, the blush racing down as far as her breasts. She pulled at her nipples as she bucked her hips into Manny's face. It went on for about 15 or 20 seconds before she fell back into the chair. She bucked in aftershocks and pushed a stunned Manny away. There is something beautiful about a woman when she has had a good orgasm, and even a beauty like Melissa looks sexier.
"Not bad, Manny," she said, once her breath had returned. "Not bad at all."
I looked at the replay, and there, while her face was blushing and as her body shook, the alarm went off. Perfect.
A few hours later, I got the call from the deli girl. "Here's the deal. I'll offer you $100 for an hour in front of the camera. One guy will strip you and touch you, avoiding your pussy. Then you lay down on a bed. He gets 15 minutes to get you off using his tongue and/or fingers, but not his dick. If you cum in that time, he'll have sex with you in a few different poses during the remainder of the hour, and that's it. If you can keep from coming, then he'll continue to suck you until you cum, and our session is done. And you get $2000 extra."
"$2100 for one hour? Are you nuts?"
"No. I need the new face, and I get to use the tape either way. And I want an exclusive contract with you for one year, in case you want to join the business."
"Yeah," she says, "like that will happen."
"You never know, and I want an in on the action in case you become a phenom."I want that part of the pie."
"And someone gets mine while I am in front of your cameras. But that's it? $2100 and I don't have to see you again?"
"Unless you want to. And the two grand is only for if you don't come. One other question; what's your name?"
"I wondered if you would ask. It's Christina. I'll be there tomorrow."
I can't believe I'm going to do this. Me. Christina. A good girl from the age of 6. It's not like I haven't had a number of boyfriends, even had sex a dozen times or so, but not all THAT much experience. And I'm kinda body-shy, and I've got to be naked in front of a camera. And a bunch of people. I mean I've only had cunnilingus done on me twice by one of the guys, but it wasn't all that good so I don't think I'll have any problem... and it didn't last long before he jumped up and plunged his dick into me anyway. I mean, like, what's the deal?
Well, what's the worst that can happen? I get a couple of bucks and have sex on a movie that no one is going to see. And if I make it I get a month's paycheck.
They could have picked something better for a costume, though. I must admit it's good to have a costume, even if Wayne tells me that it will be ripped off early in the movie. But look at the red and gold halter-top. It doesn't fit unless I strap it on really tight, and it barely covers my breasts. Heck, they try to peek out under the bottom. And the blue spandex biker shorts pull up into my crotch so hard you can see my privates as easily as when I'm not wearing anything at all. Well, I guess they are supposed to be slimy looking; it is a porno flick after all. And of course, the bracelet with the sensor thingie. I don't know if I like a computer telling me if I came.
This is just too weird. I shouldn't do it. And I have to be naked in front of all those people. And I have to let someone I don't know touch me down there. It's just wrong; I should go. But I do need the money. And I do feel kinda turned on... somehow dirty. Sexy. Most certainly unusual.
"Wayne?"
"Yes, Christina?"
"I'm ready, I guess. What next?"
"Ok. I've got two timer-clocks; one for session time, one for your contest time. I've got the set in a "Gladiator" style ring, with the bed at the far side of the circle. You jump through that paper on that side, and Steve will jump through the other side. We'll announce you first. If you want to wrestle with him on the floor for a minute or two first, all the better. Then play along with my directions until he pulls off your clothes and tosses you onto the bed. As soon as he gets between your legs and touches your cunt, I start the second clock. You can see it from the bed. If you can keep from cumming, I'll announce your win, then relax and let him finish. Otherwise he'll follow my instructions and you two will have some hot sex for the remainder of the hour. Got it?"
"Yep. Let's get it over with."
"That's the spirit. Take your places... Action!"
I see him hit the first timer and the announcer's voice comes through some speakers while cameras come at me from all sides.
"Welcome to Sexual Combat, where the challenge is met on the King Size Field. Our first challenger is Tina Tiny, a beautiful native of Sunnydale Florida."
I jumped at the pseudonym; the Tina is close to my real name, the rest was made up. I remember to smile and wave at the camera when Wayne yells for me to do so. Then the lights on my camera go off as they do a bit on the guy on the other side of the set. I feel the adrenaline rush as the announcer says, "Now lets Haaaaave At It!" That's my cue; I jump through the paper wall into the ring to see Steve strutting about, eyeing me up and down. He's in a gladiator costume with a breastplate and gold lame biker shorts. Steve is over six feet tall, and every visible inch is covered with muscles; now that's a gorgeous hunk of a man! Not a bad one to have between my legs! I wonder if he'll ask me for a date after, I mean he is sooo cute. Wait... I don't want to be thinking this; I'll get all turned on and I don't want to make it easy for him.
He holds out a hand while making a muscle and I decide to try for it; I grab his wrist and try to do a Judo throw like they do in the movies. Uggh. He really is strong. I pull, getting him off balance, but he re-sets himself and grabs my wrist, lifting upwards and I can't help it as he moves me closer to him. I look up into those brown eyes and he sneers down at me, challenging me to do something to him. I punch at his stomach and hit the plastic chest plate. I surprised him there; his hand relaxes and I pull out of his grip. I dance to the side and pull off the plastic armor, but he catches my right hand in his right as I pull it away from his body. I toss away the armor, but he spins me around and I find myself with my back to him, my arm trapped around my belly under his.
His other hand pushes my head to the side and I feel him bend down to kiss my neck, his hand continuing down to stroke my belly below my arm, then down to touch my crotch. His touch is surprisingly soft, and I wonder at it, no longer struggling. Now his hand moves back up across my arm and I remember where I am. I begin to flail my free arm, pounding it into his leg and thigh as he grabs the halter and lifts. The strings in the back give way quickly and my breasts burst forth from their constricted space. The cool air feels good and I take a deep breath, letting them jut outwards. His mouth returns to my neck, nuzzling, kissing, sucking. It's so erotic, so relaxing. I stop pounding at him with my free arm, and pull his head down for more. Mmmmm. I sigh softly as his lips move forward to the sensitive spot under my neck. I can feel my knees weaken, my insides betraying me, and the realization that I'm making it easier for him slaps me like cold water across my face. I pull hard, breaking free and push him back towards the cameras. He stumbles and I circle to the left.
We circle for a few moments like a lion and a gazelle. I remember my course in karate from when I was a kid and watch his shoulders. They flinch and he dives at me. I jump to the side, but not fast enough. His big hands grab hold of my shorts and they come apart at the seams, leaving me naked. I dance to the side as he lunges again... wait, I forgot to look around; the bed hits me on the side of my leg and I fall backwards on it.
He is on me in no time flat, kneeling at the edge of the bed between my legs, stroking my chest, fingers dancing on my nipples, sliding up and down my stomach. This also feels really good, and I try to tell myself that I don't like it; I need to be able to hold out for a good bit of time. I look over at the clock; Wayne has his hand over the start button for the 2nd clock, but the first says that only about 5 minutes has gone by so far. That's not fair; it feels more like 20. I guess it's my fault for not watching closer.
Ahhhh. The warmth of a mouth on my right nipple. Tongue making circles around the edges of the areola and flicking the sensitive tip. One hand squeezing the breast around its base, elevating the nipple to the sucking mouth, the other rubbing in circles, now pinching the nipple, now touching it with feather light strokes. My legs relax into the soft bed, enjoying the sensation. After all, he hasn't gone towards my pussy yet.
He switches his mouth to the left nipple and I moan as his hand grasps my hard right nipple and pulls upwards, lifting my C cup breast from its resting place on my chest. The sensation is terribly strong, an electric tingle that runs straight down to my clit.
Oh, no. I'm way too turned on. I've got to get my mind off of those great lips on my nipple. I must keep in control! Got to think of something else.
I look over at the clock; 10 minutes down, and he hasn't started the second timer. This is going to be harder than I thought. The suction on my left breast increases and I look down into those brown eyes, as he pulls my breast upwards until the skin is taught, using only the suction of his lips on my nipple. I squeal at the feeling, my insides doing summersaults as his tongue flicks the sensitive nipple. With a slight "pop" my breast pulls free of that incredible mouth, and he begins a slow decent, kissing and licking down to his new target. I'm not really ready; I need a moment to get my composure. Hey; he's tickling my belly button with his tongue. Oh. I had trimmed my pubic hair short for the session, and somehow the whole area seems to be more sensitive now. That might have been a mistake.
I see the second timer start just as I feel his lips on my labia, kissing up and down at that secret junction between my legs. He pulls the lips apart, and his tongue teases the opening to my vagina as he moves slowly up and down my entrance, going a bit higher with each stroke. My stomach flexes of its own as he hits my clit on his way up. I feel his hands on my ankles, pulling my legs up onto his shoulders; I don't resist. What I'm worried about are the feelings that his tongue is making at the core of my being.
He starts moving in another direction. Like an upside-down U, his tongue is running above the little hood that covers my clitoris, pushing the skin down onto the sensitive bulb. It warms me up without the harsh pressures that always turned me off in the past. Oh that strong little tongue of his, sliding left to right and back again. Come on! Stop teasing me. Wait. Stop that. I'm not supposed to enjoy this??!?
I push my butt down into the bed, away from the soft, teasing tongue, but he follows like a champion, not letting me free for an instant. Then he changes his plan of attack again, flattening his tongue on my clit, rolling it in circles. Oh god. That's sooo good.I'm not going to make it. No. Don't say that. I'm... oooooohhhhh... No, really, I will. I will. Oooohhh.
Wayne says something, but I didn't catch it. I look over at the clock; two minutes down. Suddenly, a finger slides its way up into my moist slit, rubbing, seeking, filling me and removing itself. I can't help but buck into the finger, the pleasure pushing at my mind. In and out, with the mouth at my clit. I think I've lost. I can't bear it; I need to come.
I groan as the fingers leave my vagina, and I feel the strong hands on my inner thighs. He has pulled his head back and starts blowing cold air onto my clit, bringing me back from the edge. Too close, I thought. He could have had me there; it's a good thing for me that he stopped. I look down at the face of my lover as he places my feet on the edge of the bed, about a foot to either side of my waist, and my labia pull open on their own. He looks up at me and says, "I could have had you, and I'm going to. Easily. You ought to relax. Enjoy. You're going to have a great time," and drops his head back down to my open cunt.
His tongue lashes quickly up and down, drawing a zigzag line first on the left of my clit, then touching it on the left, directly on top, then on the right edge, then all the way to the right, and comes back. I feel so open, so exposed. The whole world is watching me. I can't let myself submit. Oooooo. The pleasure is indescribable. His hand leaves my left ankle and strokes the length of my slit, each stroke entering a little farther, until his finger is in me to the hilt. He pulls out and repeats with a second finger, then with both together. I'm floating at the edge; the slow pumping in and out as he goes up and down the length of my slit, the quick tongue tickling my clit...
"Oooooh Gaaaawwwwdddd," I moan as he pulls his fingers out of me again. That's not fair. I was almost there. My legs flex and pump my butt up and down of their own volition. Slowly, I can feel myself pulling back from the edge, still excited, looking at him. My ass rests on the edge of the bed again as my eyes plead with him for release.
He dives back down, sliding his fingers into my wet hole, manipulating me like a puppet. His lips and tongue dance small circles about my clit. I take to his tongue as gasoline takes to a match. I'm so close. If he doesn't make me cum in the time limit, I'll fuck him anyway. On camera, for free. I don't care. I want to cum. I need to cum. The warmth floods over me, and I feel my toes curl into a tight knot, grasping the edge of the mattress. In and out go his fingers, twisting now in a circle.
"Ohhh... Ohhh... Ohhh.." I hear. It's my own voice, responding in time with his magical fingers. My nipples are hard pebbles, and I can't help pressing my hips into his mouth and fingers. My body is no longer my own, responding to the stimulation that is pushing me over the edge.
He starts flicking my clit from side to side and turns his hand, seeking my G-spot. When he hits it, the flairs of passion make me shout out, "Oh god! Shiiiiit! Oh, Shit, I'm cuuuuming! More! More! MORE! Yes! Aaaaaah!" I'm screaming, my body tense as a live wire, that magical tongue lashing me into oblivion. I buck into the tongue, my head shaking back and forth, my hair flying out, whipping left and right, and the fire keeps flying between my legs.
"Aaaaaugh!" I cry, trying to curl into a tight ball around his face. Then the wave passes, leaving me in a buzz of afterglow. I relax back on the bed, my arms spread wide, soaking in the feeling of his lips kissing my inner thighs, his fingers slowly removing themselves from my battered cunt. The warmth of the lights on my body, and the coolness of the blankets.
"I win," he says, "And now I claim my prize!"
I barely notice as he stands and removes his shorts. He lifts me up like a rag-doll and tosses me to the middle of the bed as he clambers on behind me. Flipping me onto my belly, his large hands lift my hips, slapping my butt into his stomach, and I feel his large dick rub my belly from beneath.
One hand holds my hip as he lets me fall forward, my head resting on the blanket. He grabs hold of himself and puts the head at my well-lubricated opening, rubbing up and down my slit to lubricate his cock. Then he slams me back onto his penis, and I feel its wonderful girth, every inch, as it makes its way in towards my womb. His first thrust only got about 2/3 of it into me, so he pulls back and thrusts into me again and again, until he is in all of the way.
It doesn't hurt; thanks to that orgasm, I'm leaking lubrication all over the bed, but it was uncomfortable at first. It's a sensation of stretchy-fullness; thicker than I've had before, but a good feeling that floods to my head and down to the pit of my stomach. I push up onto all fours as I quickly warm up to the motion. Ahh, that IS a good rhythm he's setting up, and I push back into him. The camera is in my face, looking underneath at my swinging tits, and I can't help grinning, but I want to concentrate on the feelings, and so close my eyes and lean my head back.
I don't think I'm usually all that noisy, am I? I'm sure making sounds now, though. Not that I care, I breathe in as he pulls out, and as he slaps into my ass with his thighs, I let go with a moan. I can't help it; it isn't my fault. He took advantage of me. That must be it. I'm just a good girl being forced into something perverted. I smile at the thought, and his hand comes up to cup my right breast, pinching at the nipple. Oh... Not again. I don't think I can come again... I... I... I...
Wait. He let go of my breast. Oh. His arms pull me to the side, and we fall together like a pair of spoons, and I feel his hot cock slip away from me, but I push down at him, greedily keeping him inside of me. He pulls at my thigh, lifting my leg into the air on the outside of his knee. Still behind me, he quickly pulls back and then thrusts deeply into me, making me jump, then I grind myself into that wonderful dick. His left hand, the arm trapped under me, reaches up to grab a handful of my breast, pulling at the nipple. His right arm traces slowly down my belly as we thrust at each other. This position puts the head of his penis right at my G-spot. It makes my body tingle each time we thrust into each other. I know we've been doing this for a good while, but lying here impaled on that fantastic cock makes time immaterial. Then his hand touches my clit, and I start to vibrate.
I gulp in breaths as the sensations overwhelm me, making stunned squeaking noises in my rapture. My muscles tense, my back arches, sucking him into me as deeply as possible. Then more shocks hit me. I can see my leg flailing up and down, raised in the air over his knee. I feel my face flush as my body begins bucking, the muscles in my vagina squeezing his dick for all that I'm worth, trying to milk his come from him. All the world is my orgasm, from my stiffly clenched toes, my hands grabbing the blanket and his arm, to the pulsing I feel in my cunt as his dick prepares to send forth its pent up load of sperm. I think I can feel the whole length of him, from where the base of his shaft splits my sensitive opening apart to the blunt pressure so near to my cervix. My vaginal wall feeling the fullness of his invasion of my poor, out of control body. The muscles squeezing and massaging that long shaft that fills me so completely. The wet finger circles my clit again...
"Aaaaaaargh," I yell. Followed by the sounds my spasaming body forces from my lungs. "Oh.. Ohh. Ohh. Ohhhhhhh." I fall forward onto my belly, totally sated and exhausted from our efforts, and feel him pull his still hard dick out of me.
The next thing I know, it is looking me in the face. He pumps the length with his right hand, and as he thrusts forwards, I feel the hot splat of cum on my cheek. I make a face and give out with a "Yuck." This was an unwise choice; his second shot fills my mouth with the warm, salty stuff. I spit it out as the third string draws a line across my forehead. I collapse back onto the bed, defeated, covered in sperm.
"Aaaaand Cut!" I hear.
Well, it's over. I take the offered towel and wipe off my face.
"Not bad," he says. "You only lasted about 7 minutes, I'm sorry to say. But you have a real knack for the sexual theater. You could make a killing in this business. We could actually see your stomach muscles roll as you came. I think we could work out a rather lucrative contract if you join us full time."
I take the hundred bucks and leave. I'm no whore to do that kind of thing, I tell myself in the shower at home. I don't like that kind of thing. No. Not for me. It was fun the one time... I notice that my hand has wandered to my cunt and is making little U's like his tongue did, and I lean against the cool shower wall...
Well, I guess I'll think about it. Later. First, I think I'll masturbate myself into a small gelatinous ball. | null | null | Authors/Dabbler/SCombat.txt |
118,563 | NaughtyHughey | BugOn | Yeah, I know what you're thinking, "wtf?" I was house-sitting for my aunt and uncle outside of Oroville, CA. They have a nice house in a creek canyon with horses. My vacation was to hang out at their beautiful place while they spent a week in Hawaii. Fair trade-off.
This week started off with temperatures above 100 degrees. It's hot early.
One great thing about their place, no nearby neighbors. Gated driveway, lots of trees... Pure isolation if I wanted, and I did. Hell, I could walk around naked all day and no one would see me.
Well, that's what I started doing with it being so damn hot.
I had two choices, stay inside to keep cool or hang out by the creek with a cooler full of beer. Easy choice there for this guy.
The creek was about 150 yards from the house. Must have been a sight to see watching this naked guy carrying a big cooler and a beach chair down to the creek. OK, I wore a hat.
11:00 AM, it's hot, I'm on vacation, it's time for a cold beer. You've got to love vacations.
It was quite the turn-on being naked in the wilderness. I normally live in the burbs.
I sat there enjoying the scenery and drinking a beer. Damn, it was nice. I started to get hot (and buzzed) so I waded into the creek. It was still pretty cold. It felt like my balls were in shock and were trying to hide behind my spleen.
There was a large rock a few feet off-shore, so I went over and sat on it. Nice contrast between the warm rock and the cold water on my legs.
I sat there for a bit and noticed hundreds of bugs around the water's edge. It was like a swarm of these lightly colored bugs. I then noticed that there were a lot around the water line of the rock I was sitting on.
I splashed water on them, and they flew off and then flew right back. A few landed on my leg. I was just about to swat them, thinking they were mosquitoes or something. Instead of biting me, they started doing what looked like pushups. Really fast pushups, and I could feel their vibrations through the hair on my legs and skin.
This was trippy; never seen bugs like these before. Looking all around, I could see these swarms of bugs all doing the vibrating pushups. I then noticed some mating. That's it, it's a mating swarm.
It was interesting watching them, and more and more kept landing on me. I scooted back a little on the rock so I could bend over to look at them closer. That movement caused my balls to rest against the rock near the water line. Next thing I know, there were like a dozen of them on my balls.
Just before I was about to panic and splash them off, I felt their vibrations. Now they're all over my legs and balls. I hated to admit it, but it felt strangely nice. More landed on my cock, so now I felt the vibration on my legs, balls, and now cock.
This was really weird, I'm getting turned on by a bunch of bugs. I quickly looked around, making sure no one was around, and then just watched. My cock started growing, and more landed on it. A few landed on the head of it, creating the vibration sensation there.
Damn, a hard-on by bugs. That's a first for this guy. The sensation was awesome. It was like a tickling vibration in all of my sensitive areas around my groin, and pre-cum started oozing from my cock. I leaned back, closed my eyes, and enjoyed the weird experience.
Suddenly, I felt something heavier land on the head of my cock. I opened my eyes, and there was a butterfly. There were quite a few butterflies, bees, and other insects on shore getting water since it was so hot. I didn't expect this though.
Now I feel this tickling sensation in my piss hole. I leaned to the side to see what that butterfly was doing, and it had its long tongue dipping in my pre-cum. Maybe it was after the salt. Its long tongue dipped down into my piss hole a few times, and I mean it had a long tongue going down there. It was like tickling the inside of my cock head.
I needed to jerk off really bad now. This tickling and vibration was driving me nuts, but I didn't want it to stop. The butterfly finally flew off, and I calmed down a little. I closed my eyes again to enjoy the pushup bugs. A few moments later, I felt another heavier bug land on the head of my cock. I kept my eyes closed and waited for the tickle.
There was the feeling again in my piss hole area. Then I noticed that the feeling of the butterfly legs was different. It wasn't that feather touch, and the tickling was definitely different.
I opened my eyes and about had a heart attack. The biggest black wasp that I have ever seen is now on my dick. It's almost as long as my pinky with metallic blue wings. I froze, but also twitched my cock involuntarily. The wasp buzzed its wings, then settled down again to drink my salty pre-cum.
The last thing I wanted was that big fucker stinging my cock. The little bugs flew off, except for the ones on my legs and balls. It seemed like forever feeling that wasp on my dick. I can feel its big head sucking my pre-cum. Its ass end with a big ass stinger was throbbing, while its front legs kept sliding and moving on me.
I am sitting there in shock, watching this wasp. Why I didn't lose my erection, I don't know. Might have been a good thing I didn't because I can picture my cock shrinking with my foreskins trapping its legs, then stinging the shit out of me.
That giant wasp finally flew off, and I flew off that rock into the creek. After chilling out in the creek, I got out and sat in my chair to finish my beer. I got pretty drunk after that near dick slapping.
Luckily the rest of the week didn't involve a black wasp, but the cute neighbor instead. I'll save that for another time. | null | null | Authors/NaughtyHughey/BugOn.txt |
118,744 | null | Mr. Damsel in Distress | You slowly awaken. You're sitting in a slightly twisted position, leaning back with your head tilted. The world is blurry as you open your eyes. You feel cloth in your mouth, and your arms are restrained. Your mind is in a fog, too confused to understand what's happened to you. The air is cool and still. You realize you're sitting in a chair. As your vision comes into focus, you see you're in a very open, empty building, dimly lit from lighting somewhere above. Some other people are standing around. A man close to you notices your movement.
"Coo yah, this man is coming around," he announces with a Jamaican accent. He's a black man with long dreadlocks tied back, and a submachine gun in his hands. He steps back and turns to another man wearing a suit and a fedora hat. Memories start to flood your mind. It's the night of the fundraiser at the Grand Hotel. You remember being taken from a hotel room. You look down to see rope tied around your midriff, restraining your arms. The cloth in your mouth is tied around your head. You've been bound and gagged. You try to move your feet and feel that your ankles are tied together as well. The men from the hotel—posing as room service—kidnapped you, injected you with something, and brought you to what looks like an old, empty warehouse. The man in the fedora approaches you. He's casually flipping a large gold coin up in the air and catching it.
"Hey hey, Daddy-O," he says. "So you're awake already? Welcome to the party. We aren't quite ready to get things started, but real soon we'll be getting down to business."
He speaks in a disarmingly friendly tone, but it does little to dispel your fear. He turns to look at a man and woman standing by stacks of large wooden crates. A laptop computer sits on one of the crates, and the two are studying the screen.
"Ain't that right?" the man confidently calls to them. "How's it looking?"
"I'm still monitoring activity," the woman says scornfully. "With the intel from inside, I anticipate the last of the funds will be secured within the hour. I'll inform you when that happens."
"See, here's the situation," says the man in the fedora, catching his coin one last time before stooping down to your eye level. "This is your first time, so I'll clue you. We're going to be setting up a smooth transaction here, and you're our hot commodity. Leading man of Metro City's jet-set, heir to the great House Damsel—and a prince, too! You're worth top dollar to a whole lot of fat cats. Even to some you don't even know—or even wanna know. So it's business, you dig?"
He exhales and inches closer to your face, putting his hand on the back of your chair. You can smell his cologne. His pretty eyes stare deep into yours, feigning warmth and sympathy.
"But the thing is, your Utopia Foundation has incurred some cost to our organization, and it's time to settle the debt. With significant interest. The bosses don't like it when do-gooders rock the boat. I mean the free clinics, aid programs, working with the coppers, yada yada yada. It's all been a real drag on our operations."
He smiles handsomely, stands up straight, and gestures to the two people by the computer.
"Your latest little 'Save the World' project has taken in quite a tidy sum. Just sitting in that account, all wrapped up with a ribbon on top. It'll keep things simple. We make the demand, and they'll happily cash it out to us. Then they get you back, safe as kittens, and you go home with a greater understanding of things. Maybe make some changes in your company. Get some new management with different ideas."
He flips his coin again. Your heart breaks as it all sinks in. You were aware your status made you a target for ransom, theoretically. But did you imagine it would ever happen? It pains and angers you that they would extort the Foundation. They shouldn't give up the capital they've raised. The aid project is too important.
You try to talk, try to start a negotiation, but you can't speak through the gag. He just smiles at you and shakes his head disapprovingly. You test your restraints in frustration and anguish.
"Now, cool it, man," he says. "We'll handle everything. You just chill and think about how nice it'll be to go home."
"Sir," the woman calls, quickly turning from the computer. "It's time."
"Here we go," the man in the fedora says.
A thunderous voice booms from above: "Hold it right there, villains!"
You're all startled and look around in confusion. A large man plummets from above and ably lands in the center of everyone with a deep thud, his black cape swirling around him. The muscle-bound, dark-haired man stands up tall and imposing, and sets his fists on his hips. He's clad in a tight, silvery costume with dark gloves and boots that match his cape. Over his massive chest is emblazoned a black, ringed planet that resembles Saturn. His handsome face looks stern under a furrowed brow.
"Allow me to introduce myself," he says loudly. "I am Captain Astro, Defender of Earth! Drop your weapons and step away from Mr. Damsel at once, or face my might!"
His powerful voice resounds through the warehouse like a god's. You are struck with awe in his presence, for a moment forgetting your predicament. You've heard of this man, this hero, but have never seen him in person. The men around you are similarly dumbfounded.
"Light him up!" the man in the fedora shouts to his group. They move forward, swing their guns and open fire on Captain Astro. You cringe at the loud, blasting gunfire. To your great relief, Captain Astro is unfazed by the hail of bullets. He's completely unharmed. As per his reputation, he seems to be impervious!
"Rhaatid!" the Jamaican yells over the gunfire. "He's bulletproof, bredda!"
"Enough!" says Captain Astro. "You can't hope to beat me. Surrender!"
"Kill him, damn it!" the man in the fedora hollers, sounding more desperate. He grabs you from the chair and throws you over his shoulder. You squirm and try to get off of him, but the ropes make you helpless. When you raise your head, you see Captain Astro rush the Jamaican and disarm him. After taking the submachine gun away, he swings and knocks the Jamaican to the ground with the end of it. As the other men continue firing at him, Captain Astro bends the gun to render it useless and throws it to the ground. Then he turns and flies at another gunman—actually flying, after pushing strongly off the ground—and he knocks the man off his feet with tremendous force. A bigger thug drops the rifle in frustration and swings a fierce punch. Captain Astro blocks and catches his arm with a skilled martial arts form. The thug tries to wrestle free, but Captain Astro strikes him powerfully and he goes down.
The man in the fedora yells in frustration and swiftly starts to carry you away. When Captain Astro notices, he turns and angrily shouts, "Stop!" More of the gunmen yell in rage and continue shooting at him. The Captain swiftly retaliates. With amazing athleticism, he confronts and disarms the men before taking them down. You're astonished as he grabs one in each hand and effortlessly throws them across the room. His strength is incredible! They fly back and smash into some crates, splintering the wood and toppling the stack.
While you're watching Captain Astro, you feel an impact and suddenly you are falling. The man who was carrying you yells out, and you shut your eyes, expecting to hit the floor. Strong arms catch you, and hold you steady. You slowly open your eyes to see that you're in the arms of another brawny man in a silver costume. He has caramel-colored skin, and is wearing a high-tech visor that obscures his eyes. His shiny black hair is tousled and spiky.
"Hey," he greets you, wearing a friendly grin. "It's okay. I've got you."
His voice is youthful and good-humored. In a daze, you look for the man in the fedora. He's down on the ground, not moving. His hat is lying next to him. Then you notice Captain Astro striding toward you.
"Sorry I'm late, Cap," says the hero holding you. "Caught a few more out there."
"Nice work, Cadet," Captain Astro responds. "Is he all right, Turbo?"
Captain Astro looks down at you worriedly and unties your gag.
"Are you all right, Mr. Damsel?" he repeats with concern. "Did they hurt you?"
You still feel the grip of shock, and find yourself breathing heavily. Falteringly, you tell him you're okay.
His eyes full of concern, and his large jaw set stonily, Captain Astro quickly undoes the rope around your ankles and pulls it away. His partner gently lets you down, and soon they have you free of your bondage. You try to calm your nerves and your breathing, and you rest your hand on the Cadet's big shoulder for support. He comfortingly puts his arm around you.
"It's over now, Mr. Damsel," Captain Astro assures you. "I'm sorry this happened. We'll get you to safety."
You hear screeching tires and the whine of an engine. Through the open warehouse door, you can see a black sport utility vehicle rapidly approach and skid to a halt outside.
"Uh-oh, I think I missed one," the Cadet says with embarrassment.
"Did you check the vehicles?" Captain Astro asks. "You didn't, did you?""I'll take care of it, sir," says the Cadet. "You take him out of here. I'll catch up."
He nods to you, and you step back to let him go.
"Keep your focus, Cadet," Captain Astro tells him.
"Yes, sir!"
The Cadet turns and runs toward the door. His silver costume is different from the Captain's: it's less fantastic, and in more of a recognizable military style. It's like a sleek astronaut's jumpsuit with some functional accessories. Like Captain Astro, he has an icon on his chest. It kind of looks like a vortex, with a whirling star shape.
Captain Astro takes you in his big arms and follows after his friend while carrying you. As you emerge out of the warehouse into the lot, three men jump out of the SUV and raise their guns. The Cadet suddenly zooms forward at incredible speed. He becomes a silver blur, zipping by two of the men and knocking them away, disarming them in the process. They yell in pain and surprise as they hit the pavement. You watch in awe, before Captain Astro holds you close and launches himself into the air.
Cool air strongly blows past, and you cling to Captain Astro as he takes you high above the buildings. Rushing wind fills your ears, and the city falls away below. The Captain slows his ascent after reaching a great height. The wind calms, and the Captain floats easily in the air.
You look about in wonder. The vibrant lights of Metro City gleam far below you. You can see for miles and miles until the horizon. Puffy clouds drift above, illuminated by the pale moonlight. Captain Astro's bulky, muscular body warms you from the chilly air. There is safety and security in his arms.
Your eyes meet with an intense emotional spark. His expression softens a great deal and he smiles down at you. The moonlight shines on his face so you are able see him better than you have before. He's very handsome, with attractive masculine features, a robust jawline, and a cleft chin. His short black hair is slicked back neatly. In accordance with his moniker of "Captain", he appears very much like a tough military man.
"It's all right now," he assures you again, smiling warmly.
You finally find your voice and thank him. In a dazed ramble you ask him about the Cadet, wondering if he'll be all right.
"Don't worry, sir," he says. "I promise he can handle them easily. Our priority is your rescue. I'll take you home, all right?"
You nod, and breathe deeply in relief. You inform him where you live: a penthouse in one of the tallest buildings in Uptown. After listening to the details, Captain Astro holds you close and flies off toward your building.
The city moves by below you, still so active and busy in the late night hour. You look up at Captain Astro as he determinedly flies you home. He's amazing. You were fascinated by the news of Metro City's super-powered hero, but stories are so removed and uncertain. Tonight, with your own eyes, you have witnessed incredible feats by two extraordinary men. In a dark hour, they appeared out of nowhere to save you from those dangerous criminals. You have been blessed by fortune, and humbled by the good will of strangers.
You reach Uptown, and Captain Astro glides toward your building. The sight of home is greatly comforting. You point out the spacious balcony of your condominium, realizing it is a convenient place for him to land. The Captain nods in agreement. He lightly touches down, and searches for any sign of trouble inside your home. Seeing that it's safe, he gently lets you down on your feet. You cling to his powerful body as you find your footing, and then your eyes meet again, with his face very close to yours. Your heart thumps as tense moments pass, and you both linger in the intimacy. With one arm still around you, Captain Astro rubs his gloved hand down the side of your body and keeps you close. He looks serious, and somewhat puzzled as he stares fixedly into your eyes. You precipitously lean in and kiss his lips.
Captain Astro immediately kisses you back, as if unleashing some restrained vigor. His spark of enthusiasm takes your breath away, and you let him have his way with you. Your eyes flutter closed as you enjoy feeling his firm lips move over yours. He exhales powerfully through his nose as he slides his tongue into your mouth. He tentatively explores you, and you slow down into a nice movement. After the long kiss his mouth leaves yours and, smiling, you quietly take in a deep breath. With his eyes closed, Captain Astro rests his forehead against yours and lightly clears his throat. The wind picks up around the balcony, and the Captain holds you closer as it blows by and ruffles his cape.
"Here I am!" calls a familiar friendly voice. You and Captain Astro look up to see the Cadet slowly descending from the air, surrounded by a strong current of wind. It blows powerfully as he lands with grace on the wide balcony, and then the air disperses and quickly settles down. He grins with shiny white teeth and stands up tall. Smiling happily, you rush to meet the Cadet. He's taken by surprise as you throw your arms around him and give him a strong hug. You thank him for helping rescue you and inquire about who he is, since you are unable to recall any mention of Captain Astro working with another hero.
"You can call me Turbo Cadet, Mr. Damsel," he says, giving you a small salute. "As you just saw, I can control the wind. And I can move extremely fast. I picked up the name 'The Silver Speedster', too—you know, because of the uniform."
"He's my subordinate, and a trusted friend," says the Captain. "He's still in training. Report, Cadet?"
"Sir, I neutralized the rest of the men. Made a final sweep. The police would arrive soon, so I followed after you."
"All right, Cadet. Well done."
Turbo Cadet turns to you and says, "This was my fourth time out in the field. I'm almost as strong as Cap—I mean physically—but he still isn't too eager to let me come along."
"All right, Cadet," says the Captain reprovingly. "Mr. Damsel's still shaken. Let's get him inside and safe."
Captain Astro opens your door and lets you into the apartment. You exchange a knowing glance as you move by him, but then you shyly look away. The impulsive, passionate moment you shared has now built an awkward tension, especially after being interrupted by the Cadet. You don't know if the Cadet saw at all, since he didn't make a comment or act any differently. Confused by your actions and feeling embarrassed, you decide to let it go. The three of you walk into your apartment and have a look around to make sure the criminal gang didn't break in. You slowly wander from room to room, turning on lights and casting your eyes about. After what happened to you, you somehow feel like a stranger in your own home. It's as if you've returned after spending years and years away. Notwithstanding that vague, strange feeling, you don't get the sense that anyone has broken into your home. You tell Captain Astro that nothing seems out of place. Turbo Cadet also reports that everything seems secure.
"Okay," Captain Astro says with a quick nod. "That's good. I'm very glad we could get you home safe."
"Are you sure you're all right?" Turbo Cadet asks with concern. "We don't want to leave you alone."
"No, but I'm afraid we can't stay," the Captain says regretfully. "Is there someone you can call? You can call the police, or building security. A neighbor? Someone should be with you."
You assure your heroes that you'll be all right, and tell them you will call your live-in assistant, who should still be at the party. They seem hesitantly satisfied by this, and you thank them again for what they've done for you.
"No problem, sir," Turbo Cadet says happily. "It's just what we do."
"That's right, Cadet," says the Captain. "It's our job. And we'd better get back to it."
As they start for the door, you follow and ask if you'll ever see them again. You don't confess it, but you know you'll feel a great loss if these two amazing men never enter your life again.
"Oh, undoubtedly!" says the Cadet with fervor. "Until next time, Mr. Damsel!"
Turbo Cadet chuckles merrily as he leaves out onto the balcony. Captain Astro lingers behind and turns to you, about to say something, but he can't seem to find his words. A tense silence lapses on as you wait for him.
"Stay safe, Mr. Damsel," he finally says. "You're under our protection. And I'm sure we will meet again. Goodbye, until then."
He smiles, with a twinkle in his eye, and follows after Turbo Cadet. The two strongmen leap from your balcony, and take off into the night sky. You watch in amazement for a long while before closing the door after them. You quietly bid them farewell and the best of luck in their further adventures. You call your assistant, Gogo, but remain vague with the details while asking her to return home. She sounds worried. You'll tell her the truth when she gets here. You're still in disbelief, yourself.
You enter your bedroom and numbly undress and prepare for bed. Your sheets are soft and comforting as you lie down. You leave the light on, your innocent sense of security having been violated by those gangsters. If something else is coming for you, you want to see it when it does. Exhausted, you drift off to sleep.
* * *
"Mr. Damsel," says a low voice, a man's voice. "Please, wake up."
Your shoulder is lightly jostled, and you rouse from your sleep. Through bleary eyes you see Captain Astro leaning over you. You blink and try to focus. His handsome face is full of worry.
"Mr. Damsel," he says again, a bit louder.
Surprised to see him, your eyes search his face and you take his huge forearm in your hand. You struggle to put words together as you ask him what's wrong. He breathes heavily through his nose and rests his large hand on your shoulder.
"I need you," he says longingly, and he quickly moves to kiss you.Dazed, you feel his lips hungrily take yours and kiss you passionately.
You moan, "Oh, Captain!" between his kisses. He breaks away to regard you, his blue eyes filled with earnest desire.
"I can't stop thinking about you," he says. "That kiss you gave me before..."
You nod knowingly and smile with elation. He remains earnest and serious as he touches your face and kisses you again. He takes your sheets and pulls them away from you, revealing your nude body underneath. Then he rises from your bedside and takes you in his arms.
"You're so beautiful, Mr. Damsel," he says, his eyes steady on yours. He gently sets you down in the middle of the bed and holds his powerful body over you. His lips brush over your neck, your cheek, and your lips. He kisses you deeply, lovingly. His warm breath is nice and comforting on your skin. Your tongues dance and explore, and you moan with intense pleasure. Your shy hands rub over his powerful body, running over his silver costume. You want to feel his warm skin, his big muscles underneath. Your cock is throbbing with excitement.
Captain Astro looks at you affectionately and strokes your face with his gloved hand. Then he moves down and kisses your neck and your collar. You hum happily and rub him with your leg. His wonderful lips titillate your skin. He descends to your chest and eventually his mouth finds your sensitive nipple. He suckles you gently and groans with arousal. As he moves to offer treatment to your other breast, your palms affectionately knead his thick neck. You encourage the big man to continue, and you gasp as his tongue swirls pleasantly over your sensitive tip and he sucks harder.
Your eyes flash open, and you hold the Captain's head in your arms desperately. As the room comes back into view, you are startled to find Turbo Cadet standing at the foot of your bed. His visor blinks with lights, hiding his eyes behind. You call his name in surprise. His serious expression worries you. Captain Astro looks up at the Cadet, and he rolls over to your side.
"Cadet," Captain Astro greets him.
You are fully exposed before Turbo Cadet, breathing heavily from excitement and pleasure. Your anxious eyes glance between the two men, and you move a hand to modestly cover your groin, though it's no real use with your huge erection. Turbo Cadet sets his knee on the bed and lowers himself down onto his hands. He smiles warmly, and the brawny young man slowly crawls toward you.
"It's okay, Mr. Damsel," he says.
"We want you to feel safe," Captain Astro reassures you. "We're here for you. We can protect you."
Turbo Cadet crawls up on your other side. The bed is deeply impressed with the weight of these two muscular men. You tilt away from Captain Astro and stroke the Cadet's tan cheek with the backs of your fingers. He leans over you, tilts your face with his hand, and kisses you. His tender lips move slowly at first, savoring your taste. You both smile and chuckle happily as you become acquainted. Captain Astro gives attention to your body again, licking and suckling your chest while you kiss the Cadet. You wrap your arm over the Captain's huge, bulging trapezius muscles, and grip his cape in your hand when he tongues your nipple again. Your other hand embraces the Cadet's face as you make out. You can't believe what is happening, but you indulge yourself and enjoy these two hunky, heroic men to whom you are eternally grateful.
Your physical excitement builds in intensity as this continues, seemingly for a long time. You break away from Turbo Cadet when you notice the Captain grip his glove with his teeth and pull it off. His large, warm hand slides down your tummy and over your stiff shaft. He rubs his palm over your throbbing organ, making you sigh lustfully and grip his cape tighter. Turbo Cadet lowers his mouth to your chest to kiss your body and suck your tense nipple. You quiver with pleasure as Captain Astro grips your hard cock and slowly jacks you. He massages your bulging head as he passes over the shaft, sending waves of sensations through your body.
"Feel good, Mr. Damsel?" Captain Astro asks, just above a whisper. "We don't want you to feel afraid anymore. Let it all go. You're with us now. You're safe."
You look at him and nod helplessly. He smiles affectionately and thumbs your sensitive glans. Then he slides his hand down over your tightened balls. He massages them in his palm before his fingers slip lower underneath you, nudging between your butt cheeks.
"Oh, I want you," he says in a breath, brushing his lips over your chest. You groan and readjust yourself as his fingertips rub your tight anus. His big, strong fingers press inside the hole to touch the delicate flesh inside. Your body is overwhelmed, your sensitive chest being kissed, suckled and licked and your ass being massaged and penetrated. Captain Astro chuckles and hums deeply as he watches your lustful expressions. His fingers explore and massage, and you moan as he sinks deep inside. Your cock twitches and swells even larger. Captain Astro moves his fingers in and out of your tight anus while you squeeze and thrust, having sex with his big hand. Turbo Cadet has leaned back to watch you, so you roll over to kiss the studly Captain.
Turbo Cadet moves his large body down the bed, and you break away from the Captain to watch him curiously. He smiles playfully at you and nudges the Captain's arm. Captain Astro slides his big fingers out of you and moves his hand up to rub your chest. You grab for the loose sheet where the Cadet was once laying and grip it tightly. Turbo Cadet slides his tongue over your throbbing shaft and slips you into his warm mouth. You sigh happily, feeling his tongue caress your manhood. He sucks your ballooning head and then takes you in deep.
"You're so beautiful," Captain Astro tells you again, and he eagerly kisses you while squeezing your teat. His tongue slides into your mouth while the Cadet's tongue swirls around your cock. Turbo Cadet sucks you harder, and you squirm and squeeze the sheet when he repeatedly licks your sensitive glans. Your body is on the cusp of an amazing orgasm.
"Oh, Mr. Damsel," Captain Astro groans while kissing you. He slowly pulls away to look into your eyes and enjoy your lustful expressions. You look up at him in a daze while the Cadet brings you closer and closer to the edge.
"Mr. Damsel," Captain Astro says again, this time as if trying to call your attention. You breathlessly try to answer, but words come out half-formed. Turbo Cadet slides his wet tongue around your swollen head, and then sucks hungrily with his lips.
"Mr. Damsel!" Captain Astro says louder. Your vision blurs and you feel a hand jostle your shoulder.
"Mr. Damsel!" calls a woman's voice.
Your eyes open wide, and a dark-skinned woman's face slowly comes into focus. You recognize your friend Gogo. Groggily, you look around your bedroom. Captain Astro and Turbo Cadet aren't there. Gogo is leaning over you from the bedside, and squeezes your shoulder reassuringly.
"I have come home, Mr. Damsel," she says softly. "I am sorry to wake you, but you had me so worried."
You blink and lightly rub your face, while your befuddled mind slowly makes sense of things. You are comfortably under your sheets, alone in your bed. It wasn't real. You were only dreaming that the heroes returned. It was all just a wonderful fantasy, though it did tangibly excite you. Your erect cock pushes strongly against the sheets.
Adjusting yourself for some decency, you sit up and welcome Gogo. She slowly sits down next to you, looking very concerned. She's still wearing her gown from the party at the Grand Hotel.
"Is everything all right?" she asks.
You nod, and smile bashfully as your dream lingers in your mind. You begin to tell Gogo the story of how you met two amazing superheroes. It was a night unlike any other in your life. | null | Episode 1: Kidnapped for Ransom | Authors/Damsel/MrDiD_E01.txt |
118,746 | null | Damsel in Distress | You slowly awaken. You're sitting in a slightly twisted position, leaning back with your head tilted. The world is blurry as you open your eyes. You feel cloth in your mouth, and your arms are restrained. Your mind is in a fog, too confused to understand what's happened to you. The air is cool and still. You realize you're sitting in a chair. As your vision comes into focus, you see you're in a very open, empty building, dimly lit from lighting somewhere above. Some other people are standing around. A man close to you notices your movement.
"Coo yah, this woman is coming around," he announces with a Jamaican accent. He's a black man with long dreadlocks tied back, and a submachine gun in his hands. He steps back and turns to another man wearing a suit and a fedora hat. Memories start to flood your mind. It's the night of the fundraiser at the Grand Hotel. You remember being taken from a hotel room. You look down to see rope tied around your midriff, restraining your arms. The cloth in your mouth is tied around your head. You've been bound and gagged. You try to move your feet and feel that your ankles are tied together as well. The men from the hotel—posing as room service—kidnapped you, injected you with something, and brought you to what looks like an old, empty warehouse. The man in the fedora approaches you. He's casually flipping a large gold coin up in the air and catching it.
"Hey hey, pussycat," he says. "So you're awake already? Welcome to the party. We aren't quite ready to get things started, but real soon we'll be getting down to business."
He speaks in a disarmingly friendly tone, but it does little to dispel your fear. He turns to look at a man and woman standing by stacks of large wooden crates. A laptop computer sits on one of the crates, and the two are studying the screen.
"Ain't that right?" the man confidently calls to them. "How's it looking?"
"I'm still monitoring activity," the woman says scornfully. "With the intel from inside, I anticipate the last of the funds will be secured within the hour. I'll inform you when that happens."
"See, here's the situation, pussycat," says the man in the fedora, catching his coin one last time before stooping down to your eye level. "This is your first time, so I'll clue you. We're going to be setting up a smooth transaction here, and you're our hot commodity. Leading lady of Metro City's jet-set, heiress to the great House Damsel—and a princess, too! You're worth top dollar to a whole lot of fat cats. Even to some you don't even know—or even wanna know. So it's business, you dig?"
He exhales and inches closer to your face, putting his hand on the back of your chair. You can smell his cologne. His pretty eyes stare deep into yours, feigning warmth and sympathy.
"But the thing is, your Utopia Foundation has incurred some cost to our organization, and it's time to settle the debt. With significant interest. The bosses don't like it when do-gooders rock the boat. I mean the free clinics, aid programs, working with the coppers, yada yada yada. It's all been a real drag on our operations."
He smiles handsomely, stands up straight, and gestures to the two people by the computer.
"Your latest little 'Save the World' project has taken in quite a tidy sum. Just sitting in that account, all wrapped up with a ribbon on top. It'll keep things simple. We make the demand, and they'll happily cash it out to us. Then they get you back, safe as kittens, and you go home with a greater understanding of things. Maybe make some changes in your company. Get some new management with different ideas."
He flips his coin again. Your heart breaks as it all sinks in. You were aware your status made you a target for ransom, theoretically. But did you imagine it would ever happen? It pains and angers you that they would extort the Foundation. They shouldn't give up the capital they've raised. The aid project is too important.
You try to talk, try to start a negotiation, but you can't speak through the gag. He just smiles at you and shakes his head disapprovingly. You test your restraints in frustration and anguish.
"Now, cool it, honey baby," he says. "We'll handle everything. You just chill and think about how nice it'll be to go home."
"Sir," the woman calls, quickly turning from the computer. "It's time."
"Here we go," the man in the fedora says.
A thunderous voice booms from above: "Hold it right there, villains!"
You're all startled and look around in confusion. A large man plummets from above and ably lands in the center of everyone with a deep thud, his black cape swirling around him. The muscle-bound, dark-haired man stands up tall and imposing, and sets his fists on his hips. He's clad in a tight, silvery costume with dark gloves and boots that match his cape. Over his massive chest is emblazoned a black, ringed planet that resembles Saturn. His handsome face looks stern under a furrowed brow.
"Allow me to introduce myself," he says loudly. "I am Captain Astro, Defender of Earth! Drop your weapons and step away from Miss Damsel at once, or face my might!"
His powerful voice resounds through the warehouse like a god's. You are struck with awe in his presence, for a moment forgetting your predicament. You've heard of this man, this hero, but have never seen him in person. The men around you are similarly dumbfounded.
"Light him up!" the man in the fedora shouts to his group. They move forward, swing their guns and open fire on Captain Astro. You cringe at the loud, blasting gunfire. To your great relief, Captain Astro is unfazed by the hail of bullets. He's completely unharmed. As per his reputation, he seems to be impervious!
"Rhaatid!" the Jamaican yells over the gunfire. "He's bulletproof, bredda!"
"Enough!" says Captain Astro. "You can't hope to beat me. Surrender!"
"Kill him, damn it!" the man in the fedora hollers, sounding more desperate. He grabs you from the chair and throws you over his shoulder. You squirm and try to get off of him, but the ropes make you helpless. When you raise your head, you see Captain Astro rush the Jamaican and disarm him. After taking the submachine gun away, he swings and knocks the Jamaican to the ground with the end of it. As the other men continue firing at him, Captain Astro bends the gun to render it useless and throws it to the ground. Then he turns and flies at another gunman—actually flying, after pushing strongly off the ground—and he knocks the man off his feet with tremendous force. A bigger thug drops the rifle in frustration and swings a fierce punch. Captain Astro blocks and catches his arm with a skilled martial arts form. The thug tries to wrestle free, but Captain Astro strikes him powerfully and he goes down.
The man in the fedora yells in frustration and swiftly starts to carry you away. When Captain Astro notices, he turns and angrily shouts, "Stop!" More of the gunmen yell in rage and continue shooting at him. The Captain swiftly retaliates. With amazing athleticism, he confronts and disarms the men before taking them down. You're astonished as he grabs one in each hand and effortlessly throws them across the room. His strength is incredible! They fly back and smash into some crates, splintering the wood and toppling the stack.
While you're watching Captain Astro, you feel an impact and suddenly you are falling. The man who was carrying you yells out, and you shut your eyes, expecting to hit the floor. Strong arms catch you, and hold you steady. You slowly open your eyes to see that you're in the arms of another brawny man in a silver costume. He has caramel-colored skin, and is wearing a high-tech visor that obscures his eyes. His shiny black hair is tousled and spiky.
"Hey," he greets you, wearing a friendly grin. "It's okay. I've got you."
His voice is youthful and good-humored. In a daze, you look for the man in the fedora. He's down on the ground, not moving. His hat is lying next to him. Then you notice Captain Astro striding toward you.
"Sorry I'm late, Cap," says the hero holding you. "Caught a few more out there."
"Nice work, Cadet," Captain Astro responds. "Is she all right, Turbo?"
Captain Astro looks down at you worriedly and unties your gag.
"Are you all right, Miss Damsel?" he repeats with concern. "Did they hurt you?"
You still feel the grip of shock, and find yourself breathing heavily. Falteringly, you tell him you're okay.
His eyes full of concern, and his large jaw set stonily, Captain Astro quickly undoes the rope around your ankles and pulls it away. His partner gently lets you down, and soon they have you free of your bondage. You try to calm your nerves and your breathing, and you rest your hand on the Cadet's big shoulder for support. He comfortingly puts his arm around you.
"It's over now, Miss Damsel," Captain Astro assures you. "I'm sorry this happened. We'll get you to safety."
You hear screeching tires and the whine of an engine. Through the open warehouse door, you can see a black sport utility vehicle rapidly approach and skid to a halt outside.
"Uh-oh, I think I missed one," the Cadet says with embarrassment.
"Did you check the vehicles?" Captain Astro asks. "You didn't, did you?""I'll take care of it, sir," says the Cadet. "You take her out of here. I'll catch up."
He nods to you, and you step back to let him go.
"Keep your focus, Cadet," Captain Astro tells him.
"Yes, sir!"
The Cadet turns and runs toward the door. His silver costume is different from the Captain's: it's less fantastic, and in more of a recognizable military style. It's like a sleek astronaut's jumpsuit with some functional accessories. Like Captain Astro, he has an icon on his chest. It kind of looks like a vortex, with a whirling star shape.
Captain Astro takes you in his big arms and follows after his friend while carrying you. As you emerge out of the warehouse into the lot, three men jump out of the SUV and raise their guns. The Cadet suddenly zooms forward at incredible speed. He becomes a silver blur, zipping by two of the men and knocking them away, disarming them in the process. They yell in pain and surprise as they hit the pavement. You watch in awe, before Captain Astro holds you close and launches himself into the air.
Cool air strongly blows past, and you cling to Captain Astro as he takes you high above the buildings. Rushing wind fills your ears, and the city falls away below. The Captain slows his ascent after reaching a great height. The wind calms, and the Captain floats easily in the air.
You look about in wonder. The vibrant lights of Metro City gleam far below you. You can see for miles and miles until the horizon. Puffy clouds drift above, illuminated by the pale moonlight. Captain Astro's bulky, muscular body warms you from the chilly air. There is safety and security in his arms.
Your eyes meet with an intense emotional spark. His expression softens a great deal and he smiles down at you. The moonlight shines on his face so you are able see him better than you have before. He's very handsome, with attractive masculine features, a robust jawline, and a cleft chin. His short black hair is slicked back neatly. In accordance with his moniker of "Captain", he appears very much like a tough military man.
"It's all right now," he assures you again, smiling warmly.
You finally find your voice and thank him. In a dazed ramble you ask him about the Cadet, wondering if he'll be all right.
"Don't worry, miss," he says. "I promise he can handle them easily. Our priority is your rescue. I'll take you home, all right?"
You nod, and breathe deeply in relief. You inform him where you live: a penthouse in one of the tallest buildings in Uptown. After listening to the details, Captain Astro holds you close and flies off toward your building.
The city moves by below you, still so active and busy in the late night hour. You look up at Captain Astro as he determinedly flies you home. He's amazing. You were fascinated by the news of Metro City's super-powered hero, but stories are so removed and uncertain. Tonight, with your own eyes, you have witnessed incredible feats by two extraordinary men. In a dark hour, they appeared out of nowhere to save you from those dangerous criminals. You have been blessed by fortune, and humbled by the good will of strangers.
You reach Uptown, and Captain Astro glides toward your building. The sight of home is greatly comforting. You point out the spacious balcony of your condominium, realizing it is a convenient place for him to land. The Captain nods in agreement. He lightly touches down, and searches for any sign of trouble inside your home. Seeing that it's safe, he gently lets you down on your feet. You cling to his powerful body as you find your footing, and then your eyes meet again, with his face very close to yours. Your heart thumps as tense moments pass, and you both linger in the intimacy. With one arm still around you, Captain Astro rubs his gloved hand down the side of your body and keeps you close. He looks serious, and somewhat puzzled as he stares fixedly into your eyes. You precipitously lean in and kiss his lips.
Captain Astro immediately kisses you back, as if unleashing some restrained vigor. His spark of enthusiasm takes your breath away, and you let him have his way with you. Your eyes flutter closed as you enjoy feeling his firm lips move over yours. He exhales powerfully through his nose as he slides his tongue into your mouth. He tentatively explores you, and you slow down into a nice movement. After the long kiss his mouth leaves yours and, smiling, you quietly take in a deep breath. With his eyes closed, Captain Astro rests his forehead against yours and lightly clears his throat. The wind picks up around the balcony, and the Captain holds you closer as it blows by and ruffles his cape.
"Here I am!" calls a familiar friendly voice. You and Captain Astro look up to see the Cadet slowly descending from the air, surrounded by a strong current of wind. It blows powerfully as he lands with grace on the wide balcony, and then the air disperses and quickly settles down. He grins with shiny white teeth and stands up tall. Smiling happily, you rush to meet the Cadet. He's taken by surprise as you throw your arms around his thick neck and give him a loving hug. You thank him for helping rescue you and inquire about who he is, since you are unable to recall any mention of Captain Astro working with another hero.
"You can call me Turbo Cadet, Miss Damsel," he says, giving you a small salute. "As you just saw, I can control the wind. And I can move extremely fast. I picked up the name 'The Silver Speedster', too—you know, because of the uniform."
"He's my subordinate, and a trusted friend," says the Captain. "He's still in training. Report, Cadet?"
"Sir, I neutralized the rest of the men. Made a final sweep. The police would arrive soon, so I followed after you."
"All right, Cadet. Well done."
Turbo Cadet turns to you and says, "This was my fourth time out in the field. I'm almost as strong as Cap—I mean physically—but he still isn't too eager to let me come along."
"All right, Cadet," says the Captain reprovingly. "Miss Damsel's still shaken. Let's get her inside and safe."
Captain Astro opens your door and lets you into the apartment. You exchange a knowing glance as you move by him, but then you shyly look away. The impulsive, passionate moment you shared has now built an awkward tension, especially after being interrupted by the Cadet. You don't know if the Cadet saw at all, since he didn't make a comment or act any differently. Confused by your actions and feeling embarrassed, you decide to let it go. The three of you walk into your apartment and have a look around to make sure the criminal gang didn't break in. You slowly wander from room to room, turning on lights and casting your eyes about. After what happened to you, you somehow feel like a stranger in your own home. It's as if you've returned after spending years and years away. Notwithstanding that vague, strange feeling, you don't get the sense that anyone has broken into your home. You tell Captain Astro that nothing seems out of place. Turbo Cadet also reports that everything seems secure.
"Okay," Captain Astro says with a quick nod. "That's good. I'm very glad we could get you home safe."
"Are you sure you're all right?" Turbo Cadet asks with concern. "We don't want to leave you alone."
"No, but I'm afraid we can't stay," the Captain says regretfully. "Is there someone you can call? You can call the police, or building security. A neighbor? Someone should be with you."
You assure your heroes that you'll be all right, and tell them you will call your live-in assistant, who should still be at the party. They seem hesitantly satisfied by this, and you thank them again for what they've done for you.
"No problem, miss," Turbo Cadet says happily. "It's just what we do."
"That's right, Cadet," says the Captain. "It's our job. And we'd better get back to it."
As they start for the door, you follow and ask if you'll ever see them again. You don't confess it, but you know you'll feel a great loss if these two amazing men never enter your life again.
"Oh, undoubtedly!" says the Cadet with fervor. "Until next time, Miss Damsel!"
Turbo Cadet chuckles merrily as he leaves out onto the balcony. Captain Astro lingers behind and turns to you, about to say something, but he can't seem to find his words. A tense silence lapses on as you wait for him.
"Stay safe, Miss Damsel," he finally says. "You're under our protection. And I'm sure we will meet again. Goodbye, until then."
He smiles, with a twinkle in his eye, and follows after Turbo Cadet. The two strongmen leap from your balcony, and take off into the night sky. You watch in amazement for a long while before closing the door after them. You quietly bid them farewell and the best of luck in their further adventures. You call your assistant, Gogo, but remain vague with the details while asking her to return home. She sounds worried. You'll tell her the truth when she gets here. You're still in disbelief, yourself.
You enter your bedroom and numbly undress and prepare for bed. Your sheets are soft and comforting as you lie down. You leave the light on, your innocent sense of security having been violated by those gangsters. If something else is coming for you, you want to see it when it does. Exhausted, you drift off to sleep.
* * *
"Miss Damsel," says a low voice, a man's voice. "Please, wake up."
Your shoulder is lightly jostled, and you rouse from your sleep. Through bleary eyes you see Captain Astro leaning over you. You blink and try to focus. His handsome face is full of worry.
"Miss Damsel," he says again, a bit louder.
Surprised to see him, your eyes search his face and you lift your hand to caress his cheek. You struggle to put words together as you ask him what's wrong. He breathes heavily through his nose and puts his large hand over yours."I need you," he says longingly, and he quickly moves to kiss you. Dazed, you feel his lips hungrily take yours and kiss you passionately.
You moan "Oh, Captain!" between his kisses. He breaks away to regard you, his blue eyes filled with earnest desire.
"I can't stop thinking about you," he says. "That kiss you gave me before..."
You nod knowingly and smile with elation. He remains earnest and serious as he touches your face and kisses you again. He takes your sheets and pulls them away from you, revealing your nude body underneath. Then he rises from your bedside and takes you in his arms.
"You're so beautiful," he says, his eyes steady on yours. He gently sets you down in the middle of the bed and holds his powerful body over you. His lips brush over your neck, your cheek, and your lips. He kisses you deeply, lovingly. His warm breath is nice and comforting on your skin. Your tongues dance and explore, and you moan with intense pleasure. Your shy hands rub over his powerful body, running over his silver costume. You want to feel his warm skin, his big muscles underneath. Your pussy is tingling and hot with excitement.
Captain Astro looks at you affectionately and strokes your face with his gloved hand. Then he moves down and kisses your collar, and moves lower, kissing the tops of your breasts. You hum happily and rub him with your leg. Encouraged, he licks your breast with his big tongue and kisses with a hard suck. As his mouth finds your sensitive nipple, you tremble and coo with delight, and your eyelids flutter closed. He suckles you gently and groans with arousal. As he moves to offer treatment to your other breast, you reach down and feel your throbbing pussy, finding it moistened with your oily secretions. You encourage the big man to continue, and you gasp as his tongue swirls pleasantly over your sensitive tip and he sucks harder.
Your eyes flash open and you hold the Captain's head in your arms desperately. As the room comes back into view, you are startled to find Turbo Cadet standing at the foot of your bed. His visor blinks with lights, hiding his eyes behind. You call his name in surprise. His serious expression worries you. Captain Astro looks up at the Cadet, and he rolls over to your side.
"Cadet," Captain Astro greets him.
You are fully exposed before Turbo Cadet, breathing heavily from excitement and pleasure. You press your legs together and cling to Captain Astro. Turbo Cadet sets his knee on the bed and lowers himself down onto his hands. He smiles warmly, and the brawny young man slowly crawls toward you.
"It's okay, Miss Damsel," he says.
"We want you to feel safe," Captain Astro reassures you. "We're here for you. We can protect you."
Turbo Cadet crawls up on your other side. The bed is deeply impressed with the weight of these two muscular men. You tilt away from Captain Astro and stroke the Cadet's tan cheek with the backs of your fingers. He leans over you, tilts your face with his hand, and kisses you. His tender lips move slowly at first, savoring your taste. You both smile and chuckle happily as you become acquainted. Captain Astro gives attention to your body again, licking and suckling your breast while you kiss the Cadet. You wrap your arm over the Captain's huge, bulging trapezius muscles, and grip his cape in your hand when he tongues your nipple again. Your other hand embraces the Cadet's face as you make out. You can't believe what is happening, but you indulge yourself and enjoy these two hunky, heroic men to whom you are eternally grateful.
Your physical excitement builds in intensity as this continues, seemingly for a long time. You break away from Turbo Cadet when you notice the Captain grip his glove with his teeth and pull it off. His large, warm hand finds your far breast and he squeezes lightly, making your hard nipple tense with pressure. You sigh lustfully and grip his cape tightly. Turbo Cadet lowers his mouth to your breast and sucks the tense, extremely sensitive nipple. Captain Astro massages your other breast while the Cadet moans happily and kisses your body.
"Feel good, Miss Damsel?" Captain Astro asks, just above a whisper. "We don't want you to feel afraid anymore. Let it all go. You're with us now. You're safe."
You look at him and nod helplessly. He smiles affectionately and thumbs your firm nipple. Then he slides his hand down over your body. You spread your legs and bite your lip in anticipation as his big palm cups your swollen pussy.
"Oh, I want you," he says in a breath, brushing his lips over the side of your tit. He rubs his hand over your hot vulva, massaging your most intimate area. His big, strong fingers spread your tingling lips and rub gently. You whimper desperately as two thick fingers press inside your juicy slit. Your body is overwhelmed, your sensitive breasts being kissed, suckled and licked and your pussy being massaged and penetrated. Captain Astro chuckles and hums deeply as he watches your lustful expressions. His fingers explore and massage, and you gasp as he finds your swollen clit. Suddenly your body is gripped by thousands of tiny tremors and pulses of intense pleasure. Captain Astro sees you're climaxing and shoves his fingers in and out of your tight pussy. It's exactly what you want. You squeeze and thrust, having sex with his big hand, spilling your juices over him as your orgasm racks your body. Finally it's over and you relax, breathing rapidly. Turbo Cadet has leaned back to watch you, so you roll over to kiss the studly Captain, who continues fondling your wet pussy.
Turbo Cadet moves his large body down the bed, and you break away from the Captain to watch him curiously. He smiles playfully at you and moves your legs apart, positioning himself between them. You giggle and lie flat beneath him, and the Cadet moves down to kiss your belly. Captain Astro moves his hand up to fondle your breasts while the Cadet kisses lower and lower. You grab for the loose sheet where he was once laying and grip it tightly. His mouth reaches your pussy and he kisses your slick, tingling lips. You sigh happily, feeling his lips and tongue caress your womanhood, exploring you and savoring your taste.
"You're so beautiful," Captain Astro tells you again, and he eagerly kisses you while squeezing your tit. His tongue slides into your mouth while the Cadet's tongue pushes shallowly inside your pussy. Turbo Cadet laps in and out, and you squirm and squeeze the sheet when he licks your sensitive clitoris. Easily finding it, he gently prods it with a thick tongue tip, before kissing your pussy and rubbing his whole tongue over it. Already your body is on the cusp of another amazing orgasm.
"Oh, Miss Damsel," Captain Astro groans while kissing you. He slowly pulls away to look into your eyes and enjoy your lustful expressions. You look up at him in a daze while the Cadet brings you closer and closer to the edge.
"Miss Damsel," Captain Astro says again, this time as if trying to call your attention. You breathlessly try to answer, but words come out half-formed. Turbo Cadet slides his wet tongue over your swollen clit, and then sucks hungrily with his lips.
"Miss Damsel!" Captain Astro says louder. Your vision blurs and you feel a hand jostle your shoulder.
"Miss Damsel!" calls a woman's voice.
Your eyes open wide, and a dark-skinned woman's face slowly comes into focus. You recognize your friend Gogo. Groggily, you look around your bedroom. Captain Astro and Turbo Cadet aren't there. Gogo is leaning over you from the bedside, and squeezes your shoulder reassuringly.
"I have come home, Miss Damsel," she says softly. "I am sorry to wake you, but you had me so worried."
You blink and lightly rub your face, while your befuddled mind slowly makes sense of things. You are comfortably under your sheets, alone in your bed. It wasn't real. You were only dreaming that the heroes returned. It was all just a wonderful fantasy, though it did tangibly excite you. Your pussy feels wet and tingly.
Hugging your sheets, you sit up and welcome Gogo. She slowly sits down next to you, looking very concerned. She's still wearing her gown from the party at the Grand Hotel.
"Is everything all right?" she asks.
You nod, and smile bashfully as your dream lingers in your mind. You begin to tell Gogo the story of how you met two amazing superheroes. It was a night unlike any other in your life. | null | Episode 1: Kidnapped for Ransom | Authors/Damsel/DiD_E01.txt |
118,769 | H. Jekyll | Control | You can't know what nothingness is. You can't comprehend it because your world is thick with sensation. But Anne can understand it. Anne doesn't know where she is. She doesn't know how she came here. She doesn't know what "here" is. There's no texture, no figure, no light, no sound, nothing to break the nothingness. Black. Silent. She was somewhere and now she's not anywhere at all. She's twisted like a pretzel. She can't understand. She's trying to think but there's no sensation to wrap a thought around. Yes, now there's something. There's an ache in her shoulders, a dull little thing that soon blossoms to fill the void. Nature abhors a vacuum, don't you know, so the ache throbs throughout hers, expanding, filling, taking over all the space in her universe. Finally the pain gives her an anchor and she knows. Somehow she's at the bottom of a coal mine, trapped under a mile of rubble. How did it happen? She can't remember. She's dying alone. She tries to call for help but there's no air.
Wake up, Geoff!
If you sleep you'll crash, and who will rescue Anne? Stay awake. Find some radio station. Watch the half-moon skimming along the horizon, the same moon you saw last night. It's still there. It'll keep you going. It's your destination anyway. The silver apples of the moon. Follow them to your glimmering girl, with apple blossom in her hair.
Why that poem? You don't even like Yeats. Yeah, but it's how she got me. She came up to me at a party at the Dean's house where I was being shy, and she asked me right out what I taught and I said poetry. Then she recited the whole thing and I was hooked.
Hooked like a little silver trout? Yes, caught with a berry and a thread. Just like that. But I don't want to think of that poem, especially not that poem, not tonight. You know how it goes, don't you? She called me by my name and ran, and faded through the brightening air. Don't fade away, Anne. I'm coming tonight, before the air brightens.
The lights of Roanoke pass on the right, leading down toward the Shenandoah Valley. For a short way there are street lights along the interstate, but then Geoffrey leaves them behind and the road gets dark again. Not as dark as for Anne. No, Geoffrey sees light everywhere. Under the moon the countryside is luscious, almost as beautiful as during the day, dotted with little lit-up homes that probably have people who are watching TV, secure and happy, maybe grumpy, maybe teasing each other, maybe running fingers around penis and vulva and embarrassed to be doing it with all the lights on. Anne would be amazed at so much light. It would blind her.
Wake up, Geoff!
What's Satan doing to her? Is he hurting her again, and taping it for his audience? Or is he forcing pleasure on her, standing there feeling his power, knowing however much he punishes her she can't resist him? He'll be taping that too, of course.
Or maybe she's dead. No. Maybe she died. Stop it! Maybe he's skinned her and has hung her carcass like a side of beef and is letting her age, so she'll be more tender when he eats her. No! But once the idea creeps in it doesn't want to leave.
Think! She was alive last night. I saw her! But maybe she died. No! It wasn't even a full day ago. You can die in an instant. He could kill her without even trying. Do you see her body? Do you see it hanging by the ankles, meat hooks through the ankles? She's alive! Really? Then maybe he's killing her right now.
Make the image go away. Try a poem again, a different poem. How's this one? Tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow, creeps in this petty pace... Stop it! Wake up! I have to keep awake! Then what about this? I have known the inexorable sadness of pencils, neat in their boxes, dolor of pad and paperweight. Shit, oh shit. May as well go back to Yeats. Can't I remember any poems that end well? Maybe Dr. Seuss. Did I ever tell you how lucky you are? Oh fuck off!
Now other things push out the death thoughts, mainly sights from Satan's Web site, visuals of Anne being broken and feeling more ecstasy than Geoff could ever hope to give her.
There's one video in particular. Oh they all share the essentials, but this one.... Geoff forgets the moon and forgets the road. He almost forgets what he's doing because of what's in his mind. Anne coming and coming, Satan having worked her well with sorcery. She's coming, and while she does Satan opens her labia to show off her inner lips and mouth to the camera. The mouth is opening and closing, like that of a fish, or a monster, something alien. It's a flower, pink and muscular like a closed-up rose or tulip, but it's trying to find a penis to feed on. The petals open and close. Geoff has never seen anything like it. He can't get it out of his mind.
He also can't forget the aftermath. Breathless words. "Thank you, Victor. Thank you. Thank you. Oh God."
Anne floats at the bottom of the world, packed neatly in her pencil box. She can hear her breathing, and her moaning when she has air for moaning, if she is conscious enough to pay attention, but even then she doesn't always know she's the source. What can she feel? She can feel her shoulders ease from their sockets. She has nothing else, no sound, no sight, no smell, no movement, no sense of anything outside her skin. She is as alone as anyone has ever been, given forever to contemplate her insignificance.
When she's less conscious she sometimes has brilliant visions and she takes deep breaths and smells the world and runs and flails her arms. When she's more conscious she struggles to breathe and remembers she has orders to think of her husband, though it makes her tremble to do it. What is she to think about? About discipline. When he put her in here he told her to think of a punishment severe enough to atone for disobedience. What did she do? She said something bad. Now she has to think of something harsh, and maybe when she does he'll come back.
She has to think of her husband because He's her world, her Lord. He rules the garden of earthly delights. So she trembles. Fear of her Lord is the beginning of wisdom. There used to be another world-wasn't there?-but that passed away. There was another man, but don't think of him. No. She was bad. He hated her. There's only Victor. How many eons has she been in this place? Someday He will return to let her see again and hear again and feel more pleasure and pain than she can endure. For now, though, there's only ache.
Please come, my darling. Please. My shoulders. They hurt so. I can't stand it anymore. Please hurry. I'll be so good. I'll do everything you want, only please, my shoulders. I'll be perfect. Oh God, they hurt. I can't, I just can't stand it anymore. Loosen me just for a minute, just for a second. Please, my darling. Please. Oh please.
If Victor were here he'd be intimate. He'd brush his whiskered cheeks across my neck, breathe into my ear. He'd make me kiss him. Kiss me. Be loving about it. Yes, darling. I will. Kiss you lovingly, your wonderful mouth. Oh please! My shoulders.
It wouldn't always have been that way. It hasn't been long since she could resist, struggle, withdraw, feign, make an impression of full submission and love without being whole-hearted. Was it so recently? She can't remember very well. She knows he hurt her relentlessly and kept her bound. He made her suffer until she faded out, and he began again when she came around, doing it forever, until she became obedient. Love me. Yes my love. Want me. Please, I want you. But she still keeps losing her way and doing something bad. If he were here he'd tell her, when you are really a very good girl I'll give you a little present, but not until then. Now let's continue your training, to help you overcome your will.
His voice is rich and breathy in her ear while he pulls back on her arms to make them hurt even more. You're forgetting. You're forgetting to submit. You want to assert yourself. You want me to undo what I want.
I'm sorry, darling. I try and I try, but I'm so weak.Oh, my shoulders! Please, loosen them just a little? Please?
When was it that she became too weary to resist any further? She grew so tired. She was empty, and it went on without end. He was never impatient about it. He didn't let her sleep, or rest, or move. All she could do was hurt and try to be loving for him. It was then it first came over her in a blaze of clarity, the certainty that his will was right and true, and he was worthy of her absolute devotion. But she keeps forgetting - she's so stupid, such a useless bitch - and he has to begin all over, until she remembers again. If only she can make herself be good enough for him.
He's still speaking. "Submit. Remember the pleasure I get from this. Think of my desire."
"I am, darling, but I just can't stand it. I need your help. Please help me."
* * * * *
"Wake up, Geoff, you asshole!"
Remember what you have to do. You have to kill that son of a bitch and take her away. How should I do it? Just kill him. Shoot the bastard and take her from him. Carry Anne away with you. Take her home with you, your love forever. Make her safe. Hold her. Care for her and bring her back to the world of light and love, sweet soft fucking in the afternoon, her body warm against your back at night, her breath on your neck. Run your lips down the side of her neck. Remember how she smelled? Caress her as she sleeps. Gently. That's right. Like that. Move your hands over all her hills and hollows. Drive down into the valley where she's waiting. The valley is hills and hollows. The moon lights it like candles light Anne, coolly and evenly, leaving a half shadow between her labia, like the headlights along the highway with a half shadow between them, moving into the night, into her mystery. My Anne. My darling. She wakes already inflamed, already with a catch in her breathing, already wanting, and it's exactly here that Geoffrey runs off the road.
The car veers to the right, onto the shoulder where it hits gravel and sounds like a bag of marbles emptied onto the floor, so when Geoffrey wakes, he is disorganized, thinking about marbles. He jerks the wheel back, and the car fishtails. A car shooting past him honks a long warning. The right rear fender bangs against the railing, then he has control again, and he brings the car over to a stop.
He starts crying. In a second, he's bawling like a baby. "I'm sorry, Anne! I'm sorry! I can't do it. I don't know. I'm afraid I can't. I can't stay awake to get to you."
"Stop it, damn it! Make yourself stop! If you break down, she dies. You have to do it. No one else can. Well, why didn't you call the police? They might have gone to her. I don't know. They wouldn't have. Maybe they would have. It's too late, now. I have to keep going. You thought she'd come back to you if you were the big hero who rescued her. Well, she won't. She won't come back to you at all. Dreaming about being with her isn't going to help anything. She's not yours anymore. I know. I know. It's true. I'm sorry, Anne. I'll concentrate more. I have to save you. Then I have to let you go."
Geoffrey cries a minute or two longer, before he can make himself stop, then he shakes himself and reaches to the back seat for a soft drink from the cooler. He opens it and drinks. He grabs a flashlight and gets out to check the damage to the car. There's a fender crease, maybe a yard long. He shines the light all over the right rear tire, feels it. "Shit!" Finally, he gets back in, starts the engine, and takes off again. The moon lights the valley below while he works to keep himself awake.
* * * * *
Anne has been struggling with herself, but she can't stop whimpering or trying to move. She's forgotten how to submit properly. He'll have to help her some more. If he would put his erection to her face, she would show how good she can be. She would suck him sweetly while he hurt her so he could be pleasured by having her moan around his glans. She would treat his penis so lovingly, so softly, to make him happy. She might make him happy enough.
"Where am I? How did I come here?"
Anne is on her knees, open to him as always. While he pulls on her arms, he pushes a thumb all the way into her rectum, plumbing the depth. Two other fingers plow her vagina. Maybe she's been good enough. Maybe he's going to give her a present, a respite. "Please, love." Then he's caught her womb and her ass tightly, but his fingers come out and tickle her labia, all the way up to the end, then down, then again, then again, jacking up her desire, until there's nothing in her world but his face at hers, the smell of his breath, and the whispered words of what he'll make her do to show her devotion. While he hurts her shoulders, his thumb fucks her, and his fingers touch and withdraw, over and over, barely touching her, just enough to keep her high. He tells her what she has to do. "What is it?"
"Please no, darling. Oh! Oh! Please no. I can't do that. Please, I couldn't. Please, no. Oh! Please don't make me. Please no." She says that even though he's telling her he'll loosen her shoulders and flood her with pleasure once she says "yes." It must be a long time before she is aware once again that she can't move, can't speak, can't see, can't hear, can't do anything at all, and that she is completely alone. The throbbing in her shoulders overwhelms the throbbing in her sex.
* * * * *
It's not like last night, not in any way at all. Even the moon is different. Geoffrey is out in the country, but it's different. Gravel rattles under the car, and the moon lights a cloud of dust behind him. This country is different. It's close to Satan. Geoffrey can feel him. He just can't feel Anne.
There is a house far back from the road, up a dirt driveway, surrounded by fields of grass that have begun to release mist into the night. There are no near neighbors. As Geoffrey drives over the gravel, he thinks of marbles and of almost crashing. He also thinks this is no site for a video studio. There's a mercury vapor light on a pole between the house and a shed, so bright the siding seems to gleam, both floors glowing in the night, but there are no other lights. It's only a few minutes after eleven. There should be lights. Don't dwell on what this could mean.
He drives past the house and around a bend, then turns around. What does the place remind him of? "Sleepy Hollow."
Geoffrey drives back without headlights and stops a few hundred yards from the house. On the back seat are some night vision goggles. Through them, the world stands out as fuzzy green on black. Can this be the place? It can't be. Well, what's here? A liquid propane tank. A car. One car. It's Anne's car! Anne's car. Anne's. Concentrate, dummy! What else is there? There's a large satellite dish. Where's Satan's car?
What if it's not the place? A premonition. Maybe it's just a diversion. What if they're three states away? What if Anne is dying across the continent, in L.A.? Okay, Geoffy, get down to business. If it's not the place, I'll know in a few minutes. There's no sign of electronic devices. Though Satan would certainly be able to hide things. If he has them, I can't sneak up. Where's that flak jacket? Damn it, I paid enough for it. I know I brought it! Load the gun. Stop shaking. Stop shaking. Control. Control. Deep breaths. Now drive right up to the door. Go in with force. Gun stuck in my belt. Safety off. Ready? Go.
The driveway has no gate. No security. That seems to be a thing with Satan. Geoffrey roars up the long road, the car bumping and hitting bottom twice, making dust. Making noise. Close in, he can see window and door bars. Geoffrey gets out of the car with three different size crow bars to attack the security door. It takes less than a minute to spring it.
"Jesus, it's shoddy!"
Then to the wood door. It takes almost no time at all. He crashes through it and falls to the floor with the gun in front of him, scanning the room with the night goggles and listening. There's no sound at all. He goes through the house, turning on lights, first the ground floor, then the second. It's only afterwards that he thinks he should have used the night goggles all along. He was making himself a great target for anyone sitting in a darkened room. But no one was sitting there. No one is here at all.
* * * * *
Every so often, a panic sweeps over Anne, and she tries to scream and move her arms and legs. She can't do it for more than a few seconds before she gets light-headed and can't breathe, after which she shivers some more and makes little squeaks and slips back into a state that is close to, but not quite, unconsciousness.
* * * * *
The house is full of prints and photos of nudes. Some of them are noir, but not all. They aren't even pornographic. Some are reproductions of famous works. Otherwise, the house seems completely domestic, the home of someone educated and refined. It's tasteful, not showy. Mixed furniture. Danish mixed with art deco mixed with old, leather-covered trunks and dark oak armoires. Lawyer's bookshelves hold a mixture of old, leather-bound books and paperbacks. The kitchen is contemporary, open and bright, with a butcher-block in the center. There isn't a smidgen of a mote of a hint that it covers a torture chamber, but it must.
And of course, it does.
Geoffrey finds the basement door just off the kitchen. It's like nothing else in the house, and he knows it must be what he's looking for. No other door would be steel, or fastened with two heavy padlocks. She must be here. Pry on the locks, Geoff. "Shit!" Get the toolbox. There may only be two locks, but it takes twenty minutes with the power saw to get through them. A blade breaks half way through. There aren't any other special problems, though.
There's an ordinary light switch just inside the door. Ordinary wood stairs, smooth, bare, planks lead to a landing.It is bare and smooth, too. A mundane stair. More stairs descend to the cement floor. Satan must have some other security devices, doesn't he? Alarms? Cameras?
By the time Geoff has reached the landing, he can see the whole layout. It's all here, spread out across the basement floor. The stage lights, the cameras, the treadmill. There are contraptions all over for immobilizing and displaying Anne. Geoffrey hasn't even seen them all on the website. He walks down into it. There aren't any sounds but his footsteps. Directly at the foot of the stairs is the device Satan uses to stretch her. It seems out of place, as though Satan has moved things around. Geoff runs a hand over it. It is a beautiful piece of furniture, polished, smooth, and varnished. It reflects the computer's screen saver, showing tiny, reverse images of women being tortured. Anne isn't one of them. She isn't down here. She doesn't seem to be anywhere.
But there are shadowed areas. There are corners and separate rooms, and areas that are hidden behind the furnace, the water heater, pillars, the AC, a deep freeze, and ductwork. The place is a labyrinth. The floor isn't even; at one end it rises toward the ceiling, so that Geoff has to stoop to walk along it. He half-creeps to his left, around a corner, then turns another left and is in a narrow dark place. The floor descends again. After a moment, he can stand erect. A few more feet and he turns left again and is back in the main area of the cellar, at the far end from where he began.
From here, he can see the space under the landing. It seems to have a doorway, though it is small. Fit only for a rabbit. Or Alice. Or Anne. Geoffrey shines the flashlight under the landing, and there it is. He gets a tingling across his back and up his arms. "I'm here, Anne. Please be alive." One more steel door, though not as small as he'd thought. How had it seemed so tiny? This one only has a deadbolt, so once Geoff gets his toolbox, he's through it in five minutes.
This is the place. Finally. It has to be. Geoffrey stoops a little to enter, and it really is awfully tiny, really just a closet, absolutely black. It smells damp and earthy, but when he sweeps it with the flashlight, the whole thing looks concrete. And there's the box. Just sitting there, in the middle of the floor. "In the belly of the beast," he thinks. Again, there is an ordinary switch, and a single bulb.
"Jesus fucking Christ!"
In the light, the box is even smaller than it looked on the net. Flat-black paint, rectangular, completely sealed. Like a trunk. A clear tube comes out the middle of one end and nestles on the floor. There's a latch, but no lock, just a dirty bolt pushed through the hasp. Geoffrey pulls it out and opens the top, which is heavy, filled with insulation and lined with cloth. It opens with a squeak, and as he swings it up and back, there's a powerful stench of urine.
And there's Anne.
She's hunched far down inside. "In the belly of the belly of the beast." For a moment, Geoff doesn't know what to do. He just stares at her.
She is exactly as in the video, closed in on all sides by Styrofoam, her head far, far down in the stock. Her face is completely encased in a vinyl mask, and she must still have the ear and nose plugs. Her arms are secured with handcuffs. She's tiny, hardly child-sized, so much smaller than he remembers, with bones that push outwards against her skin. There's a recurrent raspy sound where the tube from the floor ends at her mouth.
She surely feels the movement of the box and the cool air. She has felt nothing at all, for how long? She undulates, and the sweat of her back, which had pooled in the hollow places, runs down her sides.
Geoffrey touches her. Her spine feels sharp under the thinnest skin he can imagine. "God. Annie." He touches her again. He wants to keep touching her, but he has work to do. He loosens the nut and lifts the top half of the stock from her neck. He takes the straps off her ankles. She begins to move her head back and forth a little and make little, whining noises. Geoff gets excited. When he bends to lift her out of the box, the breathing tube pulls out of her gag.
"Damn, she's light!"
Geoffrey sits Anne on the floor and holds her with his left arm behind her back while he tries to unfasten her. She sits with legs splayed, head falling backwards, making a whistling sound through the rubber ball. The gag is easy. It comes away slimy. The mask adheres to her skin and makes a tearing sound as it comes off. Anne's flesh is damp under it. The hair under the mask is plastered to her head. She seems blind. The nose and ear plugs aren't any problem. They pull right out. She's trying to move her legs, to stretch them, and to move her head. She's making those mewing sounds, and panting. Then her eyes seem to focus, and she knows who he is.
"Geoffy! Geoffy!" She looks like she's yelling, but he can hardly hear her.
"Geoffy!"
She doesn't have enough wind to push her words or even to make sentences.
"Geoffy!" She doesn't believe it. She looks around for her husband and tries a sentence. "I'm sorry, Geoffy. I'm sorry. Help me. I'm sorry. Please. I tried to be good, Geoffy. But I couldn't." She looks all around the room again. She's shivering. "Geoffy!"
"It'll be okay, Anne. I'm here."
"Geoffy!"
He carries her out to the main basement area, Anne shaking harder, her head on his shoulder, whimpering more. He can't believe her lightness. She doesn't weigh anything. She almost floats in his arms. Every few seconds, she wheezes his name.
The desk has dozens of keys, the very first one of which fits the cuffs. He removes them, and Anne's arms fall straight down to her sides. It's like they're attached only by skin. She is utterly flaccid and passive, but she keeps saying, "Geoffy!" She really can't believe he's here. She doesn't understand anything.
The corset straps are a problem. They're much too tight to unfasten, so Geoffrey lays Anne on the concrete and rummages through his toolbox for a box cutter, slices through them, and peels the corset off. There's another tearing sound. It leaves behind a brown scum of old sweat and dead skin. Anne begins to get air in a series of gasping, phlegm-clotted wheezes. She coughs, breathes, coughs, and breathes some more. It's some time before she can control the coughing, and she wheezes the whole time. Her breath is foul. There's some sort of rattling sound when she inhales.
"Get going, Geoff. Up the stairs." It's like carrying an eight-year-old. Geoffrey looks upward, but he keeps seeing the box, below in the closet, holding Anne down in the darkness. Concrete. Nothingness. Anne.
"9-1-1. Come on! Come on!" Geoff has to lay Anne on a couch to call, and she says something that sounds like she's becoming aware.
"No, Geoffy. No police. Please. No police. He'll be mad!"
He leans down and puts a hand to her cheek. She is cold now, still damp. Her small breasts are absurdly well-defined, there being no fat to soften them.
"It's okay, Annie. We need them. I'll be with you the whole time, okay?" Anne tries to use her hands. She inches her arms along, takes one of his hands with both of hers, and pulls it to her face. "Geoffy, Geoffy. He'll punish me. For being bad." She coughs some more while he talks to the 9-1-1 operator. Her cough is ragged and coarse. Then,
"Where are your clothes?"
"Clothes? I..." She looks at him blankly. "Geoffy."
"I'll go look."
"No!" She grabs his hand. Where did she get that strength? "Don't leave, Geoffy! He'll punish me! Don't leave! Tell him I tried! Tell him!" She starts coughing again, and it looks like she's crying, but there aren't any tears. The coughing seems to hurt her. She holds on to Geoffrey's hand and coughs and tries to say "No!" through the coughs, and finally, Geoffrey holds her to him and caresses her damp hair.
"Okay. Okay, Annie. I won't leave you. I promise."
"He'll punish me!"
"No, he won't, Anne. Never again. He'll never hurt you again."
"But he will!"
Geoffrey looks her in the face for a minute, patting her hair. "Anne, he can't hurt you anymore because I'm here."
"He will." But there is uncertainty in her voice.
"Listen to me, Anne. Listen." He kisses her forehead. "If he ever comes back, I will kill him. I will. I will kill him. He can never come back, ever again." Geoffrey says this in as calm and matter-of-fact a voice as he can manage, and Anne stares up at him as though she can't comprehend what he means, but she becomes calmer.
He carries her back to the bedroom. It isn't any trouble, though he catches himself staring at her body. Her clothes are where they've probably been for months, in her closet and dresser as in any middle-class bedroom, your private, safe place. He dresses her in a little short-sleeved blouse, panties, and slacks. The slacks won't stay up, so he uses a safety pin at the waist to make them fit. Then he carries her to the kitchen.
That's where the police find them, in the kitchen. Anne is curled on Geoffrey's lap, her head on his shoulder, looking like a sick child, and he is giving her sips of water from a glass. Shreds of bread and an open tuna can show that he has fed her a little.
A paramedic tries to take Anne to a gurney. "No, no, no, no, no! Geoffy! Geoffy!" They can't get her to let go of him.
"Come on, son," says an older cop. "We need to ask you some questions." But the result is the same. Geoffrey strokes Anne's hair and kisses her face. "There, there, Annie. I'm here." She is shivering again. Finally, he looks apologetically at the cop.
"I'm sorry, officer. I can't go anywhere as long as she's like this. I'm not going to try to get away. Can you interview me here?" So they do. "Send someone down to the basement. Look at the set-up where he tortured her. And look at the box he kept her in."One paramedic examines Anne while the other begins a glucose drip. As long as she can hold some part of Geoffrey, she cooperates.
When the police come back up, their attitude has changed completely. They call for criminalists to catalogue the basement, and they arrange for an arrest order for Victor. The older cop asks if Anne really had been kept in that box, but Geoffrey isn't paying much attention anymore. He holds Anne and tries to answer questions, but he keeps finding himself waking with his head leaning on hers.
More strange people come and go, more all the time. Every time Geoffrey raises his head off Anne's, there are new people. He wants to be helpful but he can't keep himself awake. At some point, a pack of reporters gathers just outside the crime scene tape, to film everything and shout questions. Then the paramedics wake Geoffrey enough to have him help get Anne onto a gurney, and he holds both her hands and leans over her to calm her and shield her from the reporters, while someone else guides them past the press and into the EMS van. He will never know how his car gets to the hospital. All he knows is that she holds him the whole way. She burrows her face into his chest, right up by his underarm, and he keeps his face against her cheek and whispers to her, when he isn't nodding off, about how everything is going to be fine now, and he is shocked at himself to find he is happier than he can remember ever having been. | null | Part Four: "The Box" | Authors/h_jekyll/Control part 4.txt |
118,775 | H. Jekyll | Chattooga River II: Maggie and Magic | You have pretended to be a witch, but you don't know the magic I control. My power is great in places I have visited recently, where my essence is strong. It is strong on the river in the weeks after I was there, waiting for you to raft in my wake.
You can feel my presence, can't you? Don't try to fool me. I know everything you experience, Maggie. I know that at one point, and just for a second, you could swear one of the other rafters was me. It seems odd to you, but two or three times you thought you heard my voice. What was I saying?
There are three rafts in this group, enough people to keep mysterious things at bay, or at least enough for you to think so. You concentrate on your chores as you portage the raft down to the river, climb aboard, practice rowing together. You're getting to know each other and the river. You become entranced by the river, by all the birds, from raptors to hummingbirds to tiny green birds that you've never seen before, by the changing color and the clarity of the water, the stillness of the quiet stretches that seems eaten up by the voices of the rafters, and the rushing sound of the water when you approach rapids. You stop thinking of me entirely.
When you stop for your lunch at a little beach, after the rafts have been pulled ashore and while the guides are busy spreading the food out, you explore a little rise to the right. There is a path, a very steep path, and once you have climbed it you are shrouded in small trees. The moment you are there, you feel fingers on your nipples.
You know it is me, almost instantly. You hardly have time to be startled before you know. Hands squeeze your nipples, sometimes hard.
You gasp and reach your hands to your breasts, but there isn't anything there. You can't see anything, and you feel nothing with your hands, but your breasts can feel me. You stand perfectly still; you feel the first stirring in your sex now, but you don't have any idea what to do, and then you are called to lunch. The nipple play stops.
You eat little, talk little. You move away from everyone else, to the water, and pretend to be looking at it, but really you are wondering about what you have just felt. You think: Did it happen? Am I nuts?
Yes, it did. No, you're not. Let me demonstrate.
The hands start caressing your pussy and you are immediately tense. You move your own hands to your pussy, furtively, glancing over your shoulder to see if anyone is looking. It is as before: your hands don't feel anything but your own body. Your clothes aren't moving. As far as the ghostly hands are concerned, your hands and clothes aren't there at all. They are moving over your sex again and again. Again. They are moving continuously, so softly, so perfectly, exactly the way you like it done. My never-never hands, the ones that could seduce Tinkerbell away from Peter. Oh, your pussy can feel them wonderfully. You realize that I am going to keep playing with you, and that you are helpless to affect what I will do. If you were alone, you would love this, you would give into it immediately. Give into it? You would demand it! But what if these people see the effects on you of my unearthly sexing?
"Please, Henry," you whisper, "People will notice. They'll think I'm crazy. Please don't do this." The fingers pinch your clitoris and you gasp: "Oh! Please Henry. Okay, okay. But please don't humiliate me. Do it, but please..."
You stop as a wave of pleasure rises. Not an orgasm, but a current nonetheless. You are so worried, and so excited.
While everyone climbs into rafts, the fingers caress you only very lightly, mostly around your sex rather than on it. They keep you high, but by concentrating you can paddle with the others. Then, at the entrance to the first rapid after lunch, the fingers begin to play with your ass. You wriggle and move so your anus is right on the rubber wall of the raft, but it makes no difference. You feel me playing, then inserting a finger, then rubbing around and around your ass while I loosen you and open you.
You have to stop rowing, and the raft gets stuck on a rock. You try to help your crew, but you keep having to stop with the waves of pleasure and, yes, some moments of pain. The other people seem to think you're just not very effective. Two fingers, a thumb, are now moving in and out of you, and another hand is playing with your pussy. You can't think of anything else; and you can't affect the hands at all. You daren't ask me to stop, for fear of how I will respond.
Going over the seven-foot drop, the raft almost capsizes, and you do fall out. This is the first spill, so everyone gets a good laugh while you're pulled back aboard. They think your panting is from the exertion.
The drop is almost a little fall. Just beyond it, people are given the option of walking back upstream and swimming from a small pool, though a cave-like opening in the rocks, to its underside. Everyone else goes, but you stay back, claiming the walk is too much for you, and as soon as they have started away, my hands pull you to your knees and push you down so you are on all fours. The hands keep playing with you. You can't help trying to feel them with your own hands.
"Henry, Henry, they will catch us. Please!"
Then you feel a penis at your ass and you know what is coming. You wonder: what do I do? But you don't have to do much. Your ass is open under your clothes and you feel a penis, my penis, at it. There is pushing and I am in you, pushing all the way in, giving you that sensation that is so strangely different from coitus, a mass filling you up from the wrong direction and never going the way you try to direct it.
Your ass is so much more sensitive to pressure and pushing than is your vagina. The prick moves in and out, not rapidly but deliberately, all the way both ways, while the hands play with your pussy and your breasts, stroking lightly and continuously, not letting one sensation fade before the next one is layered on.
You are submitting to this. What else can you do? You are getting so high, so close now. This strange rape, mysterious lovemaking, has you, and you begin making sex sounds, pushing against me, afraid of being caught but actually more turned on by the prospect. You're almost coming, almost there, almost, then you begin to come enormously, and just as you start to scream, a hand clamps over your mouth and muffles you, so you cry and moan against the hand until you are finished.
Then the penis pulls out of you and the hands dissolve, and there is nothing there but you and your gaping anus. That and a head full of sensations and thoughts that swirl together while you fall to your side until your breathing becomes normal. It is only now that you realize that you saw the hand that covered your mouth. It was flesh and bone. You reach back inside your swimsuit, to your ass, where you feel something warm and viscous, and your hand comes away with a little milky fluid. By smell, it is real cum, nothing ghostly. You lick it and wait for the others to return. | null | null | Authors/h_jekyll/Chattooga River II -- Maggie and Magic.txt |
118,779 | H. Jekyll | Maggie | You have known from our earliest correspondence that I have a dark side, that I really am a Doctor Jekyll and Mr. Hyde. I think you were seduced by that knowledge. That must be why we kept returning to the dark stories, exploring their power, edging toward practice. Still, how was I able to persuade you that we should meet in person, to play a "game" of domination? Were we prepared for the passion when we could see and touch each other?
Is your memory of it all the same as mine? Does the memory excite you as much as it does me? Do you remember it this way?
We met, and after I told you my fantasy, you agreed to be bound. I was excited, the impetuous male, but your excitement was mixed with doubt. How uncertain were you? How reluctant? Your agreement demonstrated the level of trust between us; if it weren't solid, you never would have gone through with this, letting yourself be under my control, but I could tell you were close to calling it off nonetheless.
You came even closer when I got reckless. You have told me repeatedly that you don't find pain erotic, but I slowed everything down to tell you that along with being bound, you had to know that I could hurt you, that even loving you, I would find it arousing to hurt you.
I wanted to take away your sense of security, to make the game more dangerous, more thrilling. Would this end it? There was time to reconsider. Or were you high enough to experience a frisson at knowing the safety net was gone? Ecstasy! I was right. The thrill moved through your belly and overcame your judgment long enough for my purposes.
Quickly now! Don't allow second thoughts. I stripped you with kisses and caresses, telling you I love you. You were both anxious and excited, like you had been since I installed the hook and chain over the closet door, but higher, more needy. You kept glancing at them, then back to me. I don't think you considered how to remove them after I left. No, only what I would do with them. You were breathing so fast by then that I feared you might hyperventilate, but the fear became excitement when I considered that you would be dizzy and maybe disoriented.
I had a pair of sleeves that I had found in a sex shop somewhere, like nothing you'd ever seen. They were black velvet tubes that fit from your wrists to your elbows, and all along them were eyelets intended for lacing. When I slipped them on you, they were incredibly soft moving up your forearms, softer when on completely, still soft as I laced them with leather laces, all the way up, and tied them off. I did everything slowly.
You had been wordless until now, one of the rules of our game, but when you saw how the sleeves looked with your skin as a foil, you exclaimed: "They're beautiful, Henry! I never thought I could feel so sexy."
You wanted to go on, but I shushed you: "Don't talk, Maggie. You're my girl and must be still for me." Yes, I did tell you *were* sexy in them, Maggie, sexual, and that you would be even more sexual and beautiful when you were immobilized.
You were as right as anyone could be. I shushed you as part of the game, but your hands were pale and feminine coming out of the velvet; your body too.
Several rings were sewn into the sleeves, along with a clip that let me secure your hands together. In the same shop where I had found the black velvet sleeves, I found a length of black velvet rope that tied beautifully into a ring, and with which I walked you to the closet door. It took only a moment to thread it through the chain and pull your arms up.
You had thought there would be more ceremony.
I remember it perfectly. You were facing out toward the bedroom, your arms stretched over your head, almost completely off the floor, standing on tip-toes. I'm stronger than you had expected, and it was so easy for me to lift you. It was easy to see that this made you more anxious, and hotter. Anyone could tell it.
You've read my stories and know that this is a position I like to use for my women, my victims, so you weren't surprised when I spread your legs and tied your feet, with more velvet rope, to screw-rings I'd installed at the sides of the closet doorway. You weren't uncomfortable, but you could hardly move.
I'm not sure why I waited until then to strip. I do remember that the feeling in my penis while tying you was almost profound. My dick was larger than I can remember it growing in years. My chest was tight, and I had to take large breaths before I could talk.
We kissed, rich and delicious kisses, and I played with your body. My cock was pressed against your belly. I recall little sounds that you made in the back of your throat, and I remember asking myself if it was time to move beyond what you expected.
Yes. I went to a leather satchel on the bed, took out a roll of black cloth, and brought it to you. I couldn't wait for you to see what it held. I couldn't wait to see your face when you saw.
It held a series of bright, stainless steel tools: skewers, scalpels, long pins, pliers, scissors. They gleamed beautifully.
I let you look at them for a moment. You almost stopped breathing.
Finally, you said something, but you said it without the breath to push it, and I could barely hear you: "Wait a minute. What are you doing, Henry? I don't think I want to do this."
"Maggie, love, these are just in case. You need to be obedient and quiet. I don't want you talking at all. Do you understand?"
Your mouth was open a little. Your eyes were large. You couldn't disguise your sudden fear, though you tried to act brave. What were you thinking now? You didn't say anything more at all, but you nodded.
"Good. You can make noises. In fact, I'd like you to. But no words. The other thing is that you have to do everything I tell you. Everything. Do you understand that, Mags?"
Again you nodded. You stared and stared at the tools, then stared in my eyes. The room was deathly silent, so silent I could hear the clock ticking from out in the living room. Nothing in my whole life was more charged than that moment. I was afraid I might come without even touching my penis, and I've never in my life done that.
I put the tools away. I didn't want to break the spell, but it was time to continue. When I returned, we began kissing again. It wasn't as before, though. No, you were going through the motions at first, just trying not to antagonize me, acting like a victim, feeling like a victim, fearful like a victim.
It was the first time you had ever felt any real fear of me, and it was slow to evaporate. But I was kissing you and caressing you, and you finally must have decided that it was just part of the game, and your passion returned, actually sweeping over you like a wave. I sensed the change in your kissing and your body when it happened.
The doorway was wide enough that I could move all the way around you easily. I tied a soft blindfold over your eyes, then began circling you. I touched you everywhere, brushing your skin with my nails, licking you, giving you little bites. I love underarms, so of course I nibbled on yours, both sides. I sucked your nipples, then ran my tongue around and around them. I played with your pussy. I knelt and licked you there. I wanted to get you higher, as high as possible; blindfolded and immobile, not knowing where the sensations would come next, waiting. Where next? There. There.
I left you for a minute, left you wondering and waiting, your body moving a little this way and that, left you frustrated, to get some mentholated petrolatum so I could push a greased finger up into your ass. Oh, that changed your motions! You gasped and began to twist about. You were thrashing, Maggie, but your arms and legs couldn't move. Oh, it is too strong! It burns. No, no it doesn't.
No indeed. Once you knew it wouldn't hurt you, it pulled your passion up another notch. I spread more mentholated grease on your pussy and your nipples. It was both hot and cold, of course; but you were just hot.
You were so easy, Maggie.You had never been tied, never played this game, so everything was new to you, and you got excited so quickly that you made deep moaning sounds when I merely tongued your navel or nipped you on the waist. Had you wanted this all your years and not known it? Was it a new land that held an entrancement you hadn't imagined?
You wanted to ask me to do specific things, but you couldn't because I wouldn't let you talk, and even this excited you. I moved my fingers back and forth through your slippery labia. I was still circling you, Maggie, touching you at different places all the time. You must have thought I'd bring you off without first making you dance. Were you surprised when I stopped all at once?
I stopped touching your nipples or pussy. I touched you everywhere else, but not there. I let my fingers and mouth get oh, so close, but no touching. I got right to your areolas. I barely caressed the outside of your labia. You became frustrated, my love. I could read your mind: don't leave me this high. You tried to move your body toward my hands and my mouth, and you made sounds of frustration.
Finally, you did it. You said: "Sweet heaven, are you going to take all day, Jekyll, love?"
I stopped entirely, stepped apart from you, and stood quietly for a moment before I put my mouth to your ear. It was important to let you know you'd broken my rules.
"Oh, that's my sassy Mags, isn't it? Of course, now I'm going to have to hurt you, darling. I'll try not to enjoy it too much."
At that, you stood completely still. No talking. Not even any breathing at first. Your mouth looked funny, and I thought you might cry. I stepped to you and kissed your lips to stop the trembling.
"Do what I say, my love."
We started kissing together, and you acted wild for my mouth.
Now I did touch your nipples. I tweaked them between my thumbs and fingers, my thumbs moving up and my fingers moving down, making them grow. I sucked on your nipples, then moved slowly down your front, nipping on the white of your breasts, kissing your stomach, nibbling at your waist, going down, down to your sex. I held you by your ass and hips and moved my mouth into you and slathered you with my tongue.
The tension, being caught between fear and desire, was too much for you. You started to come and cried out loudly. You kept crying out.
Then I entered you. Because I am so much taller than you, I had to half-kneel to do it; with everything else that was happening, I still remember the awkwardness of it. I held on to the black velvet rope over your head, fucking upwards into you. But you, my God, I've never seen or heard a woman so explosively orgasmic.
When I came, and it only took a minute, my legs went out from under me, and I had to hold myself up completely by my arms, almost slipping down.
We had a quiet dinner, touching now and then, giving little kisses out of the blue.
You were drawn to the little bundle of tools. I didn't want you to open it, and tried to stop you, but you insisted and soon understood my reluctance; you didn't even try to hide your disappointment that they were just painted plastic. I heard you whisper, "You devil!"
Later that evening, because the days are long, we took a walk along the River Road, arms around waists, hand in hand, mouth on mouth, and I did kiss your hair like I had written I wanted to, long ago. | null | null | Authors/h_jekyll/Maggie.txt |
118,840 | JerseyJ | Your Day | You wake up in an empty bed to rays of sunshine. With your head turned to the side, you notice that the pillow beside you has a wrinkled crater in it. A pleasant reminder of today's date.
Several hours ago, your lover had entered your room in her pajamas and crawled into bed, resting her head on the very same pillow. She woke you up with kisses and strokes to your cheek. It was barely midnight, but she just couldn't wait to give you your present. Like many receivers during the holidays, you could hardly wait to unwrap it. The present was sweet, gentle, and in the end, tiresome. The last thing you remember is falling asleep knotted to the gift box.
You smile at the memory and drag yourself out of bed wearing nothing but boxers. First, you poke your head through the doorway of the bedroom beside yours. It is empty, so you carry on to the kitchen.
There, you see that the table is topped by two microwavable breakfast trays and two plastic cups. One sits before a vacant chair. On the opposite side, the other meal is being munched away by a little girl wearing a white apron.
Your little girl smiles and waves her fork at you, but continues to chew.
You take the seat across from her and begin your most important meal of the day. Pancakes, scrambled eggs, and sausages, in this case.
Naturally, the child finishes her food before you do. She stands up and carries her food to the garbage can.
With her back turned to you, you notice that she's not wearing anything under her apron. The bow is tied just above her bare bottom. You envy that inanimate bow, despite finding yourself in a similar, yet more appeasing, position countless times, including earlier that morning.
Your daughter then tosses her syrupy utensils into the sink with a loud clank and walks over to you and gives you a hug. She loosens her grip to give you a kiss, then takes a sip of her juice. Next, she sinks down and shifts under the table.
You continue to eat your food as you feel small hands manipulating the crotch of your boxers. The feeling of your hard dick being inserted into something narrow and warm, and then dipped into something ice cold causes you to drop your fork on the table and jump in your seat. It's evident that your daughter drank her juice and decided to suck you off with it in her mouth. You allow her to keep it up as you eat.
The roof of the girl's mouth moistens and heats the top of your dick. Occasionally, her teeth scrape you in a way that's more pleasurable than painful. Her tongue takes care of the sides, lapping at one end and then rolling along the bottom to bathe the other. Sometimes, the girl pulls back to create a whirlwind with it. The juice sloshes back and forth in her mouth, keeping the underside nice and chilled. You feel the juice losing volume... mainly on your shorts and the floor.
When you feel the juice fade to almost nothing, you get up to throw out your complete breakfast. You turn to see your daughter retrieving a paper towel for the mess on the floor. Standing by the garbage can, you watch her get on her hands and knees and under the table.
Your daughter smiles over her shoulder and wags her bare butt, which peeks out from under the bow of her apron. Then she turns back to the puddle of juice and thrusts her butt out even more.
Something appears to get a hold of you and pulls you closer to her. You get on your knees and stroke her little butt. The skin is so soft and warm beneath your fingers. Your fingertips glide along her lower body as she raises her ass to give you even more access. You bring your head closer and stick your tongue out.
The giggle that comes from the child after you take a swipe at her back door is like a ringing bell. She lowers her head to the floor.
You get closer and begin lapping between her soft cheeks. The scent of feminine soap tells you that she was prepared for this. Your tongue waves up and down her crack, teasing both the anus and the cunt. Her juices combine with your saliva, adding more flavor. Finally, you form a tube with your tongue and stick it in her ass.
"Eeeeeeeeee," your daughter squeals as her butt is filled with tongue. You move your head back and forth, fucking your daughter's ass with your tongue. "Awww, fuck, daddy! Lick it! Lick my little asshole!"
Having enough of her ass, you pick up the preteen, eliciting a yelp from her at the sudden gesture, and set her on the table. Then you lift the front of the apron before she holds it to her chest. Her fat cunt lips are sealed and shiny with arousal. You sit in the chair and dive in between her legs.
She sits up and plays with your hair as you have your early dessert.
"Mmmm, yeah. Lick it! Roll that tongue on my pussy, daddy!"
You shake your head in her pussy as she lets out a shivering moan. Then you press your forehead into her belly and lap at her entire labia. Your tongue is coated with her fluids just as quickly as you can lick it up. But you cannot get enough of the sweet, aromatic nectar dripping from your slutty little girl's pussy.
"Daddy... ohhh, tongue my cunny."
Your tongue is buried between the thick cunt lips of your child. Up and down you go, collecting sweet fluids from her depths to carry back into your mouth. Her belly heaves as she pants uncontrollably. You love the sound of her passionate cries.
"Aaaaaaooooooohh...!"
The girl's legs lock around your head, burying you in her lap. Hands pull and twist your hair so much that it hurts. The front of her apron falls and partially covers your head. Even more of her juices rain on your face, filling your mouth with her nectar. You proceed to lick her grinding pussy clean. Every lap of your tongue causes her to cry out and shiver.
As soon as you lift your head, the child pushes herself off the table, landing in your lap a lot harder than you'd like. Then she hugs you with apparently all of her strength and looks into your eyes.
"Now fuck me, daddy!" she demanded through the remaining anxiety of her orgasm. "Fuck me in the pussy!"
Holding onto the horny little girl, you push your chair back so the table won't get in the way. She lifts herself so you can direct your cock through the hole in your boxers and to her wet pussy. Once her hole is over your straightened dick, she sits down on it. Your entire length goes into that little vagina of hers.
"Mmmmmmmm..." your daughter moans with a big smile. She then leans toward you and gives you a light kiss on the lips. "Fuck me hard, daddy!"
Your hands move to her hips while she places her feet on the floor and bounces up and down. You watch as part of your shaft repeatedly slides wetly out of that tight pussy, only to go back for more. Then you look at her while she encircles your neck with her arms.
"Mmmm, daddy, you're so big! Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck me hard! Just like that! Yesss!"
And then her lips mash into yours. Her tongue seeks out yours and dances circles around it. Then she breaks the kiss, but keeps your heads together, breathing heavily onto your sweaty face. Her body continues to bounce up and down.
Soon, the girl stands up, allowing your dick to literally pop out of her well-fucked cunt. She walks a few feet forward, then gets on her knees.
"Come on, daddy. Fuck me in the ass!"
You waste no time in getting behind her. Your dick is so wet from the fucking just now, you don't even have to lube it up. With one hand on her ass and the other on your dick, you poke your way into the child's rectum.
Impatiently, the child crawls backwards to get more of you inside. She flattens her palms on the floor and repeatedly pushes her upraised backside into you.
"Hurry up, daddy! I love it when you fuck my ass!"
You hold onto her hips and start pushing in and out of her preteen ass, getting faster as time goes by. Eventually, you're plowing the little girl so hard that your balls are loudly hitting her thighs.
Your daughter suddenly turns her head. Her teeth are clenched tightly as she grins at the sight of your pelvis smacking into her ass over and over. Her eyes roll up to yours.
"Oh, yeah! You love fucking my tight little ass, don't you! Don't you?! Yes! Yes! You love my hot ass! Ooh! I'm getting butt-fucked by my own daddy!" She turned her head and rested the side of her head on the floor. "Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!"
You fuck into her, both your loins coming together with every thrust. She hunches her shoulders and looks down. Her reaction comes in intelligible screams.
Spurred on by your daughter's slutty cries, you lean over so your fists touch the floor. You pump her full of you while she clenches her fists and teeth. You can't stop yourself from moaning even louder. She turns her head and looks up to you.
"OOOOHHHHHHHHH, yes! Yes, daddy! Cum in my ass! Push your big dick deeper and cum all the way up my ass!" She puts her head in her folded arms. "Sssssssss! Oohhh...! Ohh, shit!"
Load after load of your seed is fired from your sack to her bowels. With each blast, you freeze up and enjoy the obscene, satisfied yells from your daughter, who is fucking back at you just as hard as before.
Your daughter turns her head. "Come on, daddy! Come on! Oh! Do that again!"Come in my ass again!" She looks up to the ceiling as she feels another spurt. "Ohhh!"
She stops moving while the last of your cum is shot up her body. Then her face falls hard onto her hands. She impishly wiggles her ass as you attempt to pull out of her.
When you do pull out, your cum drips out of her used asshole and onto the floor.
"Happy Father's Day, daddy," she says, still laying on the floor. | null | null | Authors/JerseyJ/Your Day.txt |
119,141 | Frenchy Frog | Angela III | You may remember from my previous story that Angela is a beautiful black woman that I love deeply. I am the lucky white guy whom she returns that love to.
Angela has an awesome fun-loving personality that drew me to her initially, and it contributes immensely to her attractiveness. We are both thirty-five years old and we have quite a lot in common.
Angela is a clothing importer and supplier to local women's clothing stores. Her business is located in the same large office building downtown where my law office is.
As I said earlier, my Angela is a very attractive woman. She is full-figured, about five feet six inches tall and around one hundred and thirty pounds. She has smooth milk-chocolate toned skin, with a flawless complexion, and her exotic beauty is enhanced by her lovely sweet smile. Her ample 'D' cup breasts are delicious, and her full butt and thighs are enchanting. She has been divorced for some time and has two teenage girls at home.I lapped away like that for a couple of minutes until her hips started to squirm and she was bucking her groin against my face.
Her groans turned into a shriek as her massive orgasm flooded over her, and she jerked and shuddered as if in a seizure. She was bucking around so much that I had a hard time keeping my tongue on her clitoris.
She finally collapsed in a heap on the bed, breathing raggedly.
I lay next to her, holding her in my arms as she gradually returned to reality. After she recovered, Angela finally opened her eyes, and taking my face in her hands, she kissed me. Then she looked deeply into my eyes and said, "Oh, I love you." I looked back and said, "And I love you, too."
She smiled and said, "Oh, my wonderful Ray, that was sooo good. But now it's your turn, sweetie."
She slid down to my waist and kissed my belly button. Then she knelt between my legs and took my hard dick in her hand. She looked up at me and sighed, "I really love you, Ray, and I really love your wonderful cock." She began to stroke my cock as she watched the effect it was having on me, and then she said, "And I love to suck on your wonderful cock, and I particularly love it when you give me all of your delicious cum."
Hearing her say this made my dick harder than ever, and I began to breathe deeper as she popped the head of it into her mouth and started to suck on me.
When she is blowing me, Angela keeps my cock head in her warm, wet mouth during the entire process. She never lets her lips slip completely off the tip except to occasionally lick the shaft and pay attention to my balls. And now, after she sucked on me for a while, she slipped her lips off the head and then down the side of the shaft to stop at my balls, which she had cradled in her hand. Apparently, Angela really does enjoy licking and sucking my balls, because she does such a wonderful job of it, and she was doing so now.
But her lips eventually slid back up the shaft of my cock until the head of it was safely back within her mouth. She sucked up and down on me with fervor for a while, but then one time as she went down, she stopped as the tip of my cock touched the back of her throat. She hesitated for a moment and then, instead of slipping back up again, she went farther down! I felt the head of my swollen cock move through the opening of her throat, and her lips came to rest in the hair on my belly and balls.
I jerked slightly and groaned.
She held the head there for only a second or two, and then I felt it slipping back out of the constriction in her throat. Her wet lips were soon back to the tip of my cock.
I told her how fantastic that felt.
She continued sucking on me as she did before, with her smooth lips gliding up and down my shaft, but every once in a while, she would repeat her little 'deep throat' maneuver, and she would get the same reaction from me.
She had one hand on my cock shaft that shifted up and down to match the movements of her mouth, and the other hand tickled around my anus and fondled my balls. She continued her marvelous actions for several minutes until I was having a difficult time maintaining my cool.
I began to groan, and I told her it was really getting good as she brought me ever nearer to the edge. Angela sensed the imminent approach of my climax, and she began to move faster and faster. I was losing complete control, and I started to mutter, "Oh yeah, oh yeah! I'm gonna cum! It's getting - closer -- closer --- CLOSER ---- CLOSER! ----- CLOSER!!" I lost all sense of reality as I began to erupt in her mouth. Angela sucked and swallowed each spurt, as my cum gushed out again and again, and my body shuddered.
After a moment or two, Angela realized that I had reached my peak and was slowly slipping back down into the real world, so she began to slow her actions, but she continued to gently suck on my softening dick, draining every last drop from my balls. My lover finally stopped and released my limp dick from her warm, wet, oral prison.
She gave the little cum hole a tender kiss and then, smiling up at me, Angela slipped next to me on the bed. I reached out to hold her in my arms. I hugged her close to me, and we held each other in a long, sensual kiss. After our lips parted, I could sense the aroma of my semen on her breath. I kissed her again and told her I loved her. She smiled and answered that she loved me too. We cuddled in each other's arms and together fell into a blissful sleep.
Chapter Three
The next day, Angela and I went to a big fashion show event where she was dazzled by the new showings from the major fashion houses of Paris. I really wasn't interested in seeing any fashions and was just 'along for the ride' because I wanted to be with my sweetheart.
As the show proceeded, Angela avidly watched the models pass by us and was quite busy taking notes on the clothes they were wearing. To keep myself occupied, I was avidly watching them pass by us and taking personal, mental notes on which models were the most fuckable.
At a pause in the show, a beautiful, well-dressed young woman came over and asked if she could sit with us. We, of course, agreed. She introduced herself as Michelle Valais and gave us her business card indicating she was a representative of a French clothing manufacturer, the name of which I didn't recognize and couldn't pronounce. But Angela recognized it immediately, and she excitedly whispered to me that it was --- again the name I couldn't pronounce. She was quite thrilled to be making a contact with this fashion giant, because she felt that if she could get their clothes into American stores, she would make a killing on the contracts.
Michelle was a very attractive woman in her early thirties. Her lovely smile immediately made you feel quite comfortable. She spoke very good English with an obvious French accent.
Her complexion was perfectly smooth, but it wasn't quite the same as the other French women I've seen. She had just a tinge of color, which really made her appear slightly exotic. She seemed to have a mixture of some French and some African features. Her brilliant green eyes and her facial features were mostly French, but her black hair was definitely African, and her body was lush and full in the manner of an African female. She was wearing a very chic suit and seemed quite knowledgeable about the fashion world. Angela was overjoyed to make her acquaintance.
The two women talked about the fashions being paraded before us, and then some general chit-chat, for quite some time.
Then, speaking to both of us, Michelle said, "It is somewhat obvious to me that Angela and Ray are not both just fashion world people."
Angela smiled and told her that she was the fashion person and that she had a nice business back home supplying clothing to American stores. Then, to my extreme pleasure, she seemed to delight in stating that I was her boyfriend and also a successful attorney.
Michelle nodded and said, "Aha! I knew it was so. It is very obvious that you are a couple and that the two of you are very much in love."
I assured her that she was absolutely correct in her observation, and now Angela smiled proudly as she looked into my eyes.
Michelle went on to say, "It is also very obvious to me that the two of you really appreciate the pleasures that this world offers to those who forcibly take life by the reins."
I laughed and said that she was most certainly correct about Angela being a person that enjoys life to the fullest. And that I also was an individual who appreciated the finer things that life has to offer, like my wonderful Angela.
Beaming, Angela again looked into my eyes and then touched my cheek. She leaned over and gave me a sweet kiss and whispered, "I love you so much."
Chapter Four
Michelle, Angela, and I sat together the rest of the afternoon, and after the show was over, Michelle asked us if she could show us some of the nightlife in Paris - Her treat, of course. Angela was obviously excited about this, and we both readily agreed to accompany her.
We went to a lounge close by and ordered drinks. Michelle said she wanted to call a friend and ask him to join us, if that was okay with us. We happily said that it was wonderful, the more the merrier. So, she excused herself to make the call.
Michelle was gone for about five or ten minutes and then came back to order a second round of drinks for everyone.
Her friend arrived shortly afterward, and Michelle introduced him as her lover, Andre. He greeted us, held Angela's hand and kissed it, and then bowed slightly toward me. He seemed to be a suave, laid-back Frenchman.
Then, as Andre leaned down to kiss Michelle, she quickly whispered something to him in French, and he smiled broadly. He sat down, and she ordered a drink for him.
Andre had a very charming smile and seemed quite confident of himself. He wasn't heavy or slim, tall or short. He had no distinguishing features, other than his engaging smile. He basically was an average man. But he was handsome, in a swarthy European way, because of the magnetic personality he exuded.
Andre also spoke good English, but with quite a heavy French accent, so we could all converse with very little problems. As we all chatted, I learned that Andre, like myself, was not involved in any way with the garment trade, but we never did hear exactly what it was that he did for a living.
After the introductions and pleasantries, Michelle and Angela immediately started discussing the fashions that were at the show earlier. Every once in a while, I would mention something, and Andre and I would exchange a few words, but he and I mostly just sat and relaxed.Angela and Michelle chatted away like magpies, so Andre and I just coasted along, sipped our drinks, and listened to our women talk.
After we had been there for about an hour, Michelle said she had a wonderful restaurant close by that she wanted to take us to, and we all agreed we were ready to eat. The restaurant was only a few blocks away, so we all merrily walked to it, laughing and chatting the whole time.
When we arrived at the restaurant, which was inside a large hotel, it was obvious that Michelle was a favored customer there, because the maître d' all but rolled out the red carpet for us. With broad smiles and snapping fingers to attract serving persons, we were seated at a plush table, and Michelle proceeded to order for all of us. We sipped wine and ate the most elegant and delicious dinner.
During dinner, the conversation turned to our backgrounds and our families. Angela talked about her business, her two girls, and our relationship, and I added a few comments here and there. Michelle explained that her father was French, and her mother was from Somalia - Ah! That was what accounted for the exotic aura that surrounded her!
Andre smiled and listened to everyone else, but really didn't add much to the conversation and never did explain anything about his own personal history.
The more we all talked, the more Michelle opened up about herself and her background. We learned that her mother was an ex-high-fashion model and that Monsieur Valais had met her through the fashion industry, and they had fallen in love.
Michelle eventually revealed that her parents were actually quite wealthy and that she was also. As it turned out, her father and mother were the owners of the large fashion house that Michelle had told us she only worked for. After learning this, it didn't take a very bright detective to figure out what Andre did (or didn't do) for a living.
Angela and I were scheduled to be in Paris for several days, and we hit a number of different fashion shows, but we always seemed to bump into Michelle at each one. After each event, Michelle insisted that we go out with her and Andre, and they really entertained us copiously. They wined and dined us at the finest places, as they introduced us to the glamorous nightlife of Paris, France.
Michelle always had a car with a driver at her disposal, and as a result, we were not subjected to any more French taxi rides.
Angela and I were actually having a fabulous time with our new friends, Michelle and Andre, and we all seemed to genuinely enjoy each other's company.
Friday night was to be our last night in Paris, because Angela and I were scheduled to leave for Rome the next afternoon. Of course, we all went out together again, but Andre drove his car this time, for our last gala night on the town. They again escorted us to fine dining and drinking establishments, and the four of us were having a raucous good time together.
It was after three o'clock in the morning when we decided to top off the evening of eating, drinking, laughing, and silliness. Michelle and Andre invited us to come to their apartment for a nightcap. Of course, Angela and I readily agreed, so off we went and arrived at their place shortly thereafter.
We all relaxed in Andre and Michelle's living room. They both kicked off their shoes and told us to do the same and to just relax. So Angela and I both made ourselves comfortable there also.
As he served the brandy, Andre kissed Angela on the cheek and then, in typical French fashion, kissed a peck on my cheek as well.
He smiled and then sat down next to Michelle on the couch. We sipped our brandies and laughed and chatted about the evening for some time.
Suddenly, without any warning, Michelle stood up and walked over to us. She leaned down and, taking Angela's face in her hands, kissed her full on the mouth and held the intense kiss for a long time. Then she rose, turned towards me, and also sensuously kissed me full on the mouth. I felt her tongue pry my surprised lips apart and probe dartingly into my mouth.
Without a word, she returned to her seat next to Andre and just smiled broadly at us.
Angela and I looked at each other - needless to say, we were nonplussed. Were we missing something here? Was this some custom in French society that we knew nothing about?
Andre and Michelle seemed to be giggling at our confusion.
Finally, Andre said, "My friends, it is obvious you do not understand what Michelle is telling to you." Nodding toward her, he said, "Michelle is saying she is very much turned on by you and, for that matter, I am so also. We want to know if you are interested in doing some 'Swinging' with us. Is that not what you call it in America?"
We were stunned and didn't say anything for a minute. Did he really mean what we thought he did?
Michelle then spoke, "Angela and Ray, I want to assure both of you that if you choose not to do this with us, that it will not carry any obligation on your part and that Andre and I are both only interested in having some fun sex with no strings attached."
Now we were even more confused. I stood and smiled, and then took Angela's hand, bringing her to her feet. I said that this was something that we had to discuss and excused ourselves, and then we both went into the next room.
We were quickly whispering back and forth, considering what had just been proposed.
Angela said, "Wow, I never saw this coming. I'm just really blown away by their proposal. Did you see this coming, Ray?"
Of course, I said no, that it had completely caught me off guard also.
Angela seemed to be thinking for quite some time. Then she held me close and looked right in my face and said, "Ray, you know I'm very much in love with you, and I would never even think about doing anything like this without discussing it with you. Should we even consider doing this? We would both have to be completely on board with this to do anything about it. I want to know what you think of their proposal." Then she smiled a bit impishly and said, "Ya know, you did enjoy that little thing with Wanda and I, and this is something really different and exciting. What do you think?"
I assured her that I also loved her very much and I agreed that it was certainly something exciting to think about. But then I pointedly asked her, "Angela, I want you to tell me what you think about this. I want you to say what you really think, no worries about anything, just your true feelings."
After another pause, Angela finally looked into my eyes and said, "Well honey, this could really be a very interesting thing. Of course, there's no doubt that it's exciting sexually, but then I also might possibly cement a business relationship here with Michelle that could be very profitable for me in the future. I mean, it could really be good for my business, you know? But there's no way that I'd even consider doing anything here without your approval, because we're in this thing together or not at all, okay?"
She stopped and then looked at me and said, "I really love you, honey. Would you have a problem with us doing this? You heard what they said, that it would just be a one-time thing with no strings. There's no way that we would let it mean anything to us regarding our relationship, right?"
I kissed her and said, "You know that I love you very much too, baby. Okay, I agree with you that it's to be a one-time thing, and I don't want it to have any meaning to us either. I guess I have to admit that it's a pretty sexy idea. I'm really curious to see what they have in mind. But I want to make it clear that if we pursue this little adventure any further, the only way we'll do it is if you are also completely okay with it. It won't cause me any problems, but I don't want you to have any issues over it either, okay?"
She nodded, and then, smiling at each other, we both agreed that anything we did here in Paris would stay here in Paris and would not follow us back home, nor would we let it cause any problems in our relationship with each other.
We kissed each other hard, and then, holding hands, we returned to the living room and sat down across from Andre and Michelle.
Michelle smiled at us and asked, "Well, my American friends, have you made up your minds regarding our proposal?"
I smiled back at her and Andre and, speaking for both of us, said, "Michelle, Andre, we are very interested in hearing exactly what you have on your minds."
Andre and Michelle looked at each other and smiled broadly.
Michelle turned to us and explained, "My dear friends, I must state up front that we are definitely not interested in any prolonged romantic or sexual involvements or anything like that. Andre and I have really enjoyed spending time with you two, and we both thought that having sex with you would also be a real fun time. But, I must emphasize that this would only be a one-night thing of sexual pleasure between us, nothing more. And again, there will be no obligations on either side towards the other parties - No strings. This is just to be a fun time."
Angela and I nodded and both agreed that would be the only way we would want to approach it also.
Andre beamed and said, "Magnifique!"
Then, smiling broadly at me, Michelle stood and took my hand. She urged me to my feet and without another word, she began to lead me down the hallway. As I followed her, I turned to look back at Angela and blew her a kiss.She smiled back at me and puckered her lips toward me as Andre motioned for her to move over and sit next to him.
Michelle and I walked down the hall to her bedroom, and she closed the door. Without a word, she turned, put her arms around my neck, and began to kiss me passionately. I was totally swept away and returned her kiss with just as much passion.
Our hands were immediately busy removing each other's clothes, and in only a few moments, we were both naked.
The room was lit intimately, but certainly well enough for me to see what was being exposed before my eyes. As I said before, Michelle was a very attractive woman in her early thirties. Her exotic complexion and chiseled facial features make her a very beautiful and desirable creature.
She was about five-four tall, and I'm guessing she only weighed about a hundred and five pounds. She let her black hair down, and it fell halfway down her back. Her full breasts were lovely and firm, and they were crowned with areolas that were large dark circles with pert nipples in their centers. She had a flat tummy and quite a thick patch of black curls covering her mound. Her waist was slim, but it flared to full hips. As she turned slightly, I got a nice view of her adorable, firm and round, bubble-butt.
I couldn't take my eyes off her delicious body, and she knew it. The grinning naked Goddess standing there before me completely mesmerized me. She finally caught my eye and smiled wickedly as she moved away from me toward the bed and then casually laid down. With her seductive smile, she licked her lips and then motioned for me to follow her onto the bed.
As I quickly joined her, our arms caressed each other, and we passionately kissed again. My hands moved to her ample breasts as I kissed her ear, and her delicate hand quickly found my cock. As I fondled her breasts, her nipples grew hard and firm between my fingers. My dick also grew hard and firm as her hand lovingly stroked it and caressed my balls.
I sucked one nipple into my mouth, and she began to moan. After a few moments, I moved to the other breast, and she moaned even louder. As I sucked, my hand wandered down her belly to the warm triangle of her pussy. By now, the movement of her expert fingers had brought my cock to an enraged state. I dipped my finger between her legs, and they opened automatically to give me complete access to her depths. Her snatch was wet with anticipation, and my fingers explored every area of her crack. Michelle's breathing was becoming labored as my fingertip concentrated on touching her super-sensitive clit.
Under her expert hands, my cock had reached a state of petrification that rivaled Granite. I abandoned her full breasts with their swollen nipples to move my tongue down her belly, and I paused to lick the inside of her thighs. She must have really liked this because her moans increased and soon reached a near groaning pitch. Her hands grabbed the back of my head and moved my face right onto her wet slit.
I, of course, knew exactly what to do down there, and my tongue began to spread open her hungry pussy lips. I licked her slit from top to bottom, stopping for brief periods to lap at her enlarged clit.
After several minutes of my prolonged cunt lapping, Michelle was fidgeting and groaning, and her breathing was really getting ragged. Her head was turning from side to side, and she was mumbling something in French that I couldn't understand, but you don't really need a translator to know when a woman is getting close to cumming.
Her hips began to buck her pussy up against my face. I increased my tonguing of her clit, and then her body stiffened, and she let out a small scream.
She was holding the back of my head and tightly pressing my face into her pussy as her massive orgasm crashed down over her. Michelle's entire body shuddered and shook for several seconds, and then she finally collapsed in a heap.
Her hands slowly released my head from her death grip, and her breathing gradually returned to normal.
At long last, Michelle came back from the dead and muttered, "Mon Dieu, qui était fantastique."
With my limited understanding of French, I figured she must have said something like, "My God, that was fantastic."
I was quite proud of myself for making her orgasm so good for her. I smiled broadly and said, "Well, Michelle my belle, we're not finished yet. I still want to eat a little more of your sweet pussy."
This caused a little squeal of delight to come from her.
As I lay down on the bed next to her, I said, "I want you to come over here and straddle my head."
She seemed a bit puzzled, so I guided her up on her knees. As I began to position her legs on either side of my head, it dawned on her what I wanted to do, and she got very eager. I moved her up so her pussy was right over my face. Then I cupped the cheeks of her firm butt in my hands and pulled her wet pussy right down onto my tongue. I began to tease her little, still engorged, nubbin of a clit with the tip of my tongue, and that caused an excited gasp to escape from her lips. My left hand went up to her breasts, and my fingers played with her nipples. That brought another little moan.
Her eyes were closed, and she was mumbling something in French that I couldn't understand. I just kept on lapping away at her dripping wet slit.
Her mumbling got louder, and her hands gripped the side of my head with a fierce hold, pulling my face firmly into her groin.
My tongue was a blur, and her groans were getting louder and louder. Finally, her body stiffened, and her loins began to shake violently. Her moans reached a near scream as she had another crashing orgasm that seemed to exceed the intensity of the first one.
I continued to gently lick the outer lips of her pussy for a few more moments as her body started to relax. I finally stopped with a kiss to her clit.
After several moments, Michelle collapsed on the bed next to me and tried to catch her breath.I erupted with yet another mind-shattering orgasm into her lovely mouth, and she patiently sucked out every last drop that I could give her.
Again to my total surprise, she seemed to be in no hurry to take my dick out of her mouth. She gently cupped my balls in her hand, and with my receding cock still in her mouth, she laid her head back on my stomach.
After I recovered from this second mind-blowing orgasm, I quietly asked her if she was going to lay her head on the pillow next to me. She finally took my completely soft and limp dick out of her mouth long enough to say, "Mon Cher, I am totally content to just lie here as I am. Is this uncomfortable for you with us lying together like this?"
I, of course, told her no, that it was heavenly, lying with her like this, but I wanted her to be comfortable too.
Michelle assured me, "Oh no, my sweet Ray, I am most happy and comfortable like this, and I would really like us to stay just like this, if it is okay with you."
I hugged her head and told her it was wonderful. She popped my totally deflated dick back in her mouth and snuggled up to me again.
We just lay there together, totally relaxed. I was dozing off and on for probably fifteen minutes, when I was startled to again feel her tongue teasing the tip of my dick. Surprised, I asked her, "Michelle, what are you doing?"
Michelle sheepishly said, "Uh, Ray, I am sorry. I was just trying to get you erect once again. Is that something that you do not want me to do?"
I was stunned.
She looked up at me and said, "Oh Ray, I just love having your nice penis in my mouth, and I simply adore the taste of your nectar. I really wanted you to please give me one more little sample of it today."
I told her that she had already gotten two loads of it out of me in the last hour, and I seriously doubted if she could get any more so quickly.
Michelle looked into my eyes and smiled sweetly as she shook her head. She said, "Oh no, my dear Ray, I am so sure that your lovely testicles are not yet empty, and I would really like to try to get one more small amount of your essence out of them."
I told her that I didn't think it was physically possible for me to give her any more tonight. But she begged me to let her try. She pleaded, "Oh please, Ray, I just want a small amount more of what I know is still there within your sack of treasures. Please let me try to have just a little bit more. I will be happy even if it is only a few drops."
Smiling, I nodded that it was okay for her to try, but I still doubted that it was possible. I laid my head back on the pillow, as her sweet, sweet lips began to gently suck on my cock once more. To my surprise, my cock slowly started to get hard again.
She cupped and stroked my balls with one hand as her other hand slipped up and down the shaft of my fully erect cock in a coordinated movement with her softly sucking mouth. She continued trying to coax out one last load of my cum for nearly fifteen more minutes. I really didn't want her to, but I finally asked if she was getting tired and needed to stop.
She looked up at me and with a slightly hurt expression, asked, "Ray, do you not like what I am doing?"
I told her, "No-no. Shit, I love it! This is one of the most awesome experiences I have ever had. It's amazing to just lay here and have you delicately sucking on my dick. You make it feel so fantastic. I completely love it. I'm just a little concerned that maybe you're getting tired, but you just don't want to quit and leave me hanging."
Michelle said, "Oh my dear sweet Ray, you are so worried about me. Do not be so concerned. I am not the least bit tired. And I do not care if it takes me all night to make you to cum again. I just love having your sweet penis in my mouth, and I beg you to please let me keep going until I get some more of your delicious nectar."
Grinning, I lay my head back down, and to my extreme pleasure, she returned to her gentle sucking and stroking of my genitals.
To my complete disbelief, after about five more minutes, her exquisite actions finally began to slowly draw me nearer to yet another orgasm. It started to approach so very slowly that I was almost lost in the drawn-out moment of fabulous pleasure. But as my breathing began to increase, she realized that she was now bringing me closer and closer to the edge of the precipice.
Her mouth came off my cock as her hand stroked it faster and faster. Michelle whispered to me, "Oh my darling Ray, I dearly love the taste of you. I really want you to cum for me one last time, and I need you to please try and give me everything that you possibly can."
As her hand moved with more deliberate motions, I slowly floated nearer and nearer to nirvana. She was whispering more intently now, "Please, Ray, I want you to cum now. I want you to cum real good for me. Please cum for me now. Give me a nice big load of your delicious cum."
I started to moan as she drew me nearer and nearer. Her mouth plunged back onto my swollen, shivering cock again, and that pushed me over the edge.
Then with absolutely no control of the situation, my body let go with everything I had. I seemed to cum and cum and cum again, like my groin was turning inside out. I'm sure that I was only able to give her a drop or so, but she kept sucking away deliciously on my unbelievably sensitive cock. Ultimately, my balls gave up every last little bit of cum they held to her adoring mouth.
She still gently sucked on my cock until it again returned to its softened state. Then and only then did she lay her head on the pillow next to me and relax in my arms.
We lay like that in each other's arms for quite some time, lost in bliss while our thoughts rambled. Every once in a while, she would kiss me on the neck or cheek and then snuggle back into my arms. We just laid like that and eventually fell asleep in each other's arms.
Chapter Eight
The next morning, I woke up when Michelle got out of bed. She gave me a little peck on the cheek and quickly got dressed and left the room. I laid there for a moment or so, gathering my thoughts about the previous night's action. I finally had to admit to myself, "Wow, I thought Angela and I were seriously oral-oriented people, but last night was un-fucking-believable."
Then I finally got up and got dressed also.
I found everyone else in the dining room, where Michelle had coffee and pastries prepared for all of us.
Everyone greeted me with genial "Good mornings," and I smiled, kissed Angela, and then sat down. We all sipped our coffee and talked in pleasant generalities.
I thought that it seemed a bit funny that here we were, all so polite and agreeable, considering that both of the couples had just spent a night of wild sex with the other's partners in adjoining bedrooms, but absolutely nothing was said or even hinted about our individual trysts of the previous night.
Angela seemed to me to be just the slightest bit uncomfortable, but neither her nor I said anything other than normal pleasantries.
After we finished our breakfast, we all agreed that Angela and I needed to get back to our hotel room so we could get ready for the day's activities.
Before we said our goodbyes, Michelle gave Angela her personal telephone number at the clothing manufacturing business and made her promise that she would make contact with her just as soon as she got back to America so they could arrange for some business contracts to be drawn up.
Angela was thrilled and hugged Michelle goodbye. I kissed her hand in my poor imitation of a Frenchman.
Andre drove Angela and I back to our hotel in his car. The three of us pretty well drove in silence, but Angela would giggle every once in a while for no apparent reason.
We said our goodbyes to Andre as he dropped us at our hotel, and we went directly up to our room.
I had no more than closed the door of our room when Angela inexplicably started jumping up and down and squealing and twirling around.
She then danced into the bedroom and started dropping her clothes on the floor as she went. She shouted for me to follow her, and of course, I quickly did.
She was nearly naked by the time I got in there, and I stripped off my clothes as fast as I could. I told her that I was really horny.
She said, "Well, baby, I bet you're not half as ready to screw as I am," and then she squealed again and jumped on the bed. With a huge smile on her face, she welcomed me with open arms and spread open legs.
I climbed into the bed and started to move my face down to her crotch. She grabbed me and pulled me up to her face and said, "No, please, sweetie, as much as I love that, I really want you inside of me now, please."
So I quickly positioned myself between her knees and hugged her to me. She kissed me with wet lips, and then wrapped her arm around my back and her legs around my thighs. Her other hand groped for and quickly found my cock, which was already poking into her belly. She guided my dick into her warm, waiting pussy, and as I felt the eager lips part, I urged my cock inside the velvety channel. Her arms returned to hold me close to her, and she kissed my neck.
I started off very slowly, gently urging my rock-hard shaft deeper into her with each forward movement. She was whispering in my ear how good it felt.
I finally reached full penetration, with my groin pressing firmly against hers, and she let out a low moan. Her hands grasped me tightly to herself.
I held myself completely still, buried there deep within her as her breathing increased with her rising pleasure. I felt her pussy muscles rhythmically gripping my dick, and I responded to her teasing by making my hard rod jump inside her to match her squeezing.Each time it jumped inside her, she moaned quietly, and then her pussy gripped it again. We continued this pleasant teasing for several moments.
Then I slowly began to withdraw until just the head of my cock was still within her lovely moist tunnel and stopped. Next, with determination, I gradually returned the rock-hard shaft to fully penetrate to the bottom of her slippery opening. I repeated this slow action for several strokes. Each time my penis returned to completely fill her, it drew 'Oohs and Ahhs' of pleasure from her.
As I increased the intensity of my stroking, her panting and utterances of 'oh-oh-oh' now accompanied it. I amplified the tempo even more, and her moans also increased to match my plunging.
Now they were coming as 'Oh - oh yeah - Oh-uh - Oh yeah'. Her apparent escalating pleasure urged me on. My loins were moving faster, and her guttural sounds were now, 'OH yeah - Oh that's so good - oh yeah - Oh just like that - Oh don't stop - oh yeah-yeah'.
Her obvious delight with my actions was having a strong effect on me. I felt that old familiar movement of my juices starting to shift, deep within my belly. My cock was swollen and hard like a steel rod as it pounded in and out. My balls were slamming into her bottom. Her fingernails were digging into my back, but I didn't feel any pain because my entire world was centered on the overpowering feeling of intense pleasure that was approaching.
Her moans were now a mish-mash of, 'Yeah-oh - Uh-oh god that's so good -Don't stop -Yeah-oh yeah - Oh I'm gonna cum - Oh just like that - Oh yeah-don't stop', that coincided with the furious rhythm of our body's motions.
I felt my orgasm rushing over me, and I slammed my loins forward into her groin, forcing my cock even deeper into her. Her arms held me so tight that I felt we were joined as one.
As I held myself there, totally impaling her on my cock, it started to spurt a glorious fountain of cum deep within her recesses. My entire body was consumed with the intensity of this orgasm as my cock pulsed and squirted.
She had grabbed me in a vise-like grip and was almost screaming into my ear, 'Ooh yeah - I can feel you cumming - Oh yeah, I love you so much - Oh that's so good - Ooh yeah - Cum in me baby - Shoot all of your wonderful cum into me - Ooh yeah - I'm cumming too - C'mon, squirt that stuff - Oh don't stop - I want all your lovely cum inside of me - I want you in me - Ooh yeah - I want it so good - uhh that's it - Oooh yeah - Uhhhh yeahhh, I'm cummmmming'. Her body straightened out, and her muscles shook as she went over the top and hung there in the upper stratosphere in a state of total pleasure for several seconds.
My orgasm finally subsided, and it appeared that hers was also slowly receding as her death grip of me slowly relaxed. I collapsed on top of her. We both lay there panting in a near state of coma for several minutes. I could feel her pussy still throbbing and surging around my slowly shrinking cock as she gently came down from the summit of her orgasm.
I finally roused enough to roll off her onto the bed, and we lay side-by-side for several more minutes just listening to each other's breathing. I put my arm around her, and she cuddled her head into my chest as we drifted off.
Chapter Nine
Later, we both woke, and as we lounged together there in bed, Angela and I started talking. That's when she coyly asked me, "Ray honey, did you like the sex we just had?"
I was incredulous when she asked me that, and I answered, "What? What do you mean, 'Did I like it?' Of course I liked it, hell I loved it! It was wonderful. You know I love having sex with you. Why in the world would you even ask me if I LIKED it?"
Innocently, she asked, "Uh -- well -- uh, did it still feel the same inside of me as it did before?"
Totally surprised, I said, "Sure honey, it felt fabulous. Why are you asking me if it felt good or not?" Then I was worried. "Did I do something to hurt you? Are you okay? Wasn't it good for you?"
Next, she said, "Oh no-no, sweetie. It was wonderful. I'm fine. Never mind. I'll tell you later. I thought the sex we just had was absolutely great too." Then she kissed me and snuggled up. I just laid there dumbfounded, trying to figure out why the hell she would be asking me if I liked having fantastic sex with her.
*************************************************************
After a few quiet moments, Angela looked up at me and in a soft voice asked, "Ray, are you gonna tell me about your night with Michelle?"
Then, before I could answer, she almost bashfully said, "I could tell that you must have had a pretty good time with her, because of the way you reacted when we got inside the door a few minutes ago. Your excitement told me that you were still kinda turned on by it."
I briefly told her the highlights of my night with Michelle.
The abbreviated version of the story obviously did not satisfy her, and she pressed me for more details.
I told her, "Okay, look, Angela, sweetie, I really need your assurances that if I tell you exactly what happened, it won't make you jealous or piss you off or get you upset with me. You know that I love you very, very much and that nothing could ever change that."
She sat up next to me and smiled that sweet, wonderful smile of hers at me. She touched my face and said, "Ray honey, I love you very much too, and nothing that you could tell me would ever change that. I guess I'm just terribly curious about what the two of you did together, and I promise that no matter what you tell me, I won't get mad or anything. I'm just about to burst with curiosity, that's all, so don't omit anything. Talk to me as if you were bragging and describing everything to one of your buddies. Please don't hold back anything, okay? Please, I'd like to hear about it because you were so obviously turned on by it, and I just want to know if it was as good for you as I'm imagining it was."
I am finally convinced that she will take everything okay, so I go ahead and start telling her everything in vivid detail.
As I am describing how much Michelle seemed to love having my dick in her mouth, Angela was fidgeting on the bed, and the more I told her, the more excited she seemed to get. I figured it was really turning her on, so I didn't hold back anything. My story finally ended with how great it was the third time that Michelle sucked me off.
When I finished telling my story, I leaned over and kissed her lovingly and said, "It was really good sex, but honey, as good as it was, it couldn't compare with any of the wonderful sex that you and I have together, and that's because I love you so much. With Michelle, there was no love, it was just sex."
I touched her face and said, "I feel that after this little escapade, I love you more than ever because you are so understanding. I love you more than anything else in the whole world, Angela."
She kissed me a long, full kiss, and we held each other in a loving embrace that lasted for several moments.
Chapter Ten
Now it was my turn to be a little curious. I finally said, "Okay, it was also pretty obvious that you were quite turned on by your evening with Andre. Just like you, I'm also curious. I'd like to know how it all went with the two of you. Exactly what happened? How did he make love with you? Did he do anything that I don't do?"
Now she seemed a little resistant to tell me anything, maybe for fear that I would get upset with her.
Just as she had reassured me before, I told her that my love for her was so strong that nothing she could say would make me get upset with her. I promised her that no matter what, I absolutely would not get upset - But only if she told me everything, just like I told her, and held back nothing.
That seemed to reassure her, but still a bit tenuously, Angela began to tell me her story.
She looked me right in the eye and said, "Okay, if you are sure that you won't get upset - Here goes. After you left the room with Michelle, Andre coaxed me over to the couch to sit next to him. He poured each of us another glass of brandy, and after I drank it, I was starting to feel a little silly - That stuff is really strong, you know?"
She looked at me very seriously, "Now you're sure about this, right?"
Impatiently, I said, "Yes, yes, come on, tell-tell. Don't hold back anything!"
She began again, "Okay - Well, at one point, he held my face and gently kissed me, and he held the kiss for a long time. I just held my eyes closed, and my mind kind of got swept away in the moment." She noticed that I was listening closely to her and she asked me again, "Are you sure you're not gonna get upset? 'Cause it gets pretty intense."
I again assured her, "I promise I will not get upset - Go on - Tell it."
She again looked in my eyes and said, "Okay, as long as you're sure. Well, he was hugging me and kissing my neck and ears, when I felt him start to gently massage my breasts. Within moments, he had my blouse open and was driving me crazy playing with my nipples. He kept kissing me on the ears and on my neck, and his lips touching the hair on the back of my neck was causing me to get goose bumps. Then his hand moved to my legs. It began slowly raising the hem of my skirt. I, of course, knew what he was doing, and I didn't stop him. Then his hand was slipping down between my legs."
While she's talking, my dick was getting as hard as a board.
Oblivious to my excitement, she went on, "He was still playing with my nipples, and I was getting so excited that my pussy was sopping wet. When his fingers touched my panties and my pussy underneath, I involuntarily gasped. That caused him to pause for just a brief moment, and he urged me to remove my panties, which I quickly did. Then he returned to kissing my neck, and his fingers continued to explore."When his fingertip moved between the wet lips of my pussy, I shuddered.
Angela had my complete rapt attention.
She went on, "Then I reached over and found his swollen crotch. I could feel his erection pressing out the front of his pants into a tent. I unzipped his pants and I could feel his erection spring out. When I finally got it in my hand, I was shocked - it was huge! I sat up and looked at it. It must have been nearly as big as my foot, and it was as hard as a piece of wood, but still as smooth as silk. I don't know how else to describe it. His penis was just immense! And then I realized that his balls were also big to go along with it.
His fingers were still up inside my pussy, and he knew just exactly where to touch me to send chills through me. It was really starting to feel so good.
Then he abruptly stood up, took my hand, and guided me down the hall to a bedroom that must have been next to the one you and Michelle were in.
When he closed the door and turned on the light, I could see that big thing of his sticking out of his open pants. He shrugged off his shirt and dropped his pants to the floor, and stepped out of them.
There it was, standing out in front of him. Sticking out from his crotch like a huge pole. Ray, it was just gigantic! I was stunned and just sat there on the bed staring at it. It was the biggest thing I'd ever seen.
He told me to get undressed and lay back on the bed. As if in a fog, I followed his instructions without hesitation. But I couldn't take my eyes off of his massive penis. I was mesmerized by it. He was smiling as he watched me staring at it in awe.
Every once in a while, it seemed to buck slightly all on its own, and there appeared to be a small glistening droplet forming on the end. I was consumed with the sight of this monument to manhood exposed before me. I was getting so excited thinking about it, that I really wanted to have sex with him, but the whole time I was also wondering whether or not it was possible for me to take all of it inside me.
Before I really knew what was happening, he was between my legs, and his monster was poking at my opening. I reached down and helped him get it started inside me, but it was just SO BIG!
Here she stopped her narrative, looked at me very seriously and said, "And Ray honey, I want you to know that I love your wonderful penis. Yours is exactly the perfect size for me, and I completely love yours just the way it is. I love the way it feels in my mouth, and it feels so good when it's inside my pussy. I wouldn't trade your sweet penis for any other one in the whole world. You know that I really mean that, don't you honey?"
All I could do was look back at her and nod.
She seemed satisfied and went on. "It's just that I was so excited because his was so different and so much bigger than anything else I have ever had. In fact, I have never even seen one that big before. Not from any of the brothers that I have been with or in any porn movie I've ever seen, and some of them guys have got some really big ones, ya know? I just don't want you to get upset with what I'm going to say now, and I want you to remember that I love you very much."
I told her that I understand exactly what she's saying and that I love her very much too, and that listening to her, I'm really getting excited, but I really wanted to hear everything else.
She looked into my face for assurance, smiled when she saw it, and then went on with her story. "I will say that Andre was essentially very considerate of me and didn't try to just jam all of it inside of me at once. He actually went pretty slowly, and it just inched its way inside me a little bit at a time, but there's no getting around the fact that it was just plain huge! It hurt me a little as he slowly was working it into my poor little pussy, but along with the pain, there was a terrific erotic pleasure.
Eventually, he got the whole thing stuffed up inside me, and then he just held it in there, quite still, for a minute or so. I can't really put into words the feeling that I experienced by having such a tremendous amount of meat up inside my belly. All I can say is that it was really a sexy experience to feel my whole bottom so completely filled up.
I could feel his big penis just pulsing there inside me. My pussy was gradually getting used to having all that mass of flesh up inside me. It still hurt a little bit, but at the same time, it felt so good.
Anyway, he eventually started to slowly move that huge fire hose back and forth inside me, and I tried to concentrate on just relaxing and fully experiencing the... well the... the uh... ya know, the FUCKING that I was getting.
As he began to regularly move that huge penis of his with an in-and-out motion, the pleasure was gradually increasing more and more. I was slowly, but surely, getting so excited that I couldn't hardly stand it anymore. Then his one hand reached over and began to tweak my nipples, and that really moved me closer to the edge.
Then he started plunging away and slamming his thighs into mine. He was banging into me so hard that my entire body shook. I wrapped my arms and legs around him and held on for dear life. It was feeling so good that I just couldn't help myself any more. I went surging over the edge, as my orgasm flooded over me, and I gasped as my entire body stiffened and then shuddered with intense pleasure.
He realized that I was cumming, and he increased the stroking of his immense thing into me. That just extended my orgasm and caused it to keep on flowing over me from the top of my head down to my groin and back again.
Then he groaned loudly, and I felt his body stiffen. He grunted something in French, and I felt his huge penis begin swelling even more. I knew he was about to shoot a load deep inside me. Then it began its throbbing and bucking and surging. I was so excited feeling that big thing of his cumming inside me, that I actually had another small orgasm. He kept on moving his huge cock in and out of me for several more thrusts, and then as it began to subside, he stopped moving.
We finally collapsed on the bed next to each other. I was just lying there trying to catch my breath, when I felt some of his, uh - you know - uh, some of his - well, some of his spunk, starting to slowly ooze back out of me. I grabbed a tissue off the night table to sop it up with.
Ray, I'm tellin' you, he really must have put an awful lot of it up inside me, because it just kept slowly coming back out. I needed three more tissues to clean all of it up.
I looked over at him and I realized that he was snoring. Finally, I was able to relax and fall asleep too.
When I woke up this morning, my poor little pussy was still quite sore from the pounding that huge cock had given me, but I gotta say that I really had an experience different from anything else in my life."
I'd been sitting there listening quietly to Angela's entire story. Now my dick was so hard that it hurt. I told Angela, "Baby, I've never been so sexed up in my life before. We've gotta do it again right now, or my balls are gonna burst."
Remembering everything and talking about it in such detail must have really got her hot to go too, because she grabbed me and kissed me hard. Then she was pulling me to get back between her spread open legs.
We fucked again for the longest time, and it was as good and as exciting as it has ever been.
As we lay in bed afterwards, I was thinking about her story, and I began to understand why she was wondering before if I still thought her pussy felt good. She was worrying that the fucking she had gotten from Andre's big cock had stretched her out so much that she was too loose for me to enjoy fucking her.
I turned toward her, kissed Angela, and said, "Wow honey, your pussy feels so good when I'm inside there. It's just as tight as I could ever want it to be."
This must have been the exact thing she wanted to hear, because she hugged and kissed me for several minutes.
Chapter Eleven
Late that afternoon, we were forced to take yet another kamikaze taxi ride to the airport, but thankfully, we arrived alive.
We boarded our plane without any further problems and then flew to our next stop, which was Rome.
In a business sense, the remainder of our trip was quite gratifying for Angela, and I of course, just enjoyed being with her. We actually were having a great time touring two more major fashion cities of the world and partying at the expense of the customer reps of the large clothing houses in Rome and then London, but the memories of our experience in Paris with Andre and Michelle still loomed large in our minds.
After our scheduled stops were completed and we returned to America, Angela immediately made contact with Michelle in France to set up the contracts with her company. Michelle and Angela have kept up a regular business correspondence ever since.
Michelle and her parents seem very pleased with the arrangements, and all the future sales to American businesses that Angela has set up here for them.
This association with Michelle's company has also turned out to be very lucrative for Angela. In just a few months, her business has already gotten hundreds of thousands of dollars in revenue from her dealings with Michelle's family, and the expectation is that the major bucks will continue to roll in for some time.Angela and I often reminisce about the fun time we had in Paris, and invariably when we do, we get so excited that we immediately jump into bed and make the most exciting love to each other.
This little adventure in "Swinging" has raised the enjoyment in our sex lives to a new level. Who knows what else we'll be up for in the future?
THE END | null | Chapter One | Authors/Frenchy_Frog/Angela III.txt |
119,254 | Midnightgun | The Shower | You have had a long, bad day at work. Driving home, you get stuck in a traffic jam. "ARRRGGGG!" You scream, "WILL THIS DAY EVER END?" You feel tense and tired, and can't wait to get home.
Finally pulling in the driveway, you sigh as you get out of the car. Walking in the house, you throw off your coat and kick off your shoes. Heading straight to the bathroom, you groan, "I need a nice long shower."
You remove your clothes quickly, adjust the shower, and quickly walk in. "Ohhhh God," you moan, "That feels soooooo good." You put your hands on the far wall, leaning against it, allowing the warm water to run over your back. Massaging your back, running down, over your ass and down your legs, you feel the droplets falling from your clit. "Mmmmmmmmmm," you groan, "That would feel soooo good too right now." You stay like that, feeling each droplet form and fall.
Without realizing, one hand moves to your breast. Gently touching with your fingertips around the nipple, not touching the nipple itself. You stand up, back to the shower. Your other hand moves over to the other breast, lightly touching around the nipple. You feel yourself getting excited, teasing yourself, not touching the nipples.
Using your fingertips, you move down, under the breasts, down your stomach, your thighs, as far as you can reach without bending down, then back up, lightly, just the tips touching. You feel the shower behind you massaging your back. Mmmmmmmmmm. As your fingers rub upwards, up your thigh, just out of reach of your pussy, so tempting, but you don't. Up farther to your stomach, the underside of your breast, over the swell of them, not touching the nipples, up the top of the breasts, up to your neck and shoulders. You squeeze each shoulder. "Mmmmmm, that feels good," you whisper. Back down, to your breasts, over the swell to just out of reach of your nipples. Mmmmmmmmmm, they look like they are getting hard.
The shower still running down your back, you move your fingers closer, closer, closer to them. Your mouth begins to drop open. You want to so bad. Then, you flip your hand over so the back lightly touches your skin, your fingernails just out of reach of your nipples. Unnnn, you want to so bad. But, you start moving your hand down, lightly scraping with your fingernails over the swell of your breasts, down your stomach, feeling it scraping just by your pussy, so close. You move around it, to just on the inside of your thighs, down farther. Mmmmmmmmmmmm, down as far as you can reach. Feels so good. You bend down to scrape farther, you bend further, scraping, until you bend just a little too far. You feel the shower water hit your pussy forcefully. "Unnnnnnnn," you cry, and move up a little. "Ohh yea," you whisper with a grin, and start scraping harder, going back up, up the inner thighs, around your pussy. You feel it starting to get wet. Mmmmmmmm, you rub just around it, then you start scraping back up over your stomach, up over your breasts. Mmmmmmmm, to your nipples again.
Pausing, your fingers just under the nipples. Mmmmmmmm, you take each nipple between two fingers and squeeze lightly once. "Unnnnnn, God," you cry, "Feels so good." You pause, and squeeze a little again. Mmmmmmmm. Water still flowing down your back, you move a little to the side, allowing the water flow to get closer and closer to your nipples, feeling the water hitting your breasts. "Mmmmmmmm," you whine, as you tease yourself, getting closer and closer to letting the water hit the nipple. Closer, back a little, closer still, and back a little, the water hitting the side of your breasts feels so good. Your mouth opens as you get closer, closer, until "Unnnnn God," you cry, as the water hits the hardened nipple. You do it again, "Unnnnnnn," as the water hits, over and over. A few times you let it hit one nipple, then you turn to the other side, getting closer, closer, unnn God you want to so bad, closer, closer, it hits, "Mmmmmmm, yes," you cry softly, letting it hit over and over. Mmmmmmmmmm.
You turn back to the shower again, still feeling it massage your back. You move your hands up your body to your breasts. You touch them lightly, poking your fingers in the flesh lightly. Mmmmmm, mmmm, getting closer to the nipples. Mmmmmmmm. You pause, then a finger from each hand pushes each nipple in. "Unnnnnnnn God," you cry, and let go slowly. Your hands move just below the breasts, you cup the roundness in each hand and squeeze, just a little. Mmmmmmmmmm. Then you let go, and squeeze a little harder. Mmmmmm, and let go, harder still, squeezing, and let go. You feel yourself squirming as you squeeze them again hard and let go carefully.
Putting your hands over them, you push in, just a little. You feel your nipple pushing in, with the water flowing down your back. You moan, "Mmmmmmmmm." Your hands back out a little, then push in a little further. Mmmmmmmmmmmm, out, then back in harder still. Mmmmmmmmmm, you feel the nipple straining against your palm. Out, and back in hard. Mmmmmmmmm, you are squirming. Then, pushing in hard, you let go fast, and feel the breasts bounce back out to their normal lovely position. "Unnnnnnn," you groan, feeling it.
Rubbing a hand over your breasts, you move a hand down to your pussy. You are wet, you can feel it starting to run a little down your leg, mixing with the water from behind you. You trace the outer lips of your pussy. Mmmmmmmmm, nearing your clit. You get closer to it, closer. Mmmmmmmmmmm, need to touch. You very lightly lift a finger over it. "Ohhhhhhh," you groan, and let your finger hit the clit. Your knees buckle a bit from the incredible pleasure that shot through your body at that moment. "Unnnnn God," you groan, and move to the side, leaning against the wall with your back so you don't fall. You hit your clit again very slightly, and groan. Mmmmmmmmmm.
Raising your leg a little to block the water from getting to your pussy, your hand moves up to your breasts again, joining the other that was protecting your nipples from the water's fury. Mmmmmmmmm, feels so good, that water flowing over your body. You move your hands, cupping your breasts, with fingers on each side of your nipples. You moan, "Mmmmmmmmmm, yea," as you pinch the nipples with your fingers. Then, your hands push up on your breasts lightly, and squeeze. "Unnnnnnnn God," you moan in pleasure. Then, you let them down, stopping your squeezing and pinching. A pause, and you pinch your nipples again, harder this time, as you push up and squeeze harder, then you pinch harder, squeezing harder. You feel your knees buckling. Feels so good. Unnnnnnnn, and you let go. Unnnnnnnn God. Right away you attack them again, pinching and squeezing, pushing. "Unnnnnnnnn, unnnnnnnnn," you are crying out loud. "Unnnnnnnnnn," pinching so hard, squeezing them. "Unnnnnnnnnnnn..." In the incredible pleasure, your leg drops, and without warning, the water hits your pussy, your clit. "Ohhhhhhh fuck," you scream as you jump away from the water, releasing your breasts in the process.
"FUCK!" You scream, "I need a dick now."
"Really," you hear, startling you, from outside the shower. You move the curtain and see, standing naked, hard as a rock, your man, your lover, stroking himself, looking down on his cock. Your pussy so wet, you are licking your lips, you know you need it so bad. You ask, "How long have you been there?"
"Long enough, baby," he says as he approaches you with a grin.
"Ohhhh yea," you moan as you jump out of the shower to his waiting arms.
More to come... :) Midnightgun | null | null | Authors/midnightgun/The Shower - Version 1.txt |
119,559 | Castration Anxiety | You may remember my story, related on Usenet's a.s.s. a few years ago. In short, a girlfriend who lived on a farm playfully inserted me into a castration device and blew me, and just as I came into her mouth, she looked in my eyes and (she later told me) thought I wanted her to pull the lever. Anyway, she did, and my balls dropped into her hand, a metal clip squeezed tight and clamped my sack shut. Although the pain was excruciating, somehow what had happened excited both of us, and while my hormone level lasted, I had the best sex of my life.
Eventually we parted ways, and I began to understand the finality of castration. My body softened and became somewhat feminine looking. My penis had long since shrunk to almost nothing, and the clip and shred of flesh eventually fell off just like a baby's umbilical cord. Years passed, and I remained single because, how do you explain such a thing to a new girlfriend? I tried the gay bars a couple times and even gave a blowjob in a bathroom once, but could never bring myself to open up to anyone. So years passed, and I lived my sex life vicariously (mostly lurking in groups like this).
For what may be obvious reasons, I stayed away from doctors, unable to face the embarrassment of explaining, until I developed an infection I couldn't shake with over-the-counter antibiotics. I gave in and made an appointment. I selected a male doctor because I just could not deal with a woman seeing my shriveled manhood.
The day arrived, and with great trepidation, I registered at the desk. I took a seat and read the usual Reader's Digest from two years ago while I waited.
My name was finally called, and I went with the nurse to an examining room. She gave me a paper gown and asked me to change, and the doctor would be right in. I sighed and changed and sat waiting. I wished I had brought the Reader's Digest in with me.
The door opened, and a woman entered. My heart stopped. She introduced herself as Dr. Hartwell and told me my doctor had been called away on an emergency, and did I mind if she filled in for him?
I stammered out an okay - this woman was beautiful, with long raven red hair, green eyes, and flashing white teeth. Her breasts were large and well-shaped, under her scrubs. A few freckles speckled her cheeks. I was totally confused, totally smitten, and totally humiliated.
She interviewed me on medical history, tsked when I said it had been eight years since I saw a doctor, and finally asked me to sit on the table and lift my gown. I told her there was one more thing I had not mentioned yet - a childhood accident - and I lifted the gown, and she looked at it and she looked at me and she asked, "An accident?" She asked what had happened, and I messed up my "cover" story, and she said if she was to help, I should tell the truth. So I did.
When I was done, she completed her examination, which included more prodding and pulling than I expected, and wrote out a prescription. I picked up my clothes with the vague idea of dressing, and the doctor stopped me - she said I wasn't quite done yet.
She then pushed me back on the table and pressed my back to the paper-covered surface, and she did remove her pants and pull up her scrubs and climbed up onto me and placed her red box on my mouth.
You can imagine my surprise. It had been years since I had been intimate with anyone, and suddenly this beautiful woman was grinding herself on my face. I didn't know what to do. I ate her, of course, I mean, what else was I going to do, but I was completely blown away - I was on automatic. She moved her lovely ass and made me rim her, and she absolutely covered my face with her juices. She finally came and climbed down. She told me if I tried to make a complaint, she would make my condition painfully public. She told me I would be changing to her as my primary care and I'd be seeing her weekly for a while.
I don't even remember leaving, but I found myself at home with an appointment slip for a week away. I couldn't believe my second encounter with a woman was as controlling as my first. I couldn't even decide if I had been a willing partner?
Well, all this transpired five days ago. In two more, I either submit to her again or the people I see every day at work learn my secret.
What to do I have no idea. | null | null | Authors/ritalin/anxiety.txt |
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119,582 | Sandman | (p)Your Erotica | You pull into your driveway and feel your heart pound as you see the familiar car parked there. She has been away a long time, too long. The excitement you feel as you hurry along the sidewalk to the front door is akin to that of a child on Christmas eve: eager anticipation, the surging expectation of need, and desire. She rises from the sofa as you enter, and you stop, the door open behind you, unable to think of anything other than the goddess which stands waiting for you.
She is wearing the black dress, the dress that always drives you mad with desire, for it clings to her perfect form, revealing enough flesh to promise more, hiding, yet, at the same time, flaunting her luxurious soft curves. The dress is long but slit at the leg, and, noticing your gaze, she moves her leg through that slit, revealing to your eye the shapely flesh wrapped in long dark stockings below a delicate garter that promises endless pleasure if it were removed.
Your eyes fall lower and note the high-heeled black shoes. You know she has also worn these just for you, for she hates high-heels with a passion. But you love the height it gives her, the way it arches her feet, the way it shapes her legs and stance. You love the idea of feeling those spikes against your flesh.
Your lips part slightly as you relish the beauty of her face, the luxuriant curls of her long blond hair, the oval shape of her face, the endless sparkling facets of her green eyes. Her cheeks are rosy, partially from the blush she has used, and partially from the flush of standing here in front of you, the flush of seeing the naked lust on your face. She has one finger pressed against her lower lip as if in surprise or, maybe, anticipation at your reaction to seeing her. She lowers her hand slowly as you approach, and she smiles warmly.
You do not speak as you near her; words fail you, and they are unnecessary. Finally, you stand before her, your chest pressing against hers, your face so close to hers you can feel her hot breath and hear the deep quick breaths of her anticipation. She moves her hips forward, pressing against your flesh, making you realize the result of your desire. Until now, the universe was her essence, her being. But as her hips softly move against yours, you feel lust coursing through your own veins.
As you continue to gaze, you meet her longing stare and are once again entranced by her beauty. You lower your head slowly, and she raises hers to meet your lips. You taste her sweet lips briefly and pull back to gaze on her once more. Her eyes soften, an unspoken plea to continue. Your hand takes hers as you lower your head once more. Your eyes close as your fingers weave themselves through hers. You clench your fist as your lips meet again, feeling her lips part and you lightly suck her lower lip, then brush your lip around hers. She shudders at your touch, your contact. Her breathing increases in pace as you feel her breath on your cheek. But with your eyes closed, all that exists is the kiss and her. You explore her mouth tenderly with your tongue, feeling her respond, caressing you in return. She has been drinking wine, it is a sweet spice to her taste, her texture.
You move your free hand to the small of her back and pull her closer to you. She responds by wrapping her arms around you, the palms of her hands roaming freely across your back. The kiss is eternal, consuming, renewing. The touch is exquisite beyond thought, almost beyond feeling. Again, she shudders in your embrace; she wants you, needs you, as badly as you need her. Finally, you pull back and smile down at her. She smiles back, anticipation and need filling her face.
You reach down and sweep her off her feet, and she laughs, the same way she has always laughed when you do everything right, when you do even more than she expected and when she loves you all the more for doing it. You do not feel her weight when she wraps her arms around you and nuzzles her head in your shoulder as you carry her into the bedroom. Your passion bears her weight for you, and that passion is a strong thing indeed.
You set her down gently on the bed, and she sighs, spreading her arms wide and arching her back as she revels in her sensuality. As you sit lightly on the bed, she raises herself up and wraps her arms around you again, pulling you into another deep, lingering, passionate kiss. Her hands move to your chest, pressing against you, clenching softly, and then she moves her hands inside your coat, pushing it off you at the shoulders from the inside.
You oblige by lowering your arms behind you, letting the coat fall to the floor as you feel her hands run along your back. You break away from the kiss and smile at her as she fumbles with your tie; you are amused at the intense concentration and determination on her face as she works the knot free. You fell in love with that look so very long ago; she may not even realize that when she does it, she is even more beautiful. You reach out and lightly grasp the side of her neck behind her ear, pulling her forward into another kiss as she casts away the tie.
You feel a gentle tug on your shirt as she fumbles with the buttons. Your palm quivers in excitement as you feel the soft down at the nape of her neck and the flowing silken hairs on the back of your hand. As she releases the last button, you reach around behind her and fumble for the zipper hidden beneath soft folds of fabric. The cold metal feels foreign in her hot embrace, but you grasp the stud and pull it down as she runs her hot palms over your chest, causing each hair to register a solitary note of pleasure and excitement.
Her hand brushes lightly across your erect nipple, and she knows you well enough to know the effect her finger tracing around its base is having on you. At the farthest point in her circle, where her finger presses down on your nipple, your breath catches as you yield to the unique pleasure; then, just as quickly, it is gone, replaced with the milder sensations of her tracings.
She pulls back and smiles as her zipper reaches the end of its journey. With a graceful movement, she slips off the bed to stand before you, her hands applying light pressure to the top of her dress. Her smile is a bit bashful now, and she looks down, not meeting your gaze. She is beautiful, a perfect single rose, a sunset, but she is always so self-conscious here. Here where she presents herself, her true self, to you.
She pulls away her hand, a simple gesture with profound consequences. You stare in rapturous awe as the dress, in one flowing movement, falls to land at her feet. The curves modestly hidden before are now revealed. Her heaving bosom is a priceless treasure to behold. She stands before you in high-heels, stockings, and a black pair of lingerie panties; your desire, already burning hot, becomes an undeniable, tangible beast.She still does not meet your gaze, standing here like this. She cannot believe how beautiful she is, how the sight of her makes you feel. "You are beautiful beyond words," you say to her in a low voice, each word carrying upon it the full weight and urgency of your desire. And now she meets your probing gaze, her lips pulling into a tight smile, her face saying "thank you" without a single word.
You kick off your shoes quickly, and she watches you with an amused glance as you remove the socks. She always did say that the only thing sillier than a man with an erection was a man taking off his socks before sex. You even chuckle as you remember the quip. As you stand up, the loose shirt around you falls to the floor with the same effortless ease with which she had discarded her dress.
As she climbs back onto the bed, your pants and boxers fall to the floor around your ankles. She lays before you on the bed, watching you, waiting for you. You ease yourself onto the bed, lying on your side beside her, propped up on your elbow to gaze into that angelic face. Her brow furrows slightly in longing and need. As you kiss her sweet red lips once again, you rest your hand lightly upon her breast, pressing ever so delicately with your fingers into the hot fleshy softness, marveling at its yielding fullness. As you kiss, you trace a line slowly, deliberately down her stomach. Her head arches back as you move lower, and you adjust your head to keep the contact with her lips, relishing her aggressive responses to your own advances.
Your fingers meet the subtle line where her flesh ends and the soft delicate lace of her lingerie begins. You press your fingers slightly into her flesh, working them under the delicate fabric, then lifting slightly as you feel her soft pubic hair. Her breath is panting now, ripe with expectation, eager with anticipation. You feel the crease of her outer lips, and trace the line softly with your finger, continuing your journey down her nubile body.
As you dip lower you feel the moisture you expected and run your finger through it, pressing just enough to penetrate the outer lips, ever so briefly, before retreating. As your hand moves away, the signals of her body relay the disappointment that you did not linger longer, did not delve further. But the disappointment is replaced by a whimper as your moistened finger begins to trace around her nipple. The palm of your hand presses against her breast as your fingers clench delicately and release, moving in leisurely circles around the nipple.
When the exquisite kiss ends, you kiss her cheek softly, then her throat as she arches her head. You taste the soft flesh of her chest with your tongue and follow that with a kiss on her breast. You linger a moment with her nipple between your lips, your tongue lightly tracing circles. Moving lower, you alternate between kisses and licks as you trace a line down her abdomen and stomach.
You pull back to regard her pleasingly round hips and the delicate lacy lingerie that hides the object of your desire. As you grasp the fabric, she raises her hips to allow you to pull it free. In seconds it lies on the floor, but seconds are an eternity. As you crawl between her legs, she raises them and spreads them wide; you raise your head and smile at her, a devious and mischievous smile filled with the promise of what you are about to do. She gasps as she sees your expression and a trembling shudder of anticipation washes over her. You have been here before, and she knows you never make promises you can't keep.
Playfully you run your tongue along the crack, from the bottom up, experiencing the taste which is uniquely her own. On your second pass, you press forward, letting the sides of her outer lips press against your tongue. She sighs softly at your touch; it is time. It has been time for far too long already. Gingerly you part her outer lips, exposing the folds hidden within. You run your tongue deliberately along her lips, pausing to play with her inner lips, letting your tongue run around them with a delicate firm pressure.
You know this is driving her wild, and teasing her in the worst possible way. To provide so much stimulation, so close to the areas best able to appreciate -- this is just as excruciatingly arousing to her as your being so intimate with her, without satisfying that lust, is to you. How long has it been since you walked in the door? The door still hanging wide open, long forgotten in your passion. A second? A minute? An hour? A day? A month? A year? A lifetime? Maybe an eternity. All that matters is you and her; time is a concept easily lost in rapture.
You push into her moist red hot vagina with your tongue, rolling it gently, letting the tip play against her throbbing walls. She moans loudly and lets her fingers run through your hair, her hips rising to meet your tongue, as if she could encourage you to go deeper than you already are. But deep will have to wait. You withdraw your tongue and move up slightly.
Her clitoris is an exquisite rose newly emerged from the skin that surrounds it. You flick your tongue against it, a light pressure, at first, that will become harder as her pleasure grows. It is hard to keep up the pace you've set, but she loves it when you go fast; because you love her, because you are incomplete without her, you persist. It is awkward to insert two fingers into her vagina at this time, but you know how very much she enjoys this oral stimulation while you thrust into her with your fingers, taking care to ensure the best possible contact with the roof of her vagina.
She is so very close now; you know her signals. You pull back your tongue and suck her clitoris between your lips, sucking harder, coaxing it further into your mouth, letting your tongue revel in what it can reach, grinding your lips from side to side to give her the best possible sensations. A moment, an eternity later, she is shuddering violently, her hips bucking, her hands pulling your head into her, moaning as she climaxes. It is hard to keep the contact she requires, that she needs, but somehow you manage, somehow you manage to do it right yet again.
She is basking in the afterglow as you crawl over her, the look on her face a mixture of love and gratitude that is profound in its intensity. She wraps her hand around the base of your neck as she pulls you in for a kiss, but just as you know her, she knows your needs as well. The kiss is brief, though passionate, the most intimate thank you she could give without words.
While you are poised above her, she runs her hands across your broad shoulders before moving down and pressing against your chest. One hand lingers there, just above your heart, keeping this contact between you. Her other hand wraps itself around your throbbing cock, so long denied the attention it demands. Tugging lightly, she sends an electric thrill coursing through you. Your breathing stops at that first touch, and then she guides you to her.
Your need is to plunge into her, to ravish her in your lust, to be not gentle or slow. But that need is sated by the slow and playful way she slips your cock through her pussy, letting the engorged head rub against her wet, warm folds. Briefly you penetrate her, enough for you to taste the tight warm hole, enough to feel it wrap itself around you. And then you allow her to guide you out again. This time, when she pulls you back in, she gazes into your eyes with a smile on her slightly parted lips as she removes her hand.
Slowly you push in, allowing the flowing, fluid sensation to pleasure you until your hips meet hers. You pause for a moment, and in that pause she wraps her arms around you. Her hands roam across your back, as she lifts her legs up around your waist so that the tips of her shoes brush lightly across your buttocks. You begin to move in a steady rocking motion, closing your eyes to capture the pure essence of her touch. The feel of her is almost overwhelming, the way her nipples brush across your chest, the way her hands feel at the small of your back, the way her shoes bounce off your buttocks. But, more than anything else, there is the feeling of you inside of her, of you moving inside of her, of the gentle contractions and motions of her around you to your thrusts.
Sometimes you can linger like this forever, but tonight it has been too long, your passion held in check for too long. She feels your quickening pace and drops her arms to clench your buttocks, digging in slightly with her long fingernails. She pulls you when you thrust, her thighs pushing against you as you retreat. You gasp as the first wave of climax begins. For one moment, one eternity, nothing exists but naked pleasure. When that moment ends, you thrust again and are rewarded with a second eternity, wave after wave of unbridled, uncontrollable pleasure, as you release your hot seed inside her quivering hole.
And then it ends, and you laugh twice between gasps, unable to put into words how intense the experience has been. How completely perfect. She smiles warmly, for she knows. You linger within her for a moment, unwilling to give up this most intimate contact, though your once-stiff member shrinks rapidly inside her. When you roll off to the side, you lightly stroke her sweat-beaded skin, as you begin telling her all the reasons you fell in love with her and all the reasons you still love her today. | null | null | Authors/BitBard/PYour_Erotica.txt |
119,832 | Mr.Ocontrol | Becoming His | You have just celebrated your 18th birthday, and now you see it, lying on the kitchen table - the letter you have been hoping for. An invitation of sorts. During the school year, you met and befriended a foreign exchange student. You have been enamored by his stories of home, the gold inlay floors, the tapestries, the beauty of his country. Never having traveled, as your family just didn't have the income for that, you have wondered and dreamed of other places. Now you just got the chance - your chance to see for yourself the world, other places, things the Discovery Channel has been showing you for some time.
Now you're holding a round-trip, first-class ticket, a voucher actually. You are to be flown on a private jet, just you and your friend, to spend the summer working for his family. You have been given the honor of helping their secretary with advertising selections, advertisements for their resort, golf, and vacation timeshares. They have a beautiful oasis in the desert, a one-of-a-kind, fully catered, pampering vacation spot. Everyone keeps asking, "Why? Why choose someone so young, so inexperienced for a job such as this?" They would like to make this an attractive spot, not just for the elderly visitors, but to attract the young as well.
Preparations begin. There are many preparations that need to be made. First, you need a passport, a complete physical, as well as a few inoculations. Not a big deal. With those few details finally out of the way, you quickly get everything else ready. After packing and saying goodbye to your family, you arrive at the airport. Bypassing customs, you are instead taken to a secluded spot on the tarmac, where a large, unmarked plane is waiting. Climbing the steps, excited and surprised by all the opulence, you realize this is it - the chance of a lifetime, the possibilities are endless. On the flight, they serve foods you're not accustomed to, such as caviar, cheese, and even wine. You have always been a good girl, never having more than a sip of alcohol, and now the wine quickly begins working its magic...Lovingly, lifting your veil, I kiss your lips, then gently, I take your arms behind your back, hooking them, leaving you helpless once again. Tonight, I continue, they'll bring you in, you must kneel, remain silent, wait till I stand, help you up, then I will lead you to our table. With your wrists still bound, after I help you sit, the feast will begin. Remember, you must remain silent, you must not speak, just sit quietly, eyes down, waiting patiently. Dinner will be served, I'll help you eat, give you drink. As we finish, I will stand, help you up, and together we'll leave. Tonight, leaving the hall, servants, female servants, they will follow, watching, assuring, our customs are followed. I'll lead you to my chambers, remain silent, again you must not talk, just follow.
Once we arrive, they begin, taking you, preparing you, you must go, do as they say, remain silent, don't question. It happens, just as he's said, you follow, doing as you're told, again you're scared, very nervous. The bath, they lead you in, remove your clothes, unhooking your wrists, again you're bathed, perfumed, prepared. Finished, fresh, clean, they once more begin leading, but taking you where, somewhere different.
This room, strange, in the center, a table of sorts, guiding you over, helping you up, they make you lie back, once more hooking your wrists, your legs, leaving you helpless, uncovered. Watching, you notice, standing in the corner, I'm watching as they continue, what are they doing, warm, shocking, you're beginning to realize what's about to happen. The women begin spreading shaving cream around your vulva as I approach, again explaining, telling you more, kissing your face, touching, exciting you. It's required, you must be relieved of your covering, this final vestige of privacy must be removed, you are to be laid bare before my eyes, nothing must ever be hidden.
As I watch, your full exposure is complete, the last of your concealment has been removed, you flush as even your hidden places are revealed, open to my eyes. I begin, moving down, kissing, tasting your skin, your neck, exploring your breasts, touching, stroking. As your excitement builds, I continue on, lower, you're panting, scared, unsure, this is all so new, so different, not like anything you've experienced. Exploring you softly, carefully with my lips, I continue down to your flower, a virgin, you have never before been touched like this. Scared, ashamed, and now you're being exposed in ways you never thought possible, but it's our custom, it's required.
Carefully, I gently draw back your labia, looking at you, into you, you want to cry, and now, the others approach, looking at you, you feel sick, feeling violated you wonder, what are they doing. The servants approach, verifying, they must be shown, see the proof, see you are pure, untouched, still fully intact. Flushed, exposed, they see, your most intimate parts, after they look, it's verified, we continue.
The kiss, my lips, barely touching, moist, your moist, sensitive, don't know what to expect. Nightly, for one month this takes place. Nightly, you're examined, teased, brought to the most unbelievable pleasure, you never imagined it could feel like this, your orgasm, driven by my tongue, your helplessness, you never imagined it could be like this. Nightly you cum, continuing, until you beg, until you can't take any more, we continue, together, enjoying your orgasms together.
For now, I wait, for this month, as your pleasure is realized, many times, over and over you're brought relief, for this month I must suffer. It's our custom, you may cum, must orgasm, many times, however I cannot. After our wedding it will be different, but for now, for now I'm not allowed relief. I must endure, be satisfied by your release, your ecstasy, your orgasm. Once we marry, after our wedding night things will change, that night, the night we wed, for that one night, together, we may share the experience, share the pleasure, we shall both be allowed orgasm. For that one solitary night we may together experience bliss, together we may cum, time and time again. Once morning breaks, once the new day begins, my love, you my darling wife, you shall be denied.
After one full month, a month of many pleasures, of you feeling your orgasm crash upon you time and again, once we are married, you must give that up, must give your pleasure, your orgasm, as your gift. That will be your sign, the sign of your surrender, of your love. Your orgasm, your pleasure, your need, that's to be your gift to me. In the morning, things will change, again customs must be followed, after our wedding night, for a period of one full year, you must face denial, you're not allowed to cum, your orgasm must be withheld, denied. Failure, the consequences of failure are unspeakable, they would be forever changing, my darling, my precious love, therefore you must not fail. Your most tender bits, your womanhood, if you fail, your pleasure would be taken, never again would you be able to cum, never again would you feel the same, your flower would be changed, forever altered.
Our wedding day, finally our day has arrived, it's morning, everyone scurrying, movement, excitement everywhere. This morning, you are woken, you are bathed, this morning, clothing is denied, confused, scared, you wonder, there's something different, something unexpected. Bound, you are escorted to a table, your wrists, your ankles, your knees, all are bound, a strap across your waist secures you in place. Fearful, crying, mind racing, asking what's happening, but no one answers, forced to wait, wondering, what's next. You remember something about adornment, something about purity, but still confused, naked, secured to this table, totally helpless and exposed, you are made to wait. Begging with your eyes, wanting to know what's next, you remember my command, remember to remain silent. I approach, seeing your eyes begging, wondering, but remaining silently obedient. Gently, softly, kissing you, stroking your hair, looking into your eyes, leaning down, I whisper, I begin to explain. Preparations, your being prepared, your body made ready, I must help, must take part, there may be some discomfort, but you must relax, pleasure will follow.
Shields, nipple shields, beautifully fashioned around a special porous ceramic center, these golden shields, they are to become a part of you, once in place, they cannot be removed. These shields signify you as my first wife, to be obeyed, your commands must be followed, servants, concubines, even other wives, must all submit to your desires, your will, your orders. Arching your back, the sensations thrilling, knowing how sensitive you can be, I begin kissing around your breasts enjoying your reaction, your building passion as I take your nipple into my mouth, each in turn, expanding, swelling, enlarging. As your nipple expands, extends fully, becomes wonderfully erect, reaching painfully up, stretching, I place the shield.
Carefully, working gently, again sucking, guiding your nipple into place, seating the shield, holding it in place, leaning over, obscuring your view, kissing you deeply, I continue holding you, swallowing your scream as the shield is glued in place. Unseen, one of the slave girls places a special cylinder over your nipple, secured to the shield, glue is forced into the ceramic center as your nipple is drawn up, away from your body, into the device, swelling, aching, a sensation of heat, uncomfortable, for the next five minutes you're forced to endure, feeling as though the very base of your nipple is being tightly squeezed, aching, time seems to slow, sweating you want to beg, want it to stop, but unable to pull away you're forced to endure. Repeating the procedure, your other nipple is prepared, the other shield installed, your nipples hurt, swelling, growing larger, your nipples are throbbing, painfully hard, wonderfully erect.
Lower, my head travels lower, down your body, between your thighs. Kissing, again teasing, now sucking your clit, as your excitement builds, this eases your pain, increases your pleasure. Gently I continue, causing you to swoon, helping the hurt, comforting you, your passion building, your excitement climbing. Licking, sucking, your clitoris, it engorges, continues to grow, continues swelling, pleasure, such sweet pleasure, then you freeze, holding your breath, this time you see what's happening.
Slowly, carefully, a ring, a little gold ring, a cylinder really, is placed over your clitoris. Twisting, working it down, under the hood, the suction device, again contacting your body, this time against your clit, beginning to ache, it's pulling your clit, forcing it into, through this cylinder, the inside a bit rough, scraping your sensitive gland, covered in gold, the ceramic is rough against your most tender spot. Lifting, straining, trying to get away from the pain, your clitoris hurts, it's swelling, its shaft stretching, pulling, trying to retract, trying to pull back, but no. Tears welling up, I begin kissing you, swallowing your screams as your clit scrapes against this awful thing. Once in place, a special bio-adhesive is forced around your clit to keep things in place. Designed for use by the U.S. military to provide a quick solution for bonding skin or internal bodily structures, it has been adapted slightly for our special use. This bio-adhesive is a butyl-2-cyanoacrylate combined with mussel-derived polyphenolic protein and catechol oxidase enzymes. This bio-glue combination when added to a porous ceramic surface not only successfully glues the item in question to human skin, but encourages the body to quickly form a fully permanent bond by integrating into the ceramic surface.Basically, within a few days, the attached ceramic becomes completely irremovable, it's permanent. Continuing to kiss you as you're sobbing in pain, I softly stroke your hair, telling you the worst is over, the ache, the sting, the hurting will soon subside.
Kissing away your tears, after what seems like an eternity, the suction device is finally released, the glue now in place, your clitoral shaft surrounded, unable to ever again retract. Standing, erect, swollen, collared, literally sheathed in gold, your clitoris will forever be seen, never again will it be able to hide, to retract. Slowly, very slowly you relax, slowly you come to terms, to realize, these adornments, these are symbols, marks of love, of loyalty, the adornments of a queen.
Releasing you from your bonds, the straps are finally removed, as the preparations continue you fully notice your dress, although exquisitely beautiful, it's totally revealing. The dress was designed, fitted perfectly to you, enhancing your charms, the shields, now you see, you notice, how the dress is designed to draw attention, to expose you to all, to show you off, to announce your place in society. Everything about this outfit is designed for maximum exposure, from the way it presents your nipples, shielded in gold, to the way it enhances your femininity, the glint of gold, pink, tender, your cleft, your shaven pussy, your clitoris, all is visible.
The ring, that golden ring, constricting, exposing, enlarging your clit, pushing it forward out of its covering, its hiding place, so everyone will see. Staring in utter disbelief, your reflection, the mirror, feeling faint, beautiful yes, but you never imagined this. Steeling yourself, resigned to this fate, the realization you cannot back out, head lowered, you approach, taking my hand, telling me you're ready.
Your wedding, our wedding is ever so beautiful, blushing, flushed, you're escorted out, through the crowds, everyone staring, looking at you, at your charms, your beauty. Then, as you approach, you see them, your parents, you can't turn back, cannot hide, standing, watching, witnessing everything, feeling faint, flushed, you hold tighter. The Ceremony continues, Soon, your vows are said, wedding rings in place, your veil is lifted, you are kissed, so very exposed, in front of everyone, finally you are pronounced husband and wife. Everything you ever wished for, different than anything you could have dreamed.
You're now a wife, a queen, and tonight you become a woman. This very night as you became a woman there was some pain, and much pleasure. Different, but unknown, somehow you know it was different, not like anyone else would experience. Lovely, yes very lovely, very beautiful, but you, you'll never know, with the ring installed, your clit, your nipples, surrounded, constricted, different from before, you'll never know anything different. While he's making love to you, your clit, it's stimulated relentlessly, unable to retract, you cum almost continuously. The pleasure, you cannot describe the pleasure, never could you believe anything could be like this. So full, the sensations inside your body, your nipples, screaming for release, for attention, hard as diamonds, aching with pleasure. You never want this night to end. He fills you, time and time again, squirting inside, your orgasm racking you with pleasure. It's too much, at one point, somewhere, darkness, you black out with pleasure.
Together, arms holding you tight, morning is about to break, you wake, begging, realizing, longing, please, just once more, again, you begin, again you're in heaven, again, you're ready to explode.
"NO, YOU CANNOT CUM" your pleasure screaming for release, clawing from within, trying to burst forth, and no, you're forced to hold it back.
Begging, crying, holding the headboard, straining, you receive his pleasure once again, you feel the swelling, the pulsing, the injection of his semen, hitting your cervix once more coating your core. His pleasure this morning, like never before, seeing his face, feeling him within, surging, releasing inside your body, you begin to cry. You have been made to cum every morning, multiple times daily, after lunch, after dinner, before bed, become addicted to your orgasm, and now you must not, you must only receive, now your pleasure must be shared, given, you must learn to partake of his pleasure, of his rapture, as your denial increases so will his pleasure, his ecstasy.
Slowly, ever so slowly, smiling at you, kissing your lips, continuing to move, to thrust, again, he's getting harder. Somehow, your denial excites him, encourages him, makes him strong, hungry for more. Your willingness to submit, your body, your need, driving him on, driving you mad, insane with need you ache. Remembering your instructions, spreading yourself, controlling your breathing, relaxing, denying your clench, you force your body to remain fully open, giving yourself, your womanhood, your excruciating need to cum. All of this, total concentration, you feel it, the pleasure, the sensations, so wonderful, but to endure you must lay open before him, now you're beginning to realize what it's like, your pleasure is his, your desire, your need, your satisfaction; your ultimate gift as his wife.
Day one had begun, sobbing with need, wracked with desire, begging, pleading with him, please help me through this, help me not to cum, please, please don't make me cum. With that, smiling down at you, kissing, whispering how very much he loves you, he kisses you deeply, again swallowing your screams, holding you, caring for you, once more placing his seed within you, using your body for his pleasure, you begin your life as his. This next year, you realize this next year will be the most difficult of your life, this next year, you now know this will be a wonderfully agonizingly beautiful year. | null | null | Authors/O-control/Female Orgasm Denial/BecomingHis.txt |
120,564 | null | null | Year Month Age Story Event
==============================================================
1966 07 00 born :-)
1967 07 01
1968 07 02
1969 03 02 sister born
1969 07 03
1970 07 04
1970 08 04 kindergarten 1
1971 07 05
1971 08 05 kg2
1972 07 06
1972 08 06 primary education 1
1973 07 07
1973 08 07 pe2; brother born
1974 07 08
1974 08 08 pe3
1975 07 09
1975 08 09 pe4
1976 07 10
1976 08 10 pe5
1977 07 11
1977 08 11 pe6
1978 06 11 pe6 ended
1978 07 12
1978 08 12 secondary education 1
1978 11 12 wet dreams & masturbation
1978 12 12 discovered porn (txt) in parents' drawers
1979 06 13
1979 08 13 se2
1980 06 13 playing doctor with sis
1980 07 14 Y playing doctor with cousin
1980 08 14 Y sailing camp - first gay (b+)
1980 08 14 se3
1981 07 15
1981 08 15 se4
1981 11 15 Y tutoring/relation Ria - first hetero (bg)
1982 05 15 tutoring/relation Ria ended
1982 07 16
1982 08 16 Y older Spanish woman
1982 08 16 se5
1983 05 16 Y party (orgy, gangbang, impregnate)
1983 06 16 end of se5
1983 06 16 Y 3some (jun) - 1st mmf-threesome + incest
1983 07 17
1983 08 17 y Cat, Tim and Tom gangbang
1983 08 17 se6
1984 06 17 se6 ended
1984 07 18
1984 08 18 university 1 started; relation with Pascale started
1984 08 18 P Kees (swimmer) in shower after training (semi public)
1984 11 18 y Robby (13, brother from Kees) in nov (mb)
1984 12 18 Pascale at parents (mf)
1985 05 18 Y 2 guys on one day/hour
1985 07 19
1985 08 19 ue2
1985 12 19 P xmas-student (interracial gay)
1986 02 19 relation with Pascal ends
1986 06 19 ue2 ended
1986 06 19 y Preggo fuck
1986 07 20
1986 08 20 technical college 1 started
1986 09 20 relation Elsa started
1987 07 21
1987 08 21 tc2
1988 07 22
1988 08 22 tc3
1988 09 22 relation Elsa ends
1989 03 22 y double date (MF, anal, voyeur)
1989 05 22 Y one time stand with intern counselor Chrissy
1989 07 23
1989 08 23 tc4
1990 07 24
1990 08 24 tc5
1991 03 24 blowjob mechanic (semi public, Julien sees)
1991 05 24 tc5 ended
1991 05 24 y vacation with Julien ('blackmail', sugardad)
1991 06 24 vacation with Julien ('blackmail', sugardad)
1991 07 25
1992 04 25 work started
1992 07 26
1993 07 27
1994 07 28
1995 07 29
1996 07 30
1997 07 31
1998 07 32
1999 07 33
2000 06 33 Y suck and fuck with neighbor J.
2000 07 34
2000 11 34 y youth player from badminton (Hans)
2001 07 35
2001 12 35 ICQ contact meeting Sandra anal
2002 07 36
2003 07 37
2004 07 38
2004 09 38 Wedding night
2005 06 38 Y Businesstrip to Brno (Tatjana)
2005 07 39
2006 04 39 Intern Patty (blowjob)
2006 07 40
2007 07 41
2008 07 42
2009 07 43
2009 09 43 Y 69 with Fred (mm, oral)
2010 07 44
2010 11 44 Y jacked of by Carlos (mm, handjob) | null | null | Authors/Fun_Play_Cam/drafts/my_life/0000-00-timeline.txt |
120,980 | null | Role Reversal | You told me that you would never touch me. You reduced us to this. When we first met, I thought you were sweet. You were so beautiful. I thought you were the kind of man I had always waited for. With your usual insight, you looked me over and saw the victim inside of me. I suppose that you had it all planned from that first day we met in the mall. Maybe you've done this before. It wouldn't surprise me.
You convinced me to let you move into my apartment. I was so eager to have you there. I wanted to share my space with you. I wanted to share my self and my body with you. After the first few nights, I began to realize what a mistake I had made. It wasn't the women, the strangers you brought home to fuck in your room. The loud groans and rhythmic shifting of the bed humiliated me as I lay in the darkness of my own room. I could have found a way to accept your other lovers. If you would only have made me one of them.
It amazes me now to realize how quickly, how unconsciously I submitted to you. I washed your clothes, I cooked for you, anything for the reward of your smile. An offhand comment about my hair or clothes was enough to send me scurrying to find a look that would please you. Still, you refused to touch me. Even by accident. If my hip brushed against you as we both sat on the couch watching TV, you pulled away. And yet, somehow, you managed to make me feel there was a chance of something happening between us.
I recall the first time I saw your body. I was sitting in the living room. We were talking as you undressed in your bedroom. There was a mirror, whose reflection I could see through the angle of the doorway. I watched you as you took off your shirt, revealing the smooth, sleek lines of your chest. I recall my breath catching in my throat as you slipped off your shorts. I blushed, and continued to watch as the tuft of blond hair at the top of your sex was revealed. If there was any part of me that had not fallen by that point, it was swept away, watching every part of you revealed to me.
Of course, that was typical of our relationship. Funny, isn't it, that such an intimate unveiling should happen only through a reflection on cold, silvered glass. Now, I know that it was no accident. Like everything else you did, the positioning of the mirror was deliberate, set for its effect on me.
It was a longing for revenge that made me start picking up men on the street. I wanted to show you that even if you didn't want me, there were others that did.
I gave myself over to anyone willing to take me. Always picturing your face, always imagining your hands in place of theirs. Imagining that you were listening in the dark as I tried to take pleasure from those others.
Sometimes, at night, I would creep out of bed and make my way to the outside of your door. I would put my ear to the painted wood and listen, straining to hear your breathing as I masturbated myself. I never tried to be quiet. I wanted you to hear me, always hoping that the door would open, and you would finally invite me inside. I realize now that you were listening all along. I'm sure it amused you to know how pathetic you had made me. You wanted to keep me wanting you. It must have been easy for you, having me on a string. Were you saving me for a rainy day?
Unlike you, I hadn't planned for what happened. There was, at first, nothing deliberate in what I did. In fact, it really wasn't like me at all. Ask anyone. It was your fault really, things could have been different. If when you came home, and found me crying with frustration, you had only let me hold you. I couldn't help myself, I needed to touch you at last. When you pushed me away again, something closed up, reversed itself inside of me. I remember hitting you, not flailing at you, but a real, solid punch with weeks of disappointment behind it. Knocking you to the floor, stunning you for a few crucial moments.
It would be hard to say which one of us was more surprised. As it happened, I recovered first. I don't know why I chose to bind your hands with my pantyhose. It seemed appropriate, using that intimate fabric, still warm with my body heat. You tried to stand then, but the position of your arms made you clumsy. It was easy to push you back onto the floor. I sat on your chest. I slid myself forward, pressing down onto your shoulders, my skirt riding up over my hips. As I ground myself against you, you struggled, but I was stronger than you knew, stronger it seems, than I knew. All of it was so insane, but I didn't care. I was going to rape you if I could.
All that I wanted was your touch. Having you helpless beneath me, feeling the sparse, rough hairs of your chest tickling the inside of my thighs was heaven. There was nothing else I could have done. My need drove me.
You were yelling, I remember that. Using words I'm sure were always on the tip of your tongue.
Bitch.
Whore.
It was so easy, so pleasurable to silence you by sitting on your face. Every movement, every protesting tremor of your jaw rippled through my sex. Your chin nestled between my buttocks. Your lips, wet with saliva, then my discharge as I came. You could have bitten me. What would have happened if you had? I kept your head trapped there, savoring the warmth of your breath. Each exhalation like a liquid volcano, searing me through the cleft of my mound, teasing the hairs below my stomach.
Maybe it was that unexpected heat. Like putting your hand into a bowl of warm water. Only a slight relaxation was necessary, and I was pissing onto your face. You choked, tried to spit, and finally could do nothing but swallow. The position was awkward for you. To your credit, you realized that the best thing to do was to clamp your mouth over my pussy and accept what you had coming to you. I never said you weren't smart.
Too soon, too soon, it was finished. I could have let you go. Instead, I pressed down onto your mouth, and put my hand over your nose. I waited long enough to be sure you were unconscious, then got up. I put you into my bed, tying you to the frame with sheets stripped and shredded. From then on, there would be no other women to share you with. Over time, I think you've come to accept your new place in my life. The wedding ring I picked out looks good on your hand. I only wear mine at home. I still cook for you and try to be a good wife. Better, perhaps, than you deserve. | null | null | Authors/myfirststories/Role reversal.txt |
120,985 | null | In the Bar | You come in to the bar behind me, not looking up. As we pass the long gauntlet of guys at the bar, you glance up furtively, even though you've been instructed not to make eye contact, but then quickly lower your gaze when you notice one or two looking at your basket or ass. You're in ripped jeans, so artfully ripped that there's more skin exposed than covered, especially across your tight white butt. The black hanky tucked into your right jean pocket does a better job of covering skin than the denim. A leather band around your right wrist is carved with my name. Your T-shirt is just as shredded under your leather vest, revealing the ring in your nipple, and your hard-on is clearly visible in your jeans.
The hard-on is there largely because I've strapped you into a gates-of-hell before we left the house - three rings around your cock, and straps that encircle your nuts, making your scrotum hard and tight. The scrotal straps are lined with small points, just sharp enough to dig in when you move. Your thoughts alternated between lust and terror all the way here on the bike, and each thought of lust made you a little harder, and the strap around your cock kept you that way. I'd also jammed a medium-sized buttplug into your ass after putting the gates on you, and then lifted your jeans and neatly zipped you in, grinning at you. "This ought to make the bike ride more interesting," I said.
So here we are. I settle onto a stool, order seltzer - you know I don't drink - and motion you to sit, but you shake your head, blushing, as the plug is still vibrating in your ass. "Sit down," I order you.
"Please, sir, no," you say, not wanting to struggle awkwardly onto the barstool. This attracts the attention of the men next to us, and they make a few jeering comments about disobedient boys and whether or not your ass is too sore to sit on. I freeze them with first a glare and then an evil grin.
"Actually," I say in an offhand way, "the boy hasn't been beaten for a week. I've been so busy. I'm sure he's craving it by now. Is that why you're disobeying me, boy? To piss me off so I'll beat the snot out of you?"
"No, sir," you retort, stung. "I-" I'd never do that, you almost say, and then see the glint of humor in my eye and lower your head.
"Maybe you'd like to show the nice men why you don't want to sit down?" I ask, my voice first silk and then hardening into steel. "Pull down your pants and turn around."
You hesitate - you figured we'd hang around enough for you to feel safer before I start asking you to expose yourself - but then, accustomed to obedience, you do it, unzipping your jeans. Your cock springs out, stiff and trapped in rings of metal and leather. You know better than to touch it in front of me. Then, slowly, you turn around.
"Bend over and spread your ass cheeks," I tell you, casually. You do it, showing off the black rubber end of the plug buried in your ass. There are noises, chuckles and comments, from the men. One of them asks about getting a piece later and I answer noncommittally, directing their attention to your piercings and nice quadricep musculature. You're still in position, cheeks spread, cock hard with the heat of the eyes on you. One man walks around you like he would a prize horse, and then asks to see your nipple ring. I yank you up by the hair like I would an inanimate object - you know to keep your hands clutching your ass - and show him, pouring a little cold seltzer over your dick to make you squirm. It's freezing, and you cry out, but the blood supply can't escape. I retreat to my barstool.
"All right," I say. "You don't have to sit on the stool. Pull up a piece of floor." I motion to the not-very-clean tile at my feet. You look at it, decide it's the better alternative, and lower yourself, gasping when your bare ass hits cold floor. You curl up there, jeans down around your knees, leaning against the barstool and my boot. I chat with the men around us, and at some point hand you down a beer, stroking your cropped head like I would a pet.
More men gather; you're looking through a forest of boots. Combat boots, engineer boots, shiny and gleaming or crusted with the road. The men around you block out the light; they glance down at you, but otherwise ignore you. I negotiate with them, using offhand jargon you hardly understand, and then I reach a decision and rise, dislodging you. I snap my fingers and you're on your feet. "Pull up your pants and come," I order, and you do.
We go into the back of the bar, to a darkened booth. The men form a circle around and behind you; you can smell sweat and leather and feel their breath on your back. You glance at me, in front of you, meeting my eyes with apprehension your spine feels and your cock does not. It's almost painfully hard. "Strip," I tell you.
You do, shucking the boots and tattered jeans and T-shirt. The vest you fold carefully, hand to me. The floor is cold under your bare feet, and you shiver a little. "Get down," I say, with a flick of my hand, and you drop to hands and knees on the tile, ass in the air like I like you to be. Like you like to be. I walk behind you and prod at your taut ballsack with my boot, and you gasp and bite your lip as I hit the tiny spikes in it. "I've been telling these nice men all sorts of good things about you," I say, my voice dripping with evil. "I've been telling them that you're an excellent cocksucker, and that you can take more pain than any of their boys. I've told them that you love to be fucked. They have their doubts. Are you going to prove it to them, or make a liar out of me?" My boot digs into your balls again, and you shudder, gritting your teeth.
"I will - I mean I do, sir," you stammer.
"You do what?" I ask, amused at your confusion.
"I - I love to be fucked, sir. And I love to suck cock, and I'll suck anyone's cock that you tell me to," you force out. My boot is still pressing into the spiked straps, so you press back into it just to make a point. "And I can - uh! - take more pain than anyone, sir," you say through gritted teeth.
One of the men laughs, unpleasantly. "Boy's a bit too proud of himself, there. Maybe he needs to be taken down a peg." They circle around you; you're aware of all of them like a pack of wolves focusing on prey. You've made me hard; my cock is straining against my pants, so I unzip and pull it out.
"You can start now," I tell you. Taking your head by the hair, I jerk it up and shove myself into your automatically-opening mouth, thrusting down your throat until my balls slap against your chin. I fuck your face roughly, watching tears run down your cheeks as you try to keep your throat open. Not wanting to come yet, I pull out after a minute and sit in the booth, dragging you under the table by your hair. It's dark under there, dark and dusty, and you can't see anything, but you feel my hands on your body, positioning you. "Turn around," I tell you, and you get your rump between my knees. I pull out the buttplug and slide in my cock.
Your ass is warm and tight, and I yank you back and forth in the dim light, enjoying the feel of your wet and clinging insides on my cock. I motion to another man to sit opposite me and he does, taking your chin in his hand and guiding your mouth to his dick. We get a rhythm going, shoving you back and forth on our cocks, pinned between them. He comes abruptly, shooting come down your throat which you swallow, well-trained, and slides out, to be immediately replaced by another man who picks up where he leaves off. A moment later I come in your ass and then pull out; you feel me moving away but can't turn your head to plead with the large cock thrusting down it. Someone else's knees slide in past your rump and a new cock is forced into your ass, so fast that my come doesn't have time to leak out.
You lose count of the cocks after a while, down on all fours in the darkness under the table. The world is reduced to the scratch of pubic hair and the taste of come, the friction of dicks in your holes. Then, just as you are sure your jaw is going to crack, both men finish at once and I haul you out from under the table, dusty and whimpering. I bend you over and slam you down on it, shoving the buttplug back into your ass to keep you open and seal in the come of half a dozen men. I spread your legs with the toe of my boot, grabbing your still-hard cock. I know you can't come without something touching it, and I know you're in agony from the tension, but I only give you a few light, teasing strokes. You moan and cry out, clenching your fists and beating them on the tabletop. We all laugh at your predicament, and then you hear the click of a cliplink as I unhook my whip.
"Are you ready to get hurt, boy?" I say, running the braid through my fingers. I didn't bring a cat, you know that. It's the signal whip, the four-foot single-tail with the bloodstains on it; I've been carrying it coiled up on my belt. I make a loop with it and slap it against my boot, waiting.
"Yes, sir," you choke out. "Please beat me, sir!" You're ready, as I knew you would be. You're trembling from wanting it.
"I don't have to tie you up, do I?" I ask you. "You'll stay right there where you're told, won't you?" You nod, several times, quickly."I say, and the circle of men back away, out of your line of vision. Suddenly it's just you and me again, you and me and the whip. I crack it experimentally in the air, and you flinch. I laugh, and you flinch again. Then, just when you're wondering if something is wrong, I let fly.
Crack! A white-hot line of pain sizzles across your ass, and you scream. There is total silence in the bar, and you realize belatedly that everyone must be watching you. Then the next stroke hits you, and you scream again. There's no warm-up this time, no working you up with strokes of the cat, just lightning strikes of pain that come too close together for you to take a breath. You run out of breath, somewhere along the line, and you can't even scream, just gasp over and over as the whip marks your back and ass. Then, as quickly as it started, it is over, and you realize you are hugging the table, panting.
I move closer, lean over you to hold you for a moment until your breathing slows, and then I shove you back under the table again. You barely know what hit you before another cock is shoved into your mouth. A hand removes your buttplug again, and a cock fills your ass once more, and the parade resumes. The beating was only an intermission. This time, several of the cocks are fresh from your own ass. You can't swallow fast enough to take their come, and by the time I drag you out from under the table again, you're dribbling and smeared with it.
You're slammed down on the table again, your black-and-blue and dripping ass shown off to the entire bar, and I judge you're loose and sloppy enough to work with. I pull a rubber glove out of my pocket and snap it onto my hand, and then begin to work it into your ass. Rivulets of come leak out around my hand as I get all four fingers into you on the first try, then my thumb a moment later. I stretch your asshole out even more, feeling you contract around my hand as my knuckles pass the sphincter, hearing you cry out weakly, thrusting your hips vainly forward. I pull out, twist my hand, and get my folded knuckles into your hole, and before you can cry out again, my fist is in you and you're impaled on my arm. You're writhing on it now, moaning, your cock nearly purple with blood.
I begin to fuck you slowly with my left hand, but my right is fumbling in my pocket for something else. I pull out my knife and it clicks open; you hear it, and go completely still, which is an effort since I'm still slamming into your ass. You bite down into your own wrist as I lay the knife to your back and start to cut. The design is a spiral, done curve by curve, marking over the scars of older, half-healed cuttings. Blood begins to trickle down your sides, smearing on the tabletop. I lean forward, my hand still jammed in your ass, and lick it up as it spills, the metallic taste sharp on my tongue. There is respectful silence behind us as I feast.
Then I slowly pull my fist out and peel off the glove. You're gasping, sobbing, I can taste your pain like sweet sourness. I hold out the knife to you and you kiss the blade, and I put it away. Then I reposition you, manhandling you into place, on your back on the table with your head off the edge facing me, cuffing your hands behind you so they rest beneath you. I motion to one of the guys, who climbs up on the seat with a length of chain, hanging it from one of the ubiquitous eyebolts in the place. Then I attach the other end of the chain to your gates-of-hell harness; the chain's not quite long enough, so you have to arch your hips up. Your pelvis is held off the ground by the straps around your cock and balls, and they bounce, tight and distended, as your asshole drips onto the table.
I've gotten very hard from cutting you and drinking your blood, and I want some pressure on my cock again, so I force it into your mouth. At the angle your head is hanging off the table, I can fuck your throat until my balls slap against your face, cutting your windpipe off with each stroke. "You just keep sucking that cock," I tell you. "Don't bite down, no matter what happens." Then I borrow a small plastic cat with evil sharp strands from another guy and start to beat the hell out of your cock and ballsack while I'm fucking your face. You scream around my cock and choke, but I don't let up. Red welts form on them, red and then vicious purple. I move to your chest and whip your nipples, then back to your crotch. You writhe, bent in a painful arch, unable to move far or get enough breath to scream again, feet sliding on the wet, smeared tabletop. When I come, I shove my cock as far as it will go down your throat, feeling you clench convulsively around me.
I pull out and you gasp for breath, and I undo the chain, flipping you over. I'm flushed and gasping myself, but still able to manhandle you. "Look at that mess you made!" I tell you sharply, shoving your face in the puddle of come on the tabletop. "Lick it up!" You do, sobbing, and then you are pulled off the table and flung to the floor. I undo your cuffs and you fall forward, whimpering.
"You want to come, don't you, boy?" It's a rhetorical question; your cock must be agony, bruised and welted and still hard. "Do it, then. Come on the floor, and then lick it up like a good puppy. This is the only chance you get. If you don't come now, you wear that thing for another week with no coming allowed." You know I mean it, and you start jerking off like the end of the world was coming. It only takes you about a minute, and then you dutifully clean your come off the floor with your tongue.
Then I haul you to your feet and send you off to the bathroom to wash the buttplug and yourself. I know damn well that there are more guys in there, and that sending a naked come-covered boy in alone is tantamount to throwing bait to a school of sharks. I'll wait a few minutes, I think, and then come watch the show." | null | null | Authors/Raven_Kaldera/In_the_Bar.txt |
121,038 | null | The Best Time | You come into my apartment in a semi-tight t-shirt and shorts that show off the bottom 2 inches of your buttocks. As I open the door, your arms open wide and you step in and quickly envelope me into your warm, tender embrace. You look at me with your deep sapphire blue eyes and tell me, "Mark, I need some help and I think you're the only man that I know that can help me." I give you a quizzical look as I ask, "Okay, Linda, what do you need that only I can do?" You walk over to the couch and sit in front of me and continue, "Well, ever since we met at the hospital, we've been what I consider really good friends. Would you agree?" I nod, smiling brightly, "Of course we have. You and I seem to be a lot closer than just friendship, but we just don't know what to call it." You giggle at me in a playful way. I can now see your nipples hardening beneath your plain white t-shirt.
You stand up and turn your back to me, facing my kitchen, and ask me for a glass of water. I tell you to help yourself. As you re-enter the living room, you seem to trip, spilling some of the ice water onto your t-shirt. The water now making your t-shirt transparent as it soaks in, making your breasts clearly visible. As you put the glass on the table, you walk towards me with a naughty grin and say, "Oops, do you have a shirt I can change into while this one dries?" I smile at you and reply, "Do you really want to change your shirt, or just tease me?" You giggle again and quickly add, "Was it that obvious?" I look at you and admit, "Well, over the last few days, I've given you 3 massages, several hugs, and our usual light kisses keep getting more intense every day. Why don't we just be honest with each other and see what happens?"
You look at me and say, "Okay, you want honesty, here it is. I know everything there is to know about your medical condition, seen everything you have, and for the last 3 nights, I've dreamed about what would happen if you and I were to do what I really want." Mark asked her, "And what would that be?" You remove your t-shirt, walk over to my wheelchair and straddle it, lowering yourself to my eye level, look me in the eye and tell me, "I want to be your fuck toy. I want you to use my body in any and every way you can. I can take anything you dish out, and will, because you are the best thing to ever come into my life. You always seem to have the answers when I have problems, you always seem to know what I need, when I need it and how much."
I wrap my arms around your waist, look into your eyes and tell you, "I too have thought about being intimate with you, but every time I do, I always wonder if I can do everything that you want a man to do to you, and I'm afraid I might disappoint you." You break out in laughter and tell me, "Mark, dear sweet Mark, just because you don't have a 9-inch dick swinging between your legs doesn't mean that you would disappoint me at all. In fact, it's a relief that you barely have 4 inches there because that means that you can be more creative, imaginative and overall a better lover. When my late husband had erection problems, he thought he was less of a man because he couldn't fuck me in the average way. When we talked about it, I told him that his cock wasn't the most important part of sex with him, it was what he did before he fucked me than at any other time. The kissing, caressing, fondling - that's what gave me multiple orgasms before his pants even came off. Then when I met you at work and we started talking and getting to know each other, I felt a connection with you that I hadn't had since my husband passed away. When you first saw me walk into your room and said, 'Good morning, gorgeous,' that made my day. The other nurses on the floor couldn't understand why I had a grin on my face for the rest of the day. Those 3 words told me that you not only saw me as a nurse, but a woman too." I nodded and replied, "I said that because you ARE more than just a nurse to me. You are a very intelligent, gorgeous woman, a woman that I think is one of the most beautiful, sexiest women I have ever seen."
Then I take you by the hand and pull you into me, our lips meeting instantly, my hands rubbing your smooth back. Our mouths open in unison as our tongues wrap each other. My hands slowly move lower along your body, my thumbs slide into the waistband of your shorts and tug them down past your firm ass and your 36-inch hips. As they fall to the floor, you kick them off, straddling my chair again. Our kissing becomes more passionate by the second, my hands roaming all over your back, squeezing your ass firmly as you moan. My mouth slowly travels to your neck, kissing and sucking ever so lightly, feeling you shiver as my mouth goes from side to side on your neck. My hands slowly come to your sides, caressing up and down. One of my hands travels to your bare mound, softly rubbing up and down until my finger reaches your erect clitoris. You squeal as my finger begins massaging your pleasure nub, your hips begin swaying from side to side as my finger glides along your dripping slit. My mouth kissing and licking my way to your collarbone, then the top of your breasts. I lick your cleavage as my finger slides just under your clit, taking a nipple in my mouth I suck softly at first, but soon my tongue rakes over your nipple as my finger continues its descent to your g-spot. As soon as my fingertip hits your g-spot, your cunt quivers, your juices begin covering my finger as your hips begin bucking slowly at first.
My mouth making love to your tits, alternating one then the other, pulling on your nipples with a soft but firm tug. Then, my mouth travels down your ribcage, kissing and licking everywhere possible, my hand rubbing your mound as my finger begins thrusting into your dripping fuckhole.
Your moans turn to words, "Oh yes, that's it right there, yes, there, don't stop."
You sit on the couch as I leave my wheelchair, steadying myself onto my knees between your muscular legs. I kiss your navel, licking it constantly as your fingers run through my hair, begging me to go further. Slowly I kiss along the inside of your left thigh, licking and nipping lightly, then going back towards your dripping snatch. I look up at you and you mouth the words, "Please eat me." I give a throaty laugh as I start kissing your other thigh, not touching your slit. I proceed to kiss and lick along your thigh as your hand tugs at my hair, tempting me to take care of your cunt. Finally, I relent and push my tongue deep into your twat as you cry, "OOOHHHHHH YESSSSSSS." Your juices splash the back of my throat as your body convulses in wave after wave of orgasm. All too soon, we lay together in each other's arms, sealing our bond of love.
Let me know what you think! Email [email protected]. Please put the story title in the subject line when writing. | null | null | Authors/bedtimestories/The Best Time .txt |
121,150 | null | The Visitor | Your boyfriend's good buddy flew in from out of town and was staying overnight. You had gotten some playing time in earlier when they were out running around together, but now they were back, and both had been drinking. You sat on the couch with your man as they both talked of old times, laughing. You were bored, but had a smile on your face and made a funny comment here and there as the two men reminisced about the good old days. You got up to go get more beer and brought back 3 more bottles. As you handed one to Richard, he smiled up at you, and you smiled back, then you sat next to your boyfriend, leg pressing against his, and he gratefully took a bottle from you. You could sense he was approaching the 'too drunk to fuck' stage, and you were getting a little pissed at that. You hadn't had his cock inside you for a whole week, and you were a little edgy about that. Hell, you looked forward to screaming in the bedroom as you came and letting Richard hear you - that was a turn-on. And maybe you could get your boyfriend off hard enough that Richard would hear him moan too, through the guest bedroom wall. You liked the idea of that challenge.
As you all drank your final beer of the night, you stroked your boyfriend's bare thigh. You liked it when he wore shorts. You were looking at Richard and smiling while doing this, and he was looking at you; you could see the wheels turning in his mind, fogged with alcohol. As you drank from your bottle, lips puckered around the neck of the glass, you kept your eyes on him, and to your satisfaction, you noticed him developing an erection as you stroked your man's thigh. You felt the wetness start inside you and had a good buzz on, enjoying the heck out of Richard's reaction, when your man picked up your hand and moved it off his thigh. You were disappointed, but expected nothing less, actually. Regretfully, your torrid fantasy of a three-way, with two men ejaculating their warm loads of semen all over your breasts and stomach as you masturbated yourself to orgasm, slid into the background of your mind.
Your boyfriend got up to use the bathroom. You sat there on the couch, smiling at Richard, who smiled back. You told him it was good to see him again, and, rather inanely, he told you it was good to see you too, as you spread your thighs, and you noticed his eyes staring at the crotch of your shorts, and you really liked this. Your nipples were poking against the fabric of your tank-top; you'd think about Richard tonight when you got yourself off next to your snoring man, because you knew he was going to be out like a light with all the beer in him. You pondered trying to suck him off as he was passed out as you looked at Richard's erection pressing against his shorts. Hmmm, you thought, looks like more than a mouthful over there.
Your boyfriend staggers back from the toilet, and he says he's fucked-up drunk and is hitting the hay. You and Richard stand up, and Richard smiles at you once more as you wrap your arms around your man and wink at Richard, then move off to the bedroom with him. Once the door is closed, you turn to your man. He is sitting on the bed taking his shoes off, and you kneel between his legs, leaning forward playfully, kissing his cock through his shorts. 'Christine, no,' he said drunkenly, 'Richard might hear!' as he laid down after pulling his shirt off. He laid there in his shorts, looking semi-comatose already, and you turn the light out and curl up next to him, cuddling, as you slip your hand inside his shorts, grabbing his cock, hoping for a positive reaction, but he drunkenly grabs your arm, pulling your hand out of his pants, and, as you lay your head against his chest, starts snoring softly.
You are not happy. At least he could have taken a handjob from you! You could have fingered your pussy as you pumped your man's cock and timed it just right so that when you came, he came. You imagine watching his cum spray into the air as you orgasm - now that is mutual, baby! You stay curled up against him, then realize the beer is running through you, and you pad silently out into the bathroom, peeing, thinking you'd have to get yourself off alone now. Fuck it, you think, I'll yell out loud when I cum so Richard can hear!
As you walk back into the living room, you are startled to see Richard still sitting on the couch, finishing his beer as he watched the television. You say hello to him, and he looks up, smiling brightly, and says "Hi, Christine!" in such an excited tone that you almost laugh. What a dear man he is, and you went and sat on the couch next to him, looking at the late news, but your pussy was getting wet just thinking about being this close to another man's willing erection. Yes, his was stirring again, you noticed with a glance, and as you made small talk, talking about how your man was shit-faced, how it was good to see him again, you suddenly without warning found yourself in his arms, his tongue slipping in your mouth as you gave a little moan and felt his erection through his shorts. Your mind was swimming, heart beating fast, you can't believe this is happening, it is as wrong as you can get, but there is no way in hell you are stopping until Richard cums, and you know how you want to make him cum as you break away from him suddenly, standing up, and you look down at him, sitting on the couch, amazement on his face as you pull your tank-top off and undo your bra. You see Richard's eyes locked upon your heavy breasts, your hard nipples standing out as you toss your head to the side, your long hair flowing as you smile, lick the tips of both index fingers, and then rub your hard nipples with them, as pleasure runs through your body like an electric current and Richard says "fuck" watching you play with your nipples. He leans forward to pull your shorts down, but you say "No, Richard, my pussy is my boyfriend's, but tonight you can have my mouth," as you kneel between his legs and lean forward, rubbing your full breasts over his thighs. You like how your nipples tingle as you run them over his hairy legs, and your pussy is leaking now.
As you unfasten Richard's shorts, you are thinking 'I can't believe I'm doing this, we could get caught, it would ruin everything', that thought just makes you hornier, the alcohol adding its buzz to your lustful feelings as you slide Richard's shorts and boxers down at the same time, sliding them quickly off his legs. His cock stands half-erect; it is large, the head is rounder, larger than your man's, and the shaft curves upwards more. You can't help taking notes, because it's been years since you studied an erection not your man's, and it was very exciting indeed. You take it in your hand, and Richard gives a low moan as he runs his hand through your long luxurious hair. He tells you that he always wanted you but was afraid to come on to you. You think 'whatever' as you move your fist slowly up and down on his long shaft, feeling his cock grow, straining, in your hand. You are fascinated as you feel your panties get wet, and you squeeze him tightly right below the head of his cock, and you are rewarded with a dribble of clear fluid escaping the little opening at the tip of his swollen round cockhead.
You can't let that go to waste, so you lean in and lick the fluid off his cockhead. Richard's whole body jerks at the contact of your warm wet tongue. You smile up at him innocently, his large cock in your tight fist, as you rub his cockhead against your chin in small circles. His chest is heaving, his eyes are locked upon yours, you giggle at his obvious enjoyment, then rub the head of his hard prick against your lips, feeling the new fluid leak out of him in his excitement. You smear it on your lips just like it was lip gloss. You lick your lips and taste him. You think he is saltier than your man, stickier too, as you kiss the head of his cock as you alternately squeeze and release his shaft just under his cockhead. You can tell this is driving him crazy. He asks you to pump his cock, please Christine, but you smile your sweet smile, lower lip pressed against his round red cockhead, and say "No Richard, I'm going to do you like this," and you keep on squeezing his thick shaft hard, then releasing, squeezing again, on and on. Clear fluid dribbles out of him in a constant trickle now, you lick it up. Richard begs you to suck his cock, he can't stand this, and you look up into his eyes and say "Richard, be a good boy, and I'll let you cum on my face," which made him shut up, staring drunkenly at you, his back arched, thighs trembling as you continued squeezing him hard and releasing, all the while lapping your wet tongue against his leaking cockhead as you stare up into his eyes.
Richard starts moaning constantly, his body twisting. You know your squeezing and releasing, along with your tongue licking his cockhead, is driving him insane with lust.You swirl your tongue around the top of his cockhead, earning you a fresh dribble of his fluid as he moans louder and says, "You fucking tease, I'm going to cum all over your face." Richard stands up suddenly, wobbling a bit, as he grabs your head in both of his hands. His body then tenses as he grunts deeply, and his first spurt explodes forcefully against your lips. Half of his sticky, thick cum is in your mouth, while the other half of the forceful spurt is splattered over your lips and chin. Before you can react, his second spurt gushes out, and you involuntarily shut your eyes as this spurt leaves a thick trail across your nose, up the corner of your right eye, and onto your forehead. Richard watches your face as he gives a great inarticulate groan of sweet release, and his third spurt splashes against your left cheek. You moan loudly as you cum, your body releasing, and pure pleasure washes over you as this man gets off watching his cum spray over your face. You angle his jerking, pulsing cock so his fourth spurt coats your right cheek as you look up at his face, seeing his eyes watch you as you cum. Richard says, "Fuck, you're cumming too," as his fifth spurt is less forceful, gushing out against your lips once more. You feel his thick cum drip off your chin, a string of it landing between your breasts as you fasten your lips over his cockhead and swallow his sixth and seventh spurts, sucking him hard as his body shakes and he groans.
He stands there for a minute after his orgasm, looking down at your cum-streaked face as you lick his cock clean. He strokes your hair with a trembling hand, wincing in pleasure as you lick his sensitive cockhead. You smile up at him, his cum sliding down your face slowly, drops dripping onto your breasts, and he collapses back onto the couch, utterly spent. You ruffle his hair as you walk by him and go back into your bedroom, curling up next to your man, thinking that if he asks you anything, you'll say, "Silly boy, you came on my face and don't remember?" | null | null | Authors/For_Her/The Visitor.txt |
121,537 | Quiyoughkasouck | Christine's Oblivion | Yes, it will be soon.
Christine partook of the milk in her chalice, a grand sense of foreboding overtaking her. She looked around the table at her disciples, her friends, and realized their weakness. She had long suspected that, in this city, the immediate realm of the Adversary, she would be captured, perhaps become a martyr. These were not women with strength and determination, but young girls who barely understood what Christine was doing. As such, she knew she would be betrayed.
She could not blame them for their weakness. It seemed that everyone was susceptible to the illusion that engulfed the world, so that her disciples had come this far was remarkable enough. Even when they betrayed her, she would still love them.
Christine rose and announced she would go for a walk. She walked around the table and gave each of them a heartfelt kiss, though she noticed Judith was absent. Petra, Joan, and Jaime elected to go along for the walk, and she accepted.
In the garden, Christine admired the flowers growing by a stream. She turned, then, to look at her companions.
Like her, they were only wearing long loose white robes which spoke of modesty in a world that has lost it. They were also thin like her, being fed only by the milk of some pitying mothers.
"Wait here, and keep watch," she bade them, and then she turned and walked to a flower patch.
She knelt and closed her eyes to meditate, willing herself to persist through the ordeal she would surely soon face. For an hour she tempered her resolve, and finally rose with the determination that she would save the world from an evil king.
She went back to her companions, finding them asleep.
"So," she murmured softly, leaning toward Petra and waking the three. "You girls could not stay awake for one hour?"
Ashamed, the girls stood and apologized. Christine merely smiled at them. Then she saw Judith walking into the garden.
"Excuse me," Christine said, leaving her companions to approach Judith.
"Christine," Judith greeted her. "I have something important to tell you."
Christine observed Judith, surprised. Judith looked much more healthy than she did earlier today. Her thinness was less apparent, her cheeks were reddened, and her eyes shone with verve.
"What is it, Judith?" Christine asked.
Judith thrust her arms around Christine, embracing her tightly, and gave her a strong kiss. Christine accepted the kiss, and became aware of an unfamiliar salty taste on Judith's lips.
"I love you," Judith declared, breaking the kiss. "I wish we could be together."
"Judith, I love you too," Christine replied, softening at the words. "We are together now."
"That's not what I mean!" Judith cried suddenly, tears forming in her eyes. "I mean together, as lovers! You love me like you would love anyone else, but I love you more than anything."
"Judith..." Christine breathed, disturbed. "What are you saying?"
"You won't have me as long as you rebel against the Master," Judith sniffled, "so I have made sure your rebellion will end now."
Then Christine saw the crowd of girls behind Judith. They poured into the garden, garbed in all sorts of colors and fabrics that in every case defied modesty.
Judith, still weeping, released Christine and stepped back as two invading girls grabbed Christine roughly by the arms. From behind her, Christine heard her allies shouting and running up to protect her.
"Don't fight," Christine insisted. "There will be no violence on my behalf."
"But Christine!" Petra cried.
"No," Christine denied her. "No violence. I will go in peace, and you all will let me."
Her disciples were quiet then.
The girls holding Christine pushed her down, then, until she lay facing the sky. They then knelt down to sit on her arms, and Christine felt their bare wetnesses slowly slide up and down her wrists as they held her down. She saw Judith approach, wiping her eyes.
"I still love you, Judith," Christine said softly.
"Not enough," Judith remarked bitterly, kneeling at Christine's feet. "And now... it is only against your will that I can do this."
Judith lifted up Christine's robe for everyone to see and caressed her now bare legs.
"So beautiful," Judith murmured, lowering herself to lick Christine's thigh.
Christine took a deep breath, trying to ignore the sensation of Judith's tongue. Behind, she heard her disciples speaking to each other in hushed, agitated tones. Before, the crowd of girls watched and commented and giggled.
Then Judith worked her way to Christine's crotch, moving her tongue so that it circumnavigated Christine's most sensitive area.
"Must you do this?" Christine asked in a whisper.
"How else would one prove her true love?" Judith demanded, raising her head. "With mere words? With the same meaningless hugs and kisses you give to any passing stranger? No, Christine, you do not know what love really is. And I... I will show you."
Then Judith kissed Christine's clitoris, intensely and passionately, and Christine stifled a gasp.
"This is... wrong..." Christine managed, her legs shaking. "Please, stop..."
Judith covered Christine's pussy with her mouth and sucked, her tongue touching every space it could. Christine struggled now, though the girls grinding against her arms held firm, and held her lips tightly together lest a moan might escape.
She felt Judith's tongue slide into her, as deep as it could, and Christine cried out softly. Judith raised her head again, and Christine found that she was breathing hard.
"Don't you see?" Judith sighed, stroking Christine's belly. "It feels good because it is good."
"No, Judith..." Christine breathed. "The Adversary... he has deceived you..."
Ignoring this, Judith retracted her arms into her robe and pulled it off, dropping it to the ground. Judith then crawled up, into Christine's robe, and gripped one of Christine's breasts with her mouth. One of Judith's hands began to fondle the remaining breast, while the other hand reached down to rub Christine's pussy. As she did this, Christine could feel Judith's own pussy rubbing insistently against her leg.
Christine steeled herself against her body's desire to give in to the feeling and enjoy it, but she was finding it difficult to concentrate now.
Judith stopped after a while and moved up more, pushing her head through the neck of Christine's robe.
Judith held Christine's shoulders and kissed her on the mouth. Christine could taste her own pussy on Judith's lips and tongue, and she felt Judith now rubbing against her pussy with her own.
Christine felt her body starting to respond against her will to Judith's hunger and sweaty body. Judith was moaning into Christine's mouth, and she found herself starting to moan back. Christine's lower body was now rising up on its own to meet Judith.
Then Judith's moans became whimpers, and her grinding became more urgent. Christine couldn't help but respond in kind, and they reacted to each other in growing frequency until Judith suddenly cried into Christine's mouth and shivered violently against her.
Christine felt her own body convulse in some strange combination of pleasure and agony, and she cried into Judith's mouth as she too shivered violently.
All of the fight went out of her after that, and she found herself staring up at the sky blankly as Judith nuzzled against her, content.
Christine felt very tired suddenly, and she gradually drifted to sleep, only slightly aware of the feeling of being carried somewhere else.
When Christine awoke, she became aware of the sound of many girls moaning and the sensation of her arms bound together above her. Christine opened her eyes and gasped, seeing all of her disciples except for Judith, bound in the same way to the wall opposite her. Unlike her, however, they each had someone kneeling underneath their robe, evidently orally stimulating them to make them moan.
They seemed to be in some kind of dungeon, windowless and with only one exit. From that exit, a girl appeared, followed by a naked man with another girl impaled on his giant penis and evidently unconscious.
The first Christine knew to be the Adversary's Wife, her belly swollen with child. She wore black high-heeled boots, black thigh-high socks, a black translucent babydoll trimmed with lace, black elbow gloves, and a black collar with "LOVE" engraved on it.
The second was a young short-haired girl, her belly swollen with penis. She wore violet high-heeled boots, black fishnet thigh-high stockings, a reddish-purple microskirt, and a pink cropped top shirt with "Master's Property" printed in black on it. The girl's ears, nipples, navel, and clitoris were also all pierced with gold ornaments. Her pussy seemed to be bleeding onto the penis, and the Adversary was gripping her waist and moving her up and down on it.
It took Christine a moment to realize that this girl was Judith, utterly transformed into just another victim of the Adversary's lust.
"Oh, you're awake," the Adversary's Wife remarked, smiling. "You're just in time to see your friend, who's had a bit of a makeover."
"Leave her alone," Christine demanded. "I'm the one you want."
"I think my Beloved wants all of you, actually," the Adversary's Wife replied, rubbing the base of the penis. "But I think you'll see that she doesn't want to be left alone, isn't that right, fuckhole?"
Judith's eyes opened slightly, and she smiled weakly at Christine. "H-hi Chri...stine...""You've... got to try this..."
"Oh, she will," the Adversary's Wife promised. "But first, honey, could you please rape the rest of her friends?"
"What?!" Christine shrieked, pulling on her restraints. "No, please!"
"They need it," the Adversary's Wife said, embracing Judith and pulling her off the bloody penis. "It's the purpose of all fucktoys, you know. Clean him off, sweetie."
The last sentence she addressed to Judith, who she set before the penis. Judith opened her mouth and the Adversary's penis rammed into it, stretching her throat bizarrely. After doing this a few times, the Adversary pulled out of Judith, who collapsed, and approached Simone, the closest of the disciples.
The girls hidden under the robes of the disciples all crawled out as the Adversary arrived. They stood and walked out of the room, smiling at the Adversary but letting him be.
Then the Adversary reached up to the collar of Simone's robe and ripped it straight down the middle, revealing her breasts and wet pussy.
"Please don't," Christine pleaded as the Adversary's penis settled against Simone's pussy.
"Fuck her hard, honey," the Adversary's Wife said, walking over to hug his arm. "For me."
Simone's screams immediately filled the air as the Adversary's penis slammed into her now-bleeding pussy. Her screaming became more desperate as the Adversary moved out and in rhythmically, going a little further each time, until Simone's screams became gasps and then silence.
"Oh, honey," the Adversary's Wife cooed, nuzzling his arm. "I love it when you fuck them silly."
Christine shut her tearful eyes and tried to empty her mind. No matter how hard she tried, though, the image of Simone being brutally raped and the sound of her fading screams stayed with Christine.
"Mmm, that's hot," the Adversary's Wife said after an interval.
Christine opened her eyes and gasped. The Adversary's penis bulged in Simone's chest and twitched periodically. Cum worked its way up Simone's throat and filled her gaping mouth, dripping out onto the rest of her body. Slowly the Adversary pulled his penis out, stopping as the cum pumped into Simone's womb and expanded her belly. Then he was done and pulled out completely, leaving Simone limp and leaking cum down her legs and onto the floor.
"That's one down," the Adversary's Wife announced sweetly, as the Adversary moved on to Theodora and tore her robe open like he had with Simone.
"Please," Christine tried again. "I'll do anything you want."
The Adversary thrust his penis, still covered in cum and blood, into Theodora, and then it was her turn to scream and bleed.
"Yes you will," the Adversary's Wife agreed, glancing at Christine and licking her upper lip.
Theodora's rape was much the same as Simone's, her screaming descending into silence and her struggles giving way to unconsciousness.
"Yes, my Love... oh yes," the Adversary's Wife encouraged him, holding his arm with one hand and rubbing herself with the other. "It's so good of you... to give these worthless whores your cum... so good..."
Before long, the Adversary's penis was bulging in Theodora's chest, and Christine shut her eyes again, determined not to see any more of this.
In this way she heard the sounds of the Adversary's Wife, commenting and moaning and cheering, along with the helpless screams of Jamise, Matty, Thema, Berthel, Phillipa, Joan, Jaime, and Andrea as each of them were raped into eventual silence.
But then Christine heard something that made her open her eyes, then stare with her mouth agape.
It was Petra, with her robe torn apart and her bleeding pussy stretched open by the Adversary's penis. She had been screaming in agony a moment ago, but now...
"Yes!" Petra screamed joyously. "Oh, yes, it feels so good! Oh, fuck, yes! Fuck me!"
The Adversary had stopped his thrusting, and Petra was supporting herself with her bound arms to slide up and down his penis.
"Petra..." Christine whispered.
"That's a good fucktoy," the Adversary's Wife was saying, helping Petra with her efforts. "Don't you want to be used like this more?"
"Yes, please!" Petra gasped, the penis bulging in her stomach.
"You're cute," the Adversary's Wife remarked, licking Petra's cheek. "Maybe we'll keep you if my Love decides he wants another cocksheath or something."
"Oh, Master!" Petra cried. "Please keep me! All my life I've needed your wonderful cock in my useless cunt!"
The Adversary shoved his penis further into Petra, bulging in her neck and making her gag.
"That's right, rapeslut," the Adversary's Wife said, rubbing her hand up and down the bulge in Petra's chest and neck. "Your only purpose is to be used by my Beloved. It's all that you and every other fuckhole is good for."
The Adversary began to move in and out of Petra himself, now, while his Wife continued to stroke the bulge he made in Petra's body. Petra now moaned wordlessly, enjoying her body being so thoroughly violated.
Before long the penis twitched in Petra's chest, and cum quickly filled her throat and mouth and covered her face. As the Adversary pulled out to fill her womb, Petra tried to close her mouth and swallow the contents of her mouth, though she was unable to get it all down.
After some time, the Adversary pulled out of Petra entirely, letting the cum in her pussy drip out on her legs.
"Cuntwhore," the Adversary's Wife called, addressing Judith, who crawled over. "Your Master has the blood of your friends on his cock. Clean him up."
Judith opened her mouth as the Adversary's penis pressed against it. She suckled the tip, covered in blood and cum, before it was quickly shoved into her stretching mouth. Judith's eyes rolled back and she made gagging sounds as the penis rammed down her throat repeatedly.
"Why are you doing this?" Christine whimpered.
The Adversary's Wife turned to her, looking amused. "My Love wants to be cleaned. Did you want to clean him instead?"
"Why are you allowing him to rape us?!" Christine cried. "This isn't right!"
"Why not?" the Adversary's Wife asked. "It's your purpose, like I said."
"I don't believe that!" Christine insisted. "Something is wrong with the world! It's been twisted to fit the Adversary's desires, and to hell with whomever else!"
The Adversary's Wife walked over to her, looking thoughtful. "The world has changed," she then said. "For the better."
Christine stared at her face, which had come very close.
Christine was aware of her own beating heart and heavy breath, and she felt the Adversary's Wife's belly pressing against her.
"This is paradise," the Adversary's Wife murmured, her lips brushing against Christine's as she spoke. "There is no death, no famine, no war, no poverty. No one gets sick or old or crippled, and there is always someone who will love you, no matter what. Everyone is beautiful. Everyone is kind. You only get pregnant when you want to." At this she smiled and glanced down at her belly. "And, of course, you don't get periods."
"But the Adversary-" Christine started.
"My Love," the Adversary's Wife interrupted. "He is the one who gave us this paradise. He is entitled to what he wants... to take what he wants. And I support him in that. But what he does, he does out of love. Do you not value love?"
"This isn't love," Christine protested. "They... don't want it."
"What is love?" the Adversary's Wife mused. "Do you claim to know it? Your friend did not seem to think so. And... your other friend, the one my Love was just using. She certainly wanted it a great deal."
Christine didn't know how to respond to that.
"You're just confused," the Adversary's Wife continued, stroking Christine's cheek. "My Love just needs to fuck you a little, then you'll understand. You'll learn to accept his love, and then love him for it. Only then, when you understand that you should be used by him... be loved by him... only then will you be truly happy."
The Adversary had slowed his thrusts, and now Judith's stomach was swelling with cum. Christine saw this and felt her tears streaming down her face.
"Oh you poor thing," the Adversary's Wife said, licking some of the tears off Christine's cheek. "It's sad watching you be empathetic for the wrong reasons. Don't worry though, soon you'll realize your role as a fuckdoll. Just you wait."
The Adversary had pulled out of Judith. Judith's mouth was wide open and a stream of urine came out of the penis and went straight down her throat, quickly filling it and overflowing onto Judith's clothes.
Then Christine suddenly felt herself being lifted up. She looked around and saw two girls she hadn't noticed before lifting up some kind of giant upside-down triangle, the top line evidently being what Christine's bindings were tied to.
The girls carried her out of the dungeon of her cum-filled disciples, and Christine found herself in the foyer of a large house. Girls of all sorts stood, sat, and reclined in the room, many of them watching her. The Adversary and his Wife followed her as the two girls set Christine's triangular rack into a slit in the floor.
"Some of you have seen on video," the Adversary's Wife said to the room, "that the Master has thoroughly used the disciples of Christine here, who wanted to rebel against our ways of love. As an official end to the rebellion, here she is for all of you to see as she accepts her Master."
"No..." Christine whimpered, but the girls in the room had started to cheer and drowned her out.
The Adversary tore open Christine's robe, then, and the Adversary's Wife rubbed his penis while she positioned it against Christine's pussy.
"Please, no..." Christine pleaded, feeling the heat of the penis touching her.
"Relax," the Adversary's Wife told her, gently caressing her belly while the Adversary spread her legs. "It is only through pain that you can truly feel pleasure."
Then the Adversary pierced Christine with his weapon. Christine opened her mouth to scream, but no sound came out and she cried silently. Only the head of the penis was inside her, but already the pain was unbearable.She could feel blood coming out of her permanently-wounded body.
"Easy, honey," the Adversary's Wife said. The Adversary moved no further as she walked around the triangle and embraced Christine from behind, her swollen belly pressing on her back. "She needs to feel every bit of you inside her."
The Adversary's Wife reached over to massage Christine's clitoris, which now had blood on it, as the Adversary pushed in and out of her painfully slowly, each time going slightly further.
Christine could only take sharp breaths, unable to use her voice. She tried to shut her eyes, but they stayed open for some reason, and she found herself looking up at nothing through her tears.
"Doesn't it feel good?" the Adversary's Wife shakily breathed into Christine's ear, moving her free hand to massage Christine's breast. "My Beloved just wants you to feel good..."
The penis was now making a bulge in Christine's stomach. She felt like she was losing herself, as if the thing was destroying her soul as it violated her body.
But she could not struggle. Even if she weren't bound, she couldn't make herself move with even the greatest amount of effort. All she could do was think, with rapidly decreasing effectiveness, and feel the Adversary raping her into oblivion.
"Oh, yes honey," the Adversary's Wife whispered. She had abandoned Christine's clitoris and was now rubbing the bulge in Christine's stomach urgently. "You're really enjoying breaking this fucktoy, aren't you?"
The penis went further, up into Christine's chest. The inconceivable pain was taking over her body now, as if it were some kind of disease consuming her entirely. The Adversary's Wife now had both of Christine's breasts in her hands and was repeatedly shoving them against the penis bulging between them.
"Keep going," the Adversary's Wife urged the Adversary as his penis went into Christine's neck. "Oh, honey, I love you so much."
She leaned forward and started to suck on Christine's neck, now bulging with the penis far too big for it.
Christine felt it going further up her throat, finally emerging inside her mouth. She had now lost her capacity to think completely, and now only felt the thing which defiled her and the pain that came with it.
She tasted her own blood as the penis slid across her tongue and lips and came out of her gaping mouth. Behind her, the Adversary's Wife shuddered violently.
The Adversary slowly moved Christine up and down on his penis for a while, until his Wife raised her head.
"Okay honey," she breathed, letting go of Christine. "Now... show her what true love is. Destroy her."
The Adversary held Christine by the waist, then, and pulled out of her briefly.
Then the penis slammed into her, and Christine was gone.
For a moment, Christine was lost completely, but then she returned to her body, consumed with pain, as the penis slid out. Then it went in again, and again Christine's consciousness was ripped from her body.
Over and over, Christine went through quick stages of emptiness and pain as the Adversary ravaged her body. Christine could not tell how long it lasted, having lost the ability to conceive of time, but it felt like an eternity.
Eventually, however, the Adversary slowed his thrusting and Christine's consciousness more or less stabilized in her body. The penis was in her throat, spewing burning cum that filled her mouth and flowed all over her face. Then the Adversary pulled out to her womb. Here he waited as his penis pumped countless loads that filled Christine more than she could have thought possible.
When the Adversary was done, Christine felt someone undo the bindings and she fell unceremoniously to a carpet wet with blood and cum. The cum that filled her began to slowly leak out of her orifices.
Then soft lips suddenly covered her own, and Christine felt someone licking and sucking the cum out of her mouth.
After a while, the mouth pulled away and licked Christine's face, cleaning the cum off of it, though Christine still couldn't see since her pupils wouldn't move back into place. Then Christine felt herself being lifted up by strong hands.
Something wet and warm and familiar pressed against her lips. Christine opened her mouth and it immediately crammed itself into her, pushing down her throat and into her belly. She could taste the same cum and blood that was in her mouth a moment ago, though now from a different position as the giant thing pushed in and out of her stomach.
Soon enough, something twitched and there was a fire in Christine's belly as she felt herself being filled up once again. The penis pulled out to her throat, then her mouth, pouring almost endless cum into her.
Still not done, the Adversary pulled out entirely and dropped Christine on the floor again, and she felt her entire body being covered in cum.
Before long she was lying in a puddle of thick goo, and she had the impression that even if she could move, she would have a hard time getting up.
"Remember," the Adversary's Wife murmured somewhere near her. "He is your Master."
Then Christine knew that she was being left there. After some moments she felt the mouths and tongues and pussies of other girls, evidently using her cum-covered and cum-filled body for nourishment or plain pleasure.
Christine lay motionless for some time as her broken mind slowly reconfigured itself, and eventually she moved her lips to say a single word.
"Master..." | null | null | Authors/Quiyoughkasouck/Heaven/09 - Christine's Oblivion.txt |
121,734 | Connie Lingus | I have a surprise for you | You log in to check your email, and there it is, an email from me.
"I know I'm taking a big risk surprising you like this, but I'm in town," it reads, "in fact, at a hotel just a few kilometers away from you. Please come soon. I have a surprise for you."
I know your partner is still away, and so is my husband, but of course I couldn't know if you would really be free tonight. I heave a huge sigh of relief when you reply, "Connie! Omigod. Really? You're HERE. Oh yes, yes YES. I'll be right there."
You know right where the place is, and in half an hour you're walking down the hall looking for room 274. You find it way down the hall and tucked away at the very back of the Inn. You knock, but the door is slightly open and swings open as you knock. You hear me calling you.
"Susie, come on in and lock the door." It's completely dark inside, but I'm holding a tiny keychain light so you can see your way to the bedroom. When you step into the bedroom, you can't see anything but the light pointed at you.
"Stop there, honey," I say, and the light goes out. Now it's completely dark. You stand there for only a few seconds, then you feel my hands on your waist, feeling up your body to your face. Then my whole body is pressed to you. My naked body, and I'm kissing you. Your hands roam all over my back and down to my firm ass, pulling my pussy against your mound. I kiss you deeply, a hot, hungry soul kiss, my tongue swirling around with yours inside your mouth, while my hands claw at your clothes, almost ripping your blouse off, then unbuttoning your jeans. I nibble on your earlobe as I push your jeans and panties down.
"I want you to fuck me, Susie. I want to fuck you til we can't stand up." Then I'm licking your breasts while my fingers explore your belly, your thighs, oh, your wet pussy. But I step back a step, in the dark, holding your hands. I whisper "but I told you I had a surprise.... Come over here."
You still can't see a thing as I pull you gently over to the bed and sit you down there. "Ready? Hold out your hands."
You hold out your hands, and they are taken by small hands; impossibly small and soft hands warm on yours. These hands draw yours to a completely flat chest, the chest of a child. There are no breasts, but the nipples are little hard pebbles as you press your hands to them. It could be a boy or girl. You can't tell. The tiny hands go up to your face and pull your mouth to the little hard nipples. Then you feel my hands on your breasts from behind, pulling you back, pulling you down on the bed, against my body. You're lying back against my breasts while I squeeze yours, rolling your nipples between my thumb and fingers. The child crawls up your body kissing your belly, licking your nipples and my fingers as I continue to roll and squeeze them. That soft mouth is kissing you now, tiny tongue in your mouth.
Then there are small knees beside your head. I turn on the lamp by the bed, and you're looking up right into the hairless preteen pussy of a young girl no more than 8 or 9. But that bald smooth pussy is glistening with juices, inches from your face. You're looking into the splayed open wet little cunt of a preteen girl.
Looking up at her face, you see a dazzlingly beautiful redheaded girl with green eyes and a big smile on her face.
"Connie says I can fuck your mouth," she says. You love it that she's talking to you this way. "She says you will suck my baby cunt til I can't stand it any more."
Then without waiting for any reply from you, she presses her wet smooth hole to your mouth. She gasps as your tongue licks up into her drooling slit.
"Oh yes, yes Susie. Suck my baby cunt!" She thrusts herself at you, rotating her skinny hips and grinding herself on your mouth.
"That's it, baby," I say, "Fuck her mouth hard. She's all yours, your sex toy to use as you want, all night. She loves baby cunt."
Her tiny twat is leaking an unbelievable amount of clear lubricant juices, and she smears them all over your mouth, covering your lips and chin and cheeks with her baby cunt slime. She grinds and mashes her cunt on your mouth, using you for her pleasure.
"Yes, Mommy," she says, "this is just what you wanted, isn't it?"
She moans and grunts as she fucks your face with her soaking wet pussy. It turns you on even more that she's calling you Mommy, evoking your deepest forbidden fantasies. You look up and I'm kissing the little girl as she moans into my mouth, grinding herself on you. I lick her tiny tits and she gasps in delight, mashing down even harder on your mouth, making urgent noises and wailing,
"Lick my clit, Mommy." She mashes and grinds her clit on your lips as you lick madly at her pussy and drink down the juices that pour from her open hole. "Eat my cunt, Mommy. Aunt Connie says you love to drink little girl cummies."
With that, she cries out and a flood of milky cream surges from her sweet wet cunny, gushing out on your tongue as she shudders and quivers, her thrusts erratic as she gasps and moans in orgasm. She collapses onto my chest, and I hold her close as aftershocks rock her tiny body, her immature cunt spasming and ejecting more of her delicious girlcum into your hungry sucking mouth.
Then she descends on your body, suckling like a baby on your hard nipples as I kiss your mouth, tasting her nectar, licking it from your cheeks and chin. She slides down to your aching needy cunt and presses her mouth to you.
"Mmmmmmm," she says, "Mommy cunt. I love Mommy cunt." Looking up at me, she says, "Your turn on the oral sex toy, Aunt Connie."
She proceeds to lick and suck at your hole, digging out your juices with her tiny tongue and sucking it from your hole. I position myself above you, and as she continues to lick and suck your pussy, mine descends to your mouth. Ooohh, and now I'm fucking your mouth. I'm so turned on, I'm soaking wet too, and I take you just as aggressively as she did. This is all about me now, and I bear down, smashing my pussy to your lips, feeling your tongue snake up into my hole. I rock back so my asshole is over your mouth. Spreading my cheeks, I press it to your lips.
"Lick my ass, Susie, while our little sex toy eats your nasty pedo cunt." I squeal as your tongue circles my asshole then presses inside. "Oh yes, yes. Just like that, you wonderful nasty bitch. Eat my ass." Then my pussy is back on your mouth, and I'm grinding it hard on your lips, using you, thrilling you. "Yes, suck my cunt, Susie. Make me cum."
Our little lover is slurping and sucking at your cunt while mine rides your face, faster and faster, losing rhythm, losing control. She hears my increasing grunts,
"Uh, uhn, yes, uhn, oh fuck. yes, oh Susie, yes, fuck me, Fuck Meeeeeeeee." and I'm cumming, as she fervently licks and sucks, thrashing her face side to side and up and down til you explode in her mouth. I'm gasping and gushing into your mouth as you shudder and quake, your hands on her little head, pulling her into your spasming cunt.
I bend down, and together, our little sexpot and I lick the juices from your pussy and thighs and I devour the glistening glaze on her tiny face.
We crumble into a pile of arms and legs and satisfied swollen pussies, resting up for what promises to be a long, wet night. | null | null | Authors/Connie_Lingus/Daughter's Best Friend/Other Stories/I have a surprise for you.txt |
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